AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.
Rupert stood at the stern of the vessel as the last bell rang, and she
slowly swung out from her moorings and began to steam down the harbor.
His arms were tightly folded across his chest, which seemed laden with a
hundred-pound weight; his face was pale and stern, his eyes moody and
fixed upon the receding domes and spires of the great city that he had
just left.
There was a conflict of emotions in his soul, and rebellion was the
fiercest of them all—rebellion against his bitter disappointment and the
unrequited love that filled his heart.
He never moved from his post for an hour; he had no interest in anything
that was transpiring about him; he knew, or thought he knew, no one on
board, and he had no desire for society just then, even if he had; he
cared little or nothing about the location of his stateroom, or to learn
who were to be his companions during the next eight days.
The day was perfect. It had been oppressively warm in the city, but
there was a delightful breeze upon the ocean and the air was delicious.
There was not a cloud to be seen, and the sun shone around that floating
world in matchless splendor, tipping every wave and ripple made by the
motion of the vessel with gleams of silver, while beyond the waters were
darkly and beautifully blue.
But the young man was not conscious of any of this beauty, and he might
have stood there still another hour, absorbed in his own sorrowful
reflections, but for a little circumstance that startled and shocked him
into new life.
A voice near him was saying:
“Mamma, do you think you would like to sit here? this life-boat makes a
nice shelter. I will arrange your chair and wraps, and I am sure you
will be comfortable.”
“It looks inviting,” was the pleasant rejoinder; “I will at least try it
until I begin to experience those qualms which all voyagers so much
dread.”
A merry little laugh rang out at this—a laugh that made Rupert
Hamilton’s blood tingle and glow, and his heart beat with quickened
throbs; then the first voice responded:
“We are not going to have any qualms, mamma. I am determined to be a
good sailor, and I will not hear a word about your being sick. Why, what
should I do for company without you, and not a friend to speak to on
this great ship?”
Rupert turned now to look at the speaker, his face luminous with
surprise and delight; the moody look all gone from his brow, his fine
lips wreathed with smiles.
At this movement the young girl glanced up and their eyes met.
“Miss Alexander!” cried the young man, going forward with outstretched
hand.
“Mr. Hamilton!” Virgie stammered, her lovely face suffused with blushes.
Their hands met in an eager clasp, and Mrs. Alexander, viewing this
unexpected reunion of the youth and maiden from her position a little in
the background, and noting how much their looks and actions expressed,
knew that she had run directly into the danger she had been trying to
escape all summer.
But it was too late to mend matters now; fate had ordered it so to be,
and she could only submit to the inevitable with as good a grace as
possible.
“Mamma,” Virgie said, as soon as she could collect herself, “this is Mr.
Hamilton, whom we met during the trip to California; Mr. Hamilton, let
me introduce you to my mother, Mrs. Alexander.”
The lady and gentleman exchanged greetings, and then Rupert insisted
upon making himself useful to Mrs. Alexander, who was still something of
an invalid, although much better than when we last saw her in May.
He unfolded her chair, saw her comfortably seated, and then arranged her
wraps and rugs so deftly, and was so kindly attentive to her needs, so
gentlemanly and entertaining in conversation, that she was at once
disarmed of half her fears and prejudices.
“He is really a very charming young man,” she admitted to herself, as
she lay back among her robes and watched his expressive face while he
talked with Virgie. “I do not wonder that she became interested in him,
and, perhaps, after all, if she is to live in England, it might be as
well for her to make an English alliance; I hope his family is a good
one.”
That a great deal of mischief, if it could be regarded as such, had been
done during those few weeks of travel in the West was plainly apparent.
Rupert showed his happiness over this unexpected meeting in every look
and gesture. One could hardly believe him to be the same person, who,
half an hour previous, had stood like some stern statue looking back in
despair upon the city he was leaving behind; while as for Virgie, her
mother scarcely knew her for the drooping, pale-faced damsel that she
had been all summer, although she had not been guilty of a single
murmur.
Mrs. Alexander’s health had improved somewhat, but she was far from
strong even yet, and her physician had urgently advised an ocean voyage.
She had demurred at first, but when he said, “Your daughter, too, needs
the change; I do not like her looks at all,” her mother-love prevailed,
and she nerved herself for her long contemplated voyage to England,
feeling that perhaps the proper time had come for her to act in the
matter of Virgie’s inheritance, and thus it chanced—if chance it
was—that they were booked for the same steamer in which Rupert had
sailed.
But, alas! for Virgie’s boast that she was “determined to be a good
sailor,” for she had not been on deck many hours before she was
prostrated by that much dreaded enemy of all voyagers, sea-sickness, and
thus all the pleasant _tête-à-têtes_ and promenades which Rupert had
begun to plan immediately upon discovering that she was on board the
steamer, came to naught.
The poor girl was hardly able to lift her head from her pillow during
the whole voyage, and when they arrived at Liverpool she was so reduced
that she had to be carried off the vessel.
She began to rally at once, however, after landing, and continued to
improve during the journey to London.
Mrs. Alexander had borne it all wonderfully well, suffering but very
little from “qualms,” which she had so much dreaded, and Rupert having
constituted himself her constant attendant, they had become the best of
friends during the eight days that they had spent together.
When they arrived in London, Rupert assisted them in finding pleasant
lodgings in an excellent locality, and then began to think of his own
friends at Heathdale.
“I shall be in London again soon, and may I beg the privilege of coming
to see you occasionally?” he asked, as he was taking leave of the two
ladies.
“Yes, indeed, we shall be very glad to see you, Mr. Hamilton,” Mrs.
Alexander rejoined, cordially, while Virgie blushed with pleasure at the
request, and a shy smile dimpled the corners of her pretty mouth. “But,”
she added, “you have not yet told us whither you are going—in what
portion of England is your home.”
“I have no home really, as yet, Mrs. Alexander, but I have friends in
Hampshire County, and I am going to them for a while,” Rupert replied.
As was his custom, he seldom talked about himself, and this was the
first intimation that Mrs. Alexander had received of his having friends
in Hampshire, where Sir William lived.
She grew a trifle pale as he mentioned the fact, and longed to ask him
if he knew the baronet; but she checked herself, and they separated
without a suspicion on her part of his being in any way connected with
the man whom she had come to England to seek.
Mr. Knight had given her letters of introduction to some friends of his
residing in Grosvenor square, and, upon seeking them, she found them to
be most delightful people.
Sir Humphrey Huntington and his family occupied a high social position
in London, and thus had it in their power to make it very pleasant for
any one in whom they were interested.
They tried to persuade Mrs. Alexander to come to them as their guest,
instead of remaining in lodgings; but she preferred, for various
reasons, to be independent, although she compromised the matter somewhat
by frequently allowing Virgie to visit Sir Humphrey’s two daughters, who
were about her own age.
And now there began a charmed life for Virgie Alexander, as, for the
present, we must continue to call her, since her mother did not wish her
to be introduced by the name of Heath until she could be assured that
she would succeed in having her acknowledged as the heiress of
Heathdale.
As soon as she was sufficiently rested, Mrs. Alexander intended to
consult with some good lawyer and give her interests into his care; but,
meanwhile, she was willing that her darling should enjoy to the utmost
the pleasures at hand.
Grace and Helen Huntington were bright and attractive girls, but neither
of them possessed a tithe of the beauty which the gods has conferred
upon their young guest. They were generous and kind enough, too, not to
envy her for it, but rather made a pet of her, and were proud to
entertain the fair American, who soon became an acknowledged belle.
The Huntingtons were in the habit of giving fortnightly receptions to
some of the _bon ton_, of London, and it was at one of these gatherings
that Virgie made her _début_ in society.
She had never been much in company, having left school only the previous
year, but now she entered into the enjoyment of everything with all the
enthusiasm of her girlish nature.
She was very lovely on the evening of her first appearance at a
reception at Lady Huntington’s.
She came into the great drawing-room leaning on the arm of Helen
Huntington, a sparkling brunette, clad in garnet silk.
Virgie’s mother had taken great pains with her toilet, and it was
absolutely perfect. It was of finest albatross cloth, combined with
white satin, fitting her slender form like a glove, and draped in the
most artistic manner, while the scarlet flowers, gleaming here and there
among the graceful folds, made a very pleasing effect.
Her nut-brown hair was loosely coiled and fastened with a small silver
comb, while a few light rings lay in careless array upon her pure
forehead. Her dark eyes were gleaming with excitement and anticipation;
her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her red lips wreathed with happy
smiles.
“Who is that beautiful girl in white, with scarlet verbenas?” asked a
distinguished-looking woman, who was conversing with Lady Huntington, as
Virgie entered the room.
“She is a young American for whom a friend of my husband bespoke our
hospitality and attention.”
“Ah!” replied the other, looking interested, and raising her glass for a
better view of the stranger. “I might have known. We have few beauties
of that delicate type in this country. What is her name?”
But the woman started even as she asked the question, while her glance
searched Virgie’s face with an eager, wondering look. Something in its
delicate outlines and striking beauty seemed to arouse long dormant
memories.
“Miss Alexander,” said Lady Huntington; “she and her mother arrived from
New York only ten days ago. Would you like an introduction? She is very
charming, and wonderfully well informed for a girl of her age.”
“Um!—yes, presently; but——Sadie, do tell me who she looks like!” and
Mrs. Farnum, for it was she, turned to a queenly woman near by, to draw
her attention to the fair stranger.
Sadie Farnum, or Lady Royalston, as she was now known, had long since
resigned all hope of becoming the mistress of Heathdale, and, having
married a wealthy lord twice her age, had given herself up to fashion
and society.
“Of whom are you speaking, mamma?”
“Of that girl who is standing beside Helen Huntington. Of whom does she
remind you?”
“I am sure I cannot tell,” Lady Royalston answered, searching the bright
face to which her attention had been called. “It certainly has a
familiar look, and yet one that I cannot place. She is very pretty.”
Mrs. Farnum did not reply, but continued to follow every movement of
that graceful form, every expression of the sweet countenance, while she
searched the chambers of her memory for its counterpart and the
circumstances under which she had seen it.
Presently the two girls approached Lady Huntington, when she passed her
arm around Virgie’s slight waist, saying:
“My dear, I wish to introduce you to an old friend who has been
inquiring about you. Mrs. Farnum, allow me to present our young guest,
Miss Virgie Alexander.”