“GOD IS GOOD.”
“To think,” continued Sir William, after a moment of thought, “how
systematically she set about her dreadful work, how remorselessly she
persisted in it until she had achieved her end. And Mrs. Farnum! how she
could see and know you, my beloved; how she could look upon that
innocent darling, in whom was centered the hopes of both of us, and lend
her aid, is a marvel and—a shame upon the name of woman! She shall never
cross the threshold of Heathdale again.”
“I cannot understand how she could have lent herself to such a base
intrigue!” said Virgie, thoughtfully.
Sir William smiled bitterly.
“What is it, dear?” she asked, remarking it.
“I suppose I can give a reason, although it may sound somewhat
egotistical,” he returned. “Sadie Farnum—now Lady Royalston—once aspired
to become Lady Heath, while it was the dearest wish of both her mother
and my sister, who have been life-long friends, that I should marry
her.”
Virgie flushed. She could now understand why she had been the object of
their curious glances when they first came to the —— Hotel, New York.
Sir William leaned forward and touched his lips to her crimson cheek and
murmured:
“But I never saw but one woman whom I could be willing to have reign as
mistress in my home. Virgie, I shall take you to Heathdale immediately.”
Her whole face was dyed scarlet in an instant.
“You forget,” she faltered, humbly, “I have no right to go there. I have
forfeited all title to your name and home.”
“I did forget,” he answered, growing pale and sighing heavily. “I cannot
realize since I have found you but that you belong to me now as in those
early days; and you do; before Heaven, you are as truly my wife to-day
as you ever were. But,” and his arm closed tenderly about her, “the only
obstacle is a legal point, and that is easily removed. You wish it, do
you not, my darling? You will come to me at once?”
“I should die if I lost you again,” Virgie cried, clinging to him with
another burst of tears. “It has been a weary struggle to live without
you all these years. But for Virgie I would gladly have laid down the
burden long ago.”
“Then may I go to London immediately for a special license, since we
must conform to the letter of the law? I can never be separated from you
again,” said Sir William, as he fondly wiped her falling tears.
“But how can I leave my uncle, Lord Norton?” Virgie asked, suddenly
remembering that new claim upon her and her promise not to leave him
while he lived.
“Lord Norton your uncle? Ah, that accounts for your being here. I could
not understand it,” returned the baronet, looking astonished and
remembering for the first time where she was.
Virgie explained how the relationship had recently been discovered, and
informed him of his lordship’s wishes that she should remain with him
for the present.
“We must respect the wishes of a dying man,” Sir William gravely
replied, “and I, too, had forgotten my own obligations to him.”
He told her all the circumstances of his cousin’s accident and the
summons that had brought him thither; of his proposal to try and
complete the manuscript of Lord Norton’s book, as, of course, Mr.
William Heath would not be able to resume his work for a long time, and
his lordship was liable to pass away without having his heart’s desire
accomplished if he attempted to wait for his recovery.
So it was finally agreed between them that they would wait at least
until the completion of the manuscript before taking any steps for their
reunion. They would see much of each other every day, while Sir William
thought it would not be liable to create quite so much excitement in
society if it was announced beforehand that he was soon to marry the
niece of Lord Norton.
He declared, however, that his sister should know nothing beyond that
fact until their return to Heathdale; but Virgie was so happy in being
reunited to the love of her youth that she was almost willing to
overlook and forgive Lady Linton’s instrumentality in her previous
suffering, and even to invite her and her family to be present when
their new ties should be solemnized.
But Sir William was inexorable.
“No,” he said, sternly; “it shall come upon her like a thunderbolt out
of a clear sky. She has always wanted me to marry, and doubtless she
will be jubilant when I announce my intentions; then she will imagine
her triumph over you complete, and she shall not be undeceived until she
sees you enter our future home as its mistress, for, of course, she will
never dream that you and Lord Norton’s niece are one and the same
person; hers will be a double punishment when we all get home.”
“Double! how so?” Virgie asked.
“It has long been her desire to marry Lillian to Rupert, my ward; but it
seems, my darling, that he has chosen our daughter to be his wife. How
strange it all seems,” he concluded, thoughtfully.
“How did you learn so much?” Virgie inquired, with some surprise.
“The young gentleman himself came and told me a couple of days ago; he
said he considered it his duty to inform me; but, let me tell you, my
sister’s disappointment will be no light one when she learns the fact,”
Sir William answered, all unsuspicious that her ladyship had learned the
secret at the same time that he was informed of it.
“Does Lillian care for him?” Virgie asked.
“I am afraid she does,” was the sober response.
“Poor child,” sighed Virgie, regretfully, “and I am really sorry for
Lady Linton’s disappointment.”
“Can you so readily forgive my sister, Virgie?”
“I believe I can, Will; I truly desire the spirit of forgiveness even
for the great wrong that she has been guilty of; and, since nothing can
ever again mar our trust in each other, I do not wish to cherish
bitterness toward anyone. I am truly grieved for Lillian; she is not
accountable for her mother’s faults, and I have suffered too much, in
believing another had usurped my place in your heart, not to feel a deep
sympathy for her in losing Rupert.”
Sir William sighed.
He regretted Lillian’s unhappiness too, for he was very fond of her. She
was a bright, beautiful girl, and for years had been the light of his
home; and he believed, away from her mother’s influence, she would make
a noble woman. Still it was a matter for rejoicing with him that the
young man whom he loved as a son would soon become a son indeed.
Virgie’s meeting with her father was quite touching. Her mother had
never told her who he was. She had shrunk more and more from the ordeal
as the time drew near when it must be revealed.
She had intended telling her the morning following Lady Dunforth’s
reception when she had so unexpectedly learned that Sir William was
Rupert’s guardian, and she would have done so but for Mr. Thurston’s
visit, his startling revelation of her relationship to Lord Norton, and
their sudden departure from London.
She was glad now that she had delayed the communication, for when she
now made it, she could soften the otherwise shocking intelligence by
telling her that all the past had been but a cruel mistake, which at
last had been explained and rectified—that her father was a true and
noble man.
Virgie came in from her walk just as her father and mother were speaking
of Lillian.
“There comes Virgie,” said her mother, starting up. “I must go to
prepare her for her meeting with you.”
“How much does she know?” Sir William asked, paling a trifle.
“Dear Will, she does not yet even know her own name, nor who her father
is. I _could_ not tell her, although I had promised to do so soon,”
Virgie explained, with quivering lips.
The baronet bent and touched them softly.
“I am glad, my beloved, that you have not told her; the shock will not
be so severe now. Go, dear, but send her to me as quickly as possible,
for my heart yearns for her. I know now why her presence affected me so
strangely the other evening.”
He released her, and she glided from the room to meet her daughter just
outside the door; another moment and she would have entered.
“Mamma, what is it?” the young girl exclaimed, as she read in her
expressive face something of the great change that had come to her
during the last hour.
“Come with me, dear; I have something to tell you,” her mother said, and
she slipped her arm about her waist and drew her into a small room
opposite.
In as few words as possible she told her all that had occurred, and the
name of her father—the name which she had so long withheld from her.
“Sir William Heath, Rupert’s guardian, _my father_!” said the bewildered
girl, looking utterly dazed by the startling information.
“Yes, darling. It is a romance in real life, is it not?—and one which
will end more happily than such romances usually do,” was the smiling
reply, although there were tears upon the grateful woman’s cheeks.
“That accounts for a great deal,” said Virgie, musingly.
“Such as what, for instance?”
“Your strange actions the other evening when Rupert told you who his
guardian was.”
“Yes; I utterly lost my self-possession then. It was an unlooked-for
shock, and I feared that matters were going to be terribly mixed when
you came to marry Rupert. But, darling, we must not keep your father
waiting; he is longing for you. Remember, he has never yet looked upon
the face of his own child, to recognize her as such.”
“But, mamma,” Virgie began, a startling thought coming to her, “you
are—you are not——”
Then she faltered and stopped, her face covered with confusion.
“‘I am, and I am not,’ is rather an ambiguous statement, is it not,
dear?” was the arch retort, although her mother was also flushed as she
caught her meaning. “I understand your trouble, dear,” she added, more
gravely, “and everything is to be set right in a little while. This
reunion will soon be properly solemnized, and then we shall all go home
together. Now go, and I will follow you in a few minutes.”
She led the beautiful girl to the door, kissed her tenderly, and sent
her to Sir William. Then she sped swiftly up to her own room, where,
locking herself in, she fell upon her knees and sobbed out her grateful
thanks for the great joy that had been sent to her that day.
Virgie, her heart all aglow with love and happiness, went straight to
the library.
Softly opening the door, she put her flushed, beautiful face within,
saying, with charming eagerness:
“Mamma says that—that my father is here.”
Sir William turned at the sound of that sweet voice, his whole soul in
his face, and held out his arms to her.
“Virgie! my child!” he cried, in a tone that thrilled her, and her heart
instantly owned its kindred, without a doubt of fear.
She sprang to his breast, laughing and sobbing all at once, and his
kisses were rained upon her upturned face.
“Oh, my baby, whom I never saw! my darling for whom my heart has yearned
so many years! God is good to give both my treasures to me, so fair and
loving,” he murmured, fondly, while his own tears mingled with hers, and
his chest heaved with the emotion he could not control.
“Papa!” Virgie breathed, with a tender inflection that touched him
deeply; “to think that I have never been able to say it before, while I
have hardly dared to speak of you at all, because of the suffering it
caused mamma.”
“How has she accounted for my absence, love?”
“She has always told me that you went over the sea and were lost. Only
since coming to London have I learned that you were living.”
“It was better so,” the baronet murmured, with a sigh. “It was better to
have you think me dead, than guilty of the unfaithfulness which she was
led to believe of me. But, my darling,” he added, holding her off and
gazing tenderly into her fair, young face, “you are very like what your
mother was when I first saw her, and it is no wonder I was so attracted
toward you the other night at Lady Dunforth’s.”
“Were you?” Virgie asked, looking up eagerly; “it is very strange, but
it almost seemed to me as if I had known you in some previous state of
existence! The sound of your voice moved me deeply and I could hardly
restrain my tears when you gave me your hand at parting.”
“It was the instinct of natural affection. Oh! it is such delight to
have found both my loved ones; and yet,” he added, with a twinkle of his
eyes, “I am afraid I am not destined to have the exclusive right to but
one of them for very long.”
Virgie blushed crimson and hid her face on her father’s shoulder at this
allusion to her engagement.
He raised it and kissed her softly on her lips.
“I shall not be inconsolable,” he said, smiling, “for if I have to
resign something of my claim upon you, I shall thereby secure a son whom
I have always loved as such. Rupert is a noble fellow, and he shall have
my heartiest blessing, also, when I give him my daughter.”
Virgie looked up archly at these words.
“I think that you and Rupert must have a mutual admiration for each
other,” she said, “for he is very fond of extolling his guardian; and,
papa, I believe—I think you are very nice, too.”
Sir William laughed. It was very sweet to find her so fond; he had
feared that, never having known what it was to have a father, she would
be shy and reserved at first.
“There will be mutual admiration between you and me if you say such
pleasant things,” he returned, with another caress. “How much you are
like your mother!—the resemblance grows upon me constantly,” he added,
gazing closely into her lovely face, “all save your eyes; those, I
think, are very like mine, my pet.”
“Yes, and mamma has always told me that they are the dearest thing about
me for that reason,” Virgie answered.
Sir William turned to gather his other Virgie into his embrace—she
having entered at that moment—a happy smile on his lips at this fresh
evidence of her faithfulness to him.