A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT.
It seemed very dull to Virgie for a while after the departure of Rupert,
who had been a very lively and agreeable traveler; indeed, the whole
company missed him; but Mr. Knight and his sister exerted themselves to
fill the young man’s place as far as possible, and, with the memory of
that last interview, and the hope of meeting him again in New York in
the spring, Virgie resolved not to pine, and gave herself up to the
hearty enjoyment of her sight-seeing and other pleasures of the journey.
The trip proved to be a most enjoyable one in every way, and when Virgie
returned to her mother, in March, looking rosy and happy, and full of
life and enthusiasm over what she had recently seen, Mrs. Alexander felt
well repaid for the loneliness she had experienced during this, their
first separation.
Mr. Knight told her confidentially of Rupert Hamilton and his evident
admiration for her charming daughter, and warned her that she might look
for the young man’s return about the first or middle of May.
Mrs. Alexander was at first inclined to laugh over the romantic episode,
until her friend mentioned that Rupert was an Englishman, whereupon she
grew very grave and sad.
“I hope they will never meet again,” she said, sternly. “I do not want
my child to marry an Englishman; it is enough that her mother’s heart
was broken by one of that nationality.”
“Surely, my friend, you do not imagine that all Englishmen are knaves
simply because one has proved himself such?” said Mr. Knight.
“I suppose I have no right to judge them so, yet I have a prejudice
against them that I cannot overcome,” responded Mrs. Alexander, with a
sigh. “I hope my darling, if she ever marries, will become the wife of a
stanch American.”
“The young man is a noble specimen of his countrymen, I can assure you,”
Mr. Knight answered, anxious to do Rupert justice. “I confess I should
be rather proud of him for a son-in-law.”
Mrs. Alexander sighed heavily, and did not reply; but she secretly
resolved that if it was in her power to prevent it, Virgie and her
English admirer should never meet again.
April passed and May came, and Virgie began to grow expectant. She was
blooming into brighter beauty with every day, and seemed to become more
womanly, so that her mother felt, with something of sadness, that she no
longer had her little girl, but a lovely and winsome maiden, who would
doubtless soon be won from her sheltering care to grace the home of
another.
She had been a beautiful child, but she was far lovelier now, possessing
her mother’s refined and delicate features and graceful figure, while
her eyes were so like her father’s that her mother often suffered
keenest pain as she looked into them, and seemed to be gazing again
through them into the heart of the man whom she had loved so fondly in
her youth.
Of late she had pined anew for the affection which had guarded her so
tenderly in those early years.
Perhaps it was because her health had not been as firm as usual during
the last few months. She felt weary and depressed. She longed for some
one to lean upon—some one strong and true to shield her from the cares
and worry of life.
Every day, during the first two weeks of May, Virgie watched for the
coming of Rupert Hamilton.
She knew that he expected to return to New York about this time, and she
felt sure that he would seek her at once, while she believed that his
coming would mean a great deal to her. There was an eager, expectant
look on her young face, a deeper flush in her cheeks, a bright and
hopeful light in her eyes.
Mrs. Alexander read the signs of the time well, and realized that the
hour for her to act had come.
The warm weather was very enervating to her. She drooped visibly, and
calling her physician she asked his advice regarding some change of
residence.
He advised her to leave the city immediately; to go to some quiet
country place where she could have pure air, fresh, rich milk, and a
nourishing diet.
Consequently she decided to seek a lovely place on the Hudson, where she
had spent a summer several years previous, and where she could be as
quiet as she chose, and rest the livelong day if she wished.
Miss Knight decided to accompany her, for her brother feared that the
woman whom he still regarded with far more than mere friendly feelings,
was more frail than she acknowledged herself to be, and he thought she
ought to have some one more experienced than Virgie with her in the
event of any more serious illness.
Mr. Knight himself was contemplating a trip through the New England
States, but promised to join them and spend the remainder of the summer
with them upon his return.
Poor Virgie was made very unhappy upon learning of these plans, for it
destroyed her hope of meeting Rupert Hamilton, who, she believed, was
even now upon his way back to New York.
She did not, however, pose a single objection to her mother’s plans, for
the doctor had said her health demanded an immediate change, and she was
not selfish enough to wish to delay a single hour, even though her going
might blight the fondest hopes of her life.
But she could not deceive the keen eyes of love, and Mrs. Alexander was
quick to note her paling cheek, the thoughtful, wistful look upon her
hitherto bright face, and she realized with a bitter pang that already
her darling’s heart had responded to a stronger affection than hers.
But it made her all the more eager to hasten her departure, and on the
fifteenth of May they left New York for their summer home upon the
Hudson.
Thus it will be seen that Rupert, who arrived in New York only a few
days later, missed them, and was cut off entirely from all communication
with Virgie.
He sought Mr. Knight upon the very day of his arrival, but was greatly
disappointed to learn that he had left the city. He then repaired to the
address which he had given him, hoping to find Virgie, but the house was
closed; and though he inquired at one or two places, no one could tell
whither Mrs. Alexander and her daughter had gone.
Life seemed to grow suddenly dark to him then, for he had been looking
forward to this hour with a great deal of hope. It had been no light
struggle for him to break away from the party at San Jose as he had
done, and only a sense of honor and his own weakness had enabled him to
do so.
He knew that he loved Virgie Alexander with the one strong passion of
his life, and that if he had continued the journey with her he must have
told her so. Mr. Knight’s conversation with him, however, had convinced
him that this would be wrong, and so the only thing that remained for
him was to get out of the way of temptation. But during all his journey
he had looked forward to the day when, in her mother’s presence, he
could honorably proclaim his affection, which only strengthened with
every passing day, and win her for his wife.
He remained in New York for two or three weeks, hoping to learn
something of either Mr. Knight or the Alexanders; but he failed to do
so, and then turned his face in another direction, resolving to prolong
his stay in America until fall, with the hope of finding Virgie, when he
should again return to New York before sailing for England.
He spent the summer in visiting the New England States, the great lakes,
and some portions of Canada. He saw much to interest him, but was
conscious all the time of one intense longing, one unsatisfied desire,
and it was with a feeling of relief that, at the beginning of October,
he found himself once more in New York.
Sir William was very impatient for his return, and had written charging
him to take passage as early as possible for home, for there was to be a
great celebration at Heathdale on the twentieth of the month to
commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of an orphans’
home.
Consequently Rupert’s first duty was to engage his stateroom for his
return voyage, the steamer advertising to sail on the eighth.
Then he again instituted inquiries for his friends, but none of them had
yet returned, neither was he able to discover their summer resort, and
thus the eighth of October came, and, with a sadder heart than he ever
possessed, Rupert went on board the Cephalonia to return to his native
land.
How many times Sir William Heath had turned his face homeward with just
the same despair at his heart; the same moody brow, and pained, anxious
face; the same intense longing for the woman whom he loved better than
life itself!
But the end was not yet.