RUPERT’S REQUEST.
“Virgie Alexander!” repeated Mrs. Farnum to herself, as she acknowledged
the presentation, and it almost seemed as if some one had struck a blow
upon her heart as she recalled that long-forgotten name and looked into
that delicate, clear-cut face, while a vision from out of the past
suddenly rose to confront her.
She saw the tall, slight figure of a beautiful woman very like this
young girl, standing straight and proud before her, as, with a face of
agony and a voice full of despair, she asserted her own purity and her
child’s legitimacy, and hurled back scorn for scorn upon the arrogant
women who repudiated her claim and tried to crush her with a vile
conspiracy.
Again she seemed to hear those ringing, prophetic words, “My child is
also the lawful child of Sir William Heath; she is the heiress of
Heathdale, and she shall yet occupy the position that rightfully belongs
to her. Let your ‘peer of the realm and his honored family’ take
warning; the time will come when a righteous judgment will overtake
them.”
She shivered slightly as she recalled all this and Virgie wondered what
should make the fine-looking woman grow so suddenly pale, and why she
should regard her with such a fixed and startled gaze.
But she gave the circumstance only a passing thought, and then turned to
speak to Lady Royalston, to whom Lady Huntington also presented her,
only to find herself again the object of a curious and astonished stare.
Sadie Farnum turned to her mother as the maiden passed on, and the eyes
of the two women, as they met, expressed a great deal.
“Her name is Virgie, and she looks like that woman,” whispered Mrs.
Farnum, in an agitated voice.
“She certainly does; but Lady Huntington introduced her as Miss
Alexander.”
“Don’t you understand? That was the name of her father—that man who
defaulted from the —— bank, in San Francisco.”
“True! I had forgotten. But—it cannot be possible that this girl was
that baby?”
“Why not? She is just about the age that child would be. You know, it is
eighteen years since we were in America.”
“So it is. How time does fly!” Lady Royalston remarked, with a sigh of
regret for the lost hopes of her youth.
“And, you know, that girl threatened to come to England some time to
claim her position.”
Mrs. Farnum had confided all the plot against Virgie to her daughter
after their return to England, and upon learning that a divorce between
Sir William Heath and his wife had been secured, she had gathered fresh
hope that Sadie would yet become Lady Heath.
“I know you said she did; but so many years have elapsed without
anything happening, I supposed she had given up that idea, particularly
as she obtained a divorce.”
“She was a high-spirited thing,” replied Mrs. Farnum, with a troubled
look, “and I believe she procured a legal separation simply to show him
that she would not hold him bound if he wished to be free; but I imagine
that she has never relinquished the determination to prove her child the
heiress of Heathdale. I am afraid Lady Linton’s plans will come to grief
after all, and if they do, we may become involved in the unpleasant
business.”
Lady Royalston looked disturbed for a moment, then she replied:
“Pshaw! I would not worry over a fancied resemblance.”
“It is not fancied,” returned her mother, “it is very striking. You have
seen it as well as I.”
“Where is the girl’s mother?”
“I do not know. Lady Huntington simply said that they arrived from New
York ten days ago, bringing a letter to Sir Humphrey from a friend who
requested his hospitality for them.”
“If that is the case, they must have been moving in good society,”
remarked Lady Royalston, reflectively.
“Yes; and they must have means. Did you notice the girl’s toilet? It was
simply exquisite.”
“Yes; the finest of everything, and in the best of taste. I cannot
understand it, for you told me that Sir William brought all his wife’s
fortune back to England with him.”
“She told me so herself! but she must have found another somewhere, or
they could not come here in this style.”
“Perhaps she has married again,” suggested Lady Royalston.
“No, indeed. Don’t you understand? She still retains her maiden name,
with simply the ‘Mrs.’ added. I must find out more about them. I will
pump Lady Huntington again before we leave,” Mrs. Farnum concluded,
rather inelegantly.
She was as good as her word, but all that she could learn was that Mrs.
Alexander had come abroad for her health—that she and her daughter were
traveling alone. Lady Huntington believed she was a widow, but judged
she must have lost her husband many years ago, since she never mentioned
him, and wore no weeds. She said she was not able to go much into
society, being still something of an invalid, although much better than
before her voyage.
This was not very satisfactory to Mrs. Farnum, and she felt very uneasy.
“I must see the woman for myself,” she told her daughter. “I should know
her at once, and I shall not rest until I do. I sincerely wish we had
never meddled with that wretched business.”
“I wish so, too,” sighed Lady Royalston, but it was more for her
mother’s sake than her own, for, as we know, her sympathies had been
with the poor young wife when they were together in New York.
But Virgie, all unconscious of the anxiety which her presence had
created, was enjoying herself exceedingly.
She attracted a great deal of attention, and was soon surrounded by a
group of admirers who vied with each other in doing homage to the lovely
young American, while the Misses Huntington appeared to enjoy her
conquests as if they were themselves the recipients of similar honors.
But, in the midst of her triumphs, Virgie chanced to glance toward the
entrance to the drawing-room and saw standing there a figure that sent
all the blood tingling to her finger-tips; and, as she met the eyes that
were fixed so admiringly upon her, her own sent back a responsive glance
which made Rupert Hamilton forget that there was anyone else in the room
and start forward to greet her, regardless of the charmed circle about
her which he must pass.
“Miss Alexander!” he said, in a low, earnest tone, “I did not anticipate
this pleasure when I came hither to-night.”
“And you are a surprise to me,” Virgie answered, blushing slightly. “I
did not know that you were in town. Have you been well since we parted?”
“Very; and I do not need to ask if you fully recovered from the effects
of your voyage,” he returned, with a glance that made her pulses leap.
“I am, indeed, very well,” she said, “and mamma is also very much
improved, although she does not feel quite equal to society yet. Did you
find your friends well?”
“Yes, thank you,” Rupert answered, but his face fell at the question,
for it brought Lillian so forcibly to his mind. She had betrayed so much
joy upon his return that he had been painfully embarrassed and
distressed upon her account.
“Have you been long in London?” Virgie asked, wondering what caused the
cloud upon his brow.
“Can you ask that?” he returned, with a look that made her own eyes
droop. “I arrived this evening with my guardian, and, finding cards for
Lady Huntington’s reception, dropped in to pay my regards to the young
ladies; but I could not be long in London without availing myself of the
privilege that I craved when we parted. But,” glancing around and
realizing that their meeting was attracting more attention than was
agreeable, “will you let me take you out for an ice? It is very warm
here.”
Virgie gladly availed herself of this invitation, for his sudden coming
had agitated her, and she did not feel quite at her ease, while she,
too, saw that her meeting with Rupert had excited considerable surprise
in the group around her.
The young man led her to a small reception-room, found her a comfortable
chair, and then remarked: “Now, if you will excuse me for a moment, I
will get an ice for you.”
“Please do not,” Virgie interrupted, laying her hand lightly on his arm
to detain him; “I do not care for it. I was only glad of an excuse to
get away from the crowd for a few minutes’ quiet chat with you——”
She stopped suddenly and colored with confusion at her confession; but
Rupert, with a radiant glow on his face, drew a chair and sat down
beside her.
“Thank you,” he said; “and now tell me how have you enjoyed London
during the last ten days.”
“I am afraid my enjoyment of London has been rather doubtful,” Virgie
returned, laughing, “since I have seen scarcely anything of it for the
fog and rain; but I have met a good many people whom I consider simply
delightful.”
“And, judging from the court you were holding when I came in to-night,
those very people would return the compliment most heartily,” said
Rupert, smiling.
“Did your guardian accompany you this evening?” Virgie asked, by way of
changing the subject.
“No; he was rather weary, and begged me to make his excuses to Lady
Huntington.”
“You have never told me who your guardian is, Mr. Hamilton.”
“Haven’t I? Then I have been very negligent, for he is the best friend I
have in the world. He is Sir William Heath, and I hope to have an
opportunity to introduce you to him soon.”
“Do you intend to remain in London?” Virgie asked.
“For the present. Sir William Heath has a house in town, and we shall
all be here for several weeks. By ‘all’ I mean Sir William’s sister,
Lady Linton, her daughter Lillian, who is a young lady a little older
than yourself, and—your humble servant,” explained Rupert.
“Lady Linton!” Virgie repeated, thoughtfully; “where have I heard that
name before? It is very familiar, and yet I cannot recall the person to
whom it belongs.”
“Very likely you have heard it spoken in society here, as Lady Linton is
in the habit of going out a good deal when in town,” returned the young
man.
“Perhaps so,” Virgie assented, and yet almost positive she had heard it
before ever coming to London.
They chatted a little longer, and then the young girl said she must
return to the company, and Rupert, giving her his arm, conducted her
back to the drawing-room.
But once there, she was again surrounded by a merry company, and he had
no further opportunity to converse with her.
The next morning, however, he called at Mrs. Alexander’s lodgings, and
was very cordially received by that lady, whom he found looking far
better than he had ever seen her.
She was rapidly regaining flesh and strength, and much of her old-time
beauty as well. He had not realized until now how very lovely she was.
Virgie was not in when he arrived—she was out driving with the Misses
Huntington, her mother told him—and, knowing that he could not long
refrain from speaking of his love for the beautiful girl, he resolved
that he would improve this opportunity and crave Mrs. Alexander’s
permission to address her daughter with the hope of winning her for his
wife.
But how to broach the subject so near his heart was an embarrassing
question, and after the first few moments he became thoughtful, and even
pale, causing Mrs. Alexander to wonder if anything had gone wrong with
him since his return.
“I am afraid your native air does not agree with you, Mr. Hamilton,”
said his hostess, breaking an awkward pause; “you are not looking as
well as when I saw you last.”
The truant color rushed into the young man’s face in a torrent at this
remark, and he made a bold venture, resolved to put his fate to the test
at once.
“It is not my ‘native air,’ Mrs. Alexander,” he answered, smiling
slightly; “but, finding you alone this morning, I have been impelled to
confess something to you, and yet I find myself lacking the courage to
break the ice.”
“Surely, I did not suppose that I was one to inspire fear in anyone,”
remarked his friend, archly.
“You are not; but when one’s dearest hopes are at stake, it is sometimes
hard to speak of them,” Rupert answered, gravely; then added, frankly:
“Mrs. Alexander, you must have suspected ere this how fondly I love your
daughter. I have loved her ever since our meeting on that California
trip last winter, and I have only been waiting for your sanction to my
suit to open my heart to her. I hoped to see you last spring on my
return to New York, but you had left the city and I could not learn your
address. I then resolved to seek you again at the end of the summer, but
you were still absent when I came back the last of September. You can,
perhaps, imagine something of my disappointment—I may even say
despair——when I found that I must return to England with no hope of
confessing my love to Virgie. I do not need to tell you that I
experienced a sudden ecstasy when I discovered that you were both on the
same vessel with me and bound for the same port, and I could not have
remained silent as long as I have, had it not been for the illness which
kept my dear one a prisoner in her berth during our voyage. I know that
I am, comparatively, a stranger to you, but you are so situated now that
you can easily ascertain whether what I have to offer Virgie—a true
heart, an untarnished name, and all that I have of this world’s goods—is
worthy of her acceptance. Mrs. Alexander, will you give me leave to try
to win her?”