Virgie's Inheritance Part 9

"My beloved," he said, "life looks to me now like one long vista of happiness--may it prove so to both of us."

They sat there beneath the shadow of the great pine for more than an hour, wearing bright plans for the future, while the twilight gathered around them. But as yet Sir William had not told his bethrothed who he was, nor of the t.i.tle awaiting her when she should become his wife. Somehow, he felt strangely reluctant to do so.

Once he had spoken of his home, and Virgie looked up with sudden interest, and asked:

"Where is your home, Mr. Heath?"

An amused smile played about his lips at her question

"My friends--that is those who love me---call me 'Will,' there," he said, significantly; "and surely, darling you need not treat me with so much formality. Do not call me Mr. Heath any more, Virgie."

"Please tell me where our home is to be--Will," she said, looking up at him with a shy smile, and blus.h.i.+ng as the newly spoken name left her lips.

He bent and touched them fondly with his own.

"In England, love," he returned.

"England!"

"Yes. Shall you regret leaving your own country?"

"No; I think I shall be glad," Virgie answered, with a little sigh of content and relief.

Sir William looked gratified.

"Shall I describe our home to you?" he asked, thinking that perhaps now would be as good a time as any to tell more about himself and what her future position would be.

"Yes, do, please."

"Well, then, imagine a large, old mansion, with many turrets and gables, its time-worn stones grown with ivy and moss, and set in the midst of extensive grounds, with grand, beautiful trees scattered all about. There is a great hall in the center of the house, with s.p.a.cious rooms on either hand. At the end of this hall is the library, with two large bay-windows overlooking a winding river, which is the pride and glory of the place, and where we sail, and bathe, and fish during the summer months. Over the library there is a lovely suite of rooms, commanding a wide expanse of meadow and upland--a scene that is like a picture all the time--which will henceforth be devoted to the use of the future lady--of Heathdale."

"Heathdale! What a pretty name!" Virgie cried, but still unsuspicious of the t.i.tle which would become hers when she should go with him as his wife to England although he had almost given utterance to it, then hesitated, and subst.i.tuted those last two words.

"Yes, it is a pretty name, and, Virgie, the place is the pride of my heart. At some distance from the mansion there are the stables and kennels, where the horses and dogs abide."

"Why, Mr.----Why, Will, what an extensive establishment! You must have----"

Virgie began in a tone of surprise, then stopped in confusion.

"Well, I must have what?" he asked.

"A great deal of money to support such a place," she replied, flus.h.i.+ng.

"And is there anything very alarming about that?" he questioned, with a quiet smile.

"No; but--I thought----"

"You thought that I could not have very much of this world's goods since I had come here to work a mine," Sir William said, completing her sentence.

"But, darling, all that was only a ruse; I have been working more for my wife than for gold."

"Will!"

"Darling, it is true; that was my only reason for becoming the purchaser of your father's interest here. I saw you; I loved you; I must have some good excuse for tarrying near you to try to win you, and now that I have attained my object, the mine will have to be disposed of, as I have no further use for it."

Virgie regarded him with astonishment. She had never suspected anything like this.

"How strange," she said, with a beautiful flush. "I have thought it almost unaccountable that a man like you should come here to remain. I have imagined that you were an author or a student, and might be investigating the formation of the mountains or studying character in order to write a book, but I never dreamed of anything like this."

Sir William laughed heartily.

"You were making me out to be quite a lofty character truly," he said; "and now you find your hero only a very human being after all--one who, for the sake of a beautiful woman, has been almost willing to barter his birthright. Have I fallen very low in your estimation, Virgie, because I am not to become a distinguished public benefactor on account of my research and investigation? Has my confession shocked you very much?"

"Your confession has made me a very, very happy woman." Virgie whispered, slipping her hand confidingly into his, her heart thrilling with a tender pride and love that this grand man should have sacrificed so much to win her.

"And I am exceedingly proud of this happy woman," returned Sir William, fondly. "I shall take the loveliest bride in the world back with me when we go home to Heathdale."

"Where you will be Lady Heath my Virgie. Ah, I am very thankful that my child will occupy so proud a position in life," said the voice of Mr.

Abbot, just behind them.

He had come out to seek them, and had approached just as Sir William uttered those last words.

"Lady Heath!" exclaimed Virgie, starting up and turning a very astonished face first upon one and then the other. "What do you mean? I do not understand."

"Haven't you told her?" Mr. Abbot asked of the young man.

Sir William shook his head, with a smile.

"Told me what, papa?"

"That our friend here is Sir William Heath, of Heathdale, and an English baronet."

Virgie stood in wondering silence for a moment, her face flushed and drooping, while a hundred thoughts flashed through her mind.

Her lover a t.i.tled peer of England! This n.o.ble man, who might have chosen his wife from the n.o.bility of his own country, had concealed his ident.i.ty, had buried himself in the wilds of Nevada, and lived like a common miner simply to win her, an humble mountain maiden. He who belonged to an honored race, and possessed both t.i.tle and wealth, had overlooked the fact that a heavy cloud enshrouded her own and her father's name, and was willing to lift her to the proud position of his wife and the mistress of his beautiful home. These and many other thoughts held her speechless, and made her tremble with something of fear that in the future he might regret it all, and wish that he had never seen her.

"I am afraid I am not fitted--" she at length faltered.

"In point of education, Virgie, you are fitted for the proudest position that could be offered you," her father returned, with some spirit. "All that you need is a trifle more worldly polish, which you will readily gain as Sir William takes you into society, and I am proud to give you to him.

G.o.d bless you both, my children."

His voice broke.

He would have been glad to go with her to the scenes of her new life, to watch her develop in a higher atmosphere and see her happiness in her proud position. But he knew it could not be; and overcome, for the moment, with the thought of the separation which must soon come, he turned abruptly away and went feebly back to the cottage.

Chapter VIII.