Virgie's Inheritance Part 34

Her chief aim, in collecting the proofs of the legality of her marriage, had been to secure to little Virgie the right to the name she bore, and an indisputable t.i.tle to her inheritance by and by when she should be of a suitable age to claim and enjoy it.

She meant to give her every advantage as she grew older, and do everything possible to fit her for a high position in life; and when, at length, she should reach her majority, she would claim her rights and take care that she secured them in spite of all opposition.

This was all the revenge that Virgie ever intended to take for the wrong that she believed herself to have suffered at her husband's hands. She would scorn to accept anything for herself, but the lawful position of her daughter must and should be recognized.

Her residence of a year in San Francisco had given her the right to apply to the court to have her marriage bonds annulled, and she put her case into the hands of a competent lawyer, recommended by Mr. Knight, to whom she had confided something of her history, and solicited his advice regarding the matter.

He had advised her not to take any legal proceedings until she had tried to confer with Sir William again.

"There is some mistake, I feel sure," he said, "some misunderstanding which might be explained if proper measures were adopted."

"A mistake!" repeated Virgie, scornfully, her eyes blazing with indignation. "I imagine that the only mistake about the whole matter is that I allowed myself to become the dupe of an unprincipled man."

"It can at least do no harm to write him what your intentions are,"

suggested Mr. Knight, mildly.

"I wrote him letter after letter while I was in New York. Mrs. Farnum, of whom I have told you, knew the whole family, and wrote of me to Lady Linton, but they appeared to be in total ignorance of even my existence, while Mrs. Farnum a.s.serted that Sir William had been engaged for years to Miss Stanhope, and I have already told you of his subsequent marriage with her."

"Still I cannot comprehend how he should dare to commit such a wrong,"

persisted Mr. Knight. "He must have known that his marriage with you was legal, according to the laws of the State in which it occurred, and the mere fact of his leaving the country could not annul it. If he had a.s.sumed a name while he was here, it would not seem so inexplicable, but all the papers which you hold go to show that he married you under his own name and t.i.tle; while your description of the character of the man makes it seem utterly impossible that he should be guilty of such conduct."

"True. When I think of that, I am heart-broken," said Virgie, breaking down for a moment. "He seemed so true and n.o.ble in every respect, and he was particular to have his t.i.tle appear in the certificate, although he did not adopt it while traveling because he found he was less conspicuous as plain Mr. Heath."

"It almost seems to me as if some plot had been laid to separate you,"

said Mr. Knight, thoughtfully.

"Impossible! How could such a thing be?" queried Virgie, skeptically. "Who would plot against us?"

"Your letters on both sides may have been intercepted by some enemy with that end in view."

"He has no enemy that I am aware of; neither have I. I did not know a single individual when I went to New York, so there was no one there who would be likely to meddle with our correspondence. More than this, if he did not hear from me, and was true to me, or had possessed an atom of affection for his child, it is but natural to suppose that he would have taken prompt measures to ascertain what the trouble was. No; the more I dwell upon it, the more I am convinced that what he has done was a scheme to secure my property, and then leave me to my fate. I can think of no other object that he could have had."

Alas! Virgie realized long after how she had wronged a n.o.ble man with these dreadful suspicions, and even while she was giving utterance to them, her heart was heavy with a sense of injustice done the man whom, even then, she loved most fondly.

Mr. Knight shook his head in a doubtful manner at her last words, and yet he looked perplexed.

"You think I am too hard," Virgie continued, bitterly "but does not even the provision which he made for me before leaving New York look as if he did not intend to return to me?"

"You refer to the five thousand dollars which he deposited for you; it was a very generous amount, truly."

Of course I could not begin to use such a sum in the few weeks that he pretended he should be away; while the additional five hundred dollars which he sent me through his sister goes to prove that he had no intention of ever coming back to me, yet did not wish me to suffer for lack of means."

"I do not like the aspect of that transaction at all," responded Mr.

Knight, emphatically. "It looks to me as if his sister had had more to do with the matter than rightly belonged to her. Who knows but what she may have been opposed to her brother's marriage and has been at the bottom of all the trouble?" he concluded, reasoning with a shrewdness which he did not realize.

But Virgie could not be convinced.

"I do not believe that," she said, with a sigh; "it looks to me as if he was ashamed--conscience-smitten--and did not have the moral courage to communicate with me himself."

Yet, even as she said it, she knew that such a course was utterly at variance with his character, as she had known it.

"Well, Mrs. Alexander--or Mrs. Heath, I suppose I ought to call you--I will not say more to dissuade you from your purpose; but let me advise you, as a sincere friend, to go to England and ascertain for yourself just how matters are, before you proceed any further."

Virgie started to her feet, with crimson cheeks and flas.h.i.+ng eyes.

"Go to England!--to Heathdale! to find another woman queening it there in my place!--to be brow-beaten and insulted by that proud family!--to be disowned by the man who has already wronged me beyond all forgiveness!

Never, sir!"

"You could at least demand your own--the money that your father left you."

"And do you suppose I should get it? I have no proof that my father ever left me a dollar. Sir William has every paper in his own possession. I have not a sc.r.a.p even that would enable me to wrest so much as a pound from him as my right."

Mr. Knight looked grave. Certainly matters were not very promising for the injured wife.

"Well, it is the most incomprehensible affair that I ever heard of," he said. "I still think, though, that a personal interview would be the wiser course before proceeding further. However, a proper notice will have to be served upon the man, and if there has been any misunderstanding, or he has any desire to contest your appeal for a divorce, he will probably make it apparent when the right time comes. And now, regarding the best counsel for you, I think my friend, Templeton would work well for you, and secure a bill with as little notoriety as any one."

Virgie s.h.i.+vered at this business-like talk of "a bill." It was almost like severing soul from body to break the sacred tie that bound her to the man she so fondly loved, and nothing save the belief that another was occupying the place that rightly belonged to her could have induced her to take such a step.

She applied to Mr. Templeton, as Mr. Knight advised He, too, counseled further intercourse with the baronet, for, to his keen mind, also, the whole affair appeared more like a conspiracy on the part of enemies than a willful wrong perpetrated by the husband.

But Virgie utterly refused to hold any communication with Sir William.

"He will have to be notified regarding the proceedings about to be inst.i.tuted against him," she said, "and if he is guiltless of wrong he will surely hasten to make it apparent."

In spite of her obstinate refusal to make further overtures, something of hope had been revived in her heart by the united opinions of Mr. Knight and her lawyer that some enemy had plotted to separate her from her husband. She remembered what Mrs. Farnum had told her about the pride of his family, and it might be there was some foundation for the belief of the two gentlemen. She could understand how that might possibly be the case as far as intercepting their letters was concerned, but those other facts of the long engagement and the marriage with Miss Stanhope were things which she could not explain by any reasoning.

Still she kept hoping for some word during the time that intervened between the notification and the day set for the hearing of the case. Day after day she waited and watched for some tidings from her husband starting at every unusual sound, growing almost faint at the opening and shutting of a door, and even imagining she saw a familiar form as she sat at her window and eagerly scanned every pa.s.ser-by.

She grew thin and pale with this dreadful suspense; she seemed to be consuming with fever, and was so restless and nervous that her friend, Mr.

Knight, feared that her mind might suffer from such tension.

She hoped until the last moment, although she tried to conceal it, but when the dreaded day arrived, when her case was presented and there was no one to contest it; when the judge rendered his decision, declaring that her marriage was null and void, that henceforth in the eyes of the law and the world she was free from the man to whom she had solemnly promised to cling until death should part them, her courage and strength forsook her, and she was carried lifeless from the court-room, while for three weeks afterward she lay weak and ill, and almost indifferent to life.

The only grain of comfort in this time of woe was derived from the fact that the child had been given to her, and she had no fear of ever having it taken from her, even if Sir William should ever be moved to a desire to have her.

For a time she seemed wholly unlike herself; but the kind-hearted publisher knew that the best antidote for all kinds of trouble is work, and he kept her crowded with orders, until she felt obliged to rally her failing energies and to take up the burdens of life once more.

Thus the winter pa.s.sed; but, when summer came again, little Virgie began to droop in the noisome atmosphere of the city, and the physician said she must be taken where she could have purer air and country living; so Virgie went to a quiet little place a few miles out of the city, where she remained the entire season, not returning to San Francisco until late in October, and thus a cruel fate again seemed to mock her, for during her absence Sir William Heath had come to seek her again, and not finding her, he, too, had grown heart-sick with despair and hope deferred.

Chapter XXV.

Sir William Becomes Guardian.