"You Have Overstepped All Bounds."
Sir William Heath could hardly control his impatience to fly to his dear
ones across the water.
His fond heart yearned mightily to behold his child and to clasp once more
the beautiful wife who had now become dearer than ever to him.
But his mother's condition did not improve; she still lay hovering between
life and death, and he knew that he must not leave her until there was
some change either for the better or worse.
Her disease was partial paralysis, which, however, had not affected her
brain, and her son's return and presence appeared to be of the greatest
comfort to her.
Still she was liable, at any hour, to have another shock, which would
doubtless prove fatal, and Sir Herbert Randal—an eminent London
physician—commanded perfect quiet and freedom from all excitement, since
the least anxiety or disturbance of any kind would bring the dread
messenger which they all feared so much.
Thus it seemed as if the young baronet was hopelessly bound to Heathdale
for the present.
Not a word had passed between him and his mother regarding his marriage.
Knowing how displeased she had been at the time of it, and fearing to
excite her if he recalled the event to her mind, he had thought it best to
say nothing, but leave her to broach the subject whenever she should feel
inclined, although he wondered that she did not make some inquiry
regarding his young wife whom the family had expected he would bring with
him to Heathdale.
The meeting with his sister had been somewhat cold and formal, for he
could not forget how harshly she had expressed herself regarding his
choice, while she could not and would not forgive him for disappointing
all her ambitious hopes for him.
Like his mother, she ignored the subject of his marriage not deigning to
make the slightest inquiry regarding his wife, although she had been
greatly astonished at the non-appearance of Virgie, and was burning with
curiosity to know why he had returned alone.
This negligence and obstinacy on her part made Sir William very indignant,
and after the first excitement consequent upon his arrival had subsided,
he determined to assert himself, and have it distinctly understood that
his wife was henceforth to be recognized as a member of and a power in his
household.
Therefore, the morning following his return he had drawn Lady Linton into
the library, and after conducting her, with something of formal
politeness, to a seat, remarked:
"Miriam, you have not yet done me the honor to inquire after Lady Heath."
Lady Linton bowed coldly, and lifted her fine eyebrows questioningly.
Sir William flushed angrily.
"It is evident that you are still very angry with me, and intend to annoy
me upon this point," he continued, sternly, "and we may as well understand
each other at the outset. I shall demand and expect that my wife when I
bring her home, will be received with all the honor and courtesy which has
ever been accorded to the mistress of Heathdale in the past."
Again Lady Linton bowed; but she did not deign to open her lips in
response, although a spot of vivid red settled in either cheek.
"She is worthy of it in every respect," her brother resumed a gleam of
fire in his eye, "and will grace the position which I have given her as
well as the most noted London belle could do. I have pictures of her
here—perhaps you will do me the favor to look at them."
He laid two or three fine photographs of Virgie, taken in different
attitudes, before her, as he concluded, and then leaned back in his chair
watching her attentively to see what effect that beautiful face would have
upon her.
Her ladyship adjusted her eyeglasses with English precision, and taking up
one of the pictures regarded it with all the indifference which she could
muster. She was not, however, quite prepared for what she saw; and the
quick, curious, half-admiring gleam which shot into her eye told that she
had not failed to acknowledge the exceeding loveliness of that fair face,
and the natural grace and dignity displayed in the young wife's attitude.
She took up each picture separately, and her brother could see her
indifference gradually melting away, a keen and critical look taking its
place.
"Who was she?" she at length condescended to ask, though somewhat curtly.
"The daughter of a California gentleman," Sir William answered, quietly.
"A California <i>gentleman!</i>" with a scornful accent upon the last word.
"You speak of him as of an equal."
"Certainly," returned the baronet, a smile of amusement slightly curling
his lips, "Mr. Abbot was my equal, if not my superior, in point of
intellect, and all that goes to make a gentleman, while his daughter is
in no wise my inferior."
"How can you make such an absurd statement, William?" demanded his sister,
impatiently. "The idea of an American plebeian being the equal of a Heath
of Heathdale!"
Sir William laughed outright; then he said:
"Your loyalty to your family does you credit, Miriam, but I imagine, if
you should ever visit America—which I trust for your own sake, you will
do some time—that you will return much wiser than you went. Your ideas
regarding people and things, in that grand republic are very crude and
incorrect. But how do you like the face that I have shown you?"
"The face is well enough," Lady Linton was forced to admit.
There is nothing weak about it?"
"N-o."
"It is not lacking in intelligence or character?"
"Not so far as I am able to judge from a simple picture", the woman
confessed, rather reluctantly.
"And yet it does not flatter her; you do not often see a face like that
even among the noble families of England, and she is as lovely in mind as
in person," said Sir William, fondly, as he took up one of the photographs
and gazed upon it with his heart in his eyes.
"Humph! if you are so proud of your American bride, why did you not bring
her home with you?" Lady Linton inquired, in a mocking tone, and then
could have bitten her tongue through for having allowed herself to betray
her curiosity so far.
Sir William flushed hotly. It was evident that his sister was no more
reconciled since seeing Virgie's pictures than before. Her pride of birth
had received a shock which she could neither overlook nor forgive.
"Lady Heath was not able to travel. Her physician told me that if she
crossed the ocean it would be at the risk of her life. Miriam, Virgie will
soon become a mother, God willing."
Lady Linton started and shot a swift look of astonishment at her brother
upon this unexpected announcement.
This information was disagreeable in the extreme, for it made certain
plans, which her fertile brain had begun to weave as soon as she had
learned that her brother had returned without his wife, all the more
complicated, if not well-nigh impossible.
"It was a great trial for me to return without her," Sir William went on,
with a regretful sigh, "but your summons was so very imperative that I
felt obliged to do so. My darling bore it very bravely, however; she
regarded it as my duty to hasten to my mother, even though she would be
left alone, a stranger in a great city, and at such a critical time."
"Of course it was your duty to return to our mother," Lady Linton
responded emphatically, as if the young wife away upon the other side of
the Atlantic was not worthy of consideration. "And," she added, flashing a
look of defiance at her companion, "I am free to confess to a feeling of
relief that you had to come alone—"
"Miriam, I—"
"Hear me out, if you please," she interposed. "Mamma's heart has been
nearly broken at the thought of this ill-assorted marriage, and I believe
the excitement and grief would have killed her outright, if you had
brought her," with a withering glance at Virgie's picture, "to Heathdale
to reign as mistress."
Sir William was tried almost beyond endurance. It was more than a minute
before he could control himself sufficiently to speak, after his sister's
insulting remarks regarding his marriage.
"Miriam," he at length said, in a voice that made her quail in spite of
her effrontery, "you will please never speak like this again; it is, both
to my wife and me, an insult which I will not tolerate. Virgie is a lady
in every sense of the word; even my critical mother could pick no flaw in
her were she to see her, and the moment that I am at liberty to do so I
shall return to the United States and bring my darling back with me. And
let me here repeat what I said a while ago—I expect and demand that she
be received with all proper respect by the entire household."
"The household knows nothing of your marriage."
"What!" cried the young baronet, astonished.
"No one, save mamma and I, knows anything of this—this alliance."
"By whose authority have you kept such a matter secret?" Sir William
demanded, in great wrath.
"We—we thought it best," faltered his sister, shrinking beneath his
anger—she had never seen him so aroused before. "Mamma was so unhappy,
and I was so—so unreconciled, that we determined to wait until you wrote
definitely regarding your coming."
"You have overstepped all bounds, you have presumed beyond excuse,"
retorted her brother, in a voice of thunder. "I know that you are my
senior by fifteen years, and as a boy I was taught to look up to you, and
to render you the respect due an elder. But I am a child no longer. I am a
man, and you forget that I am not only my own master, but the master of
Heathdale as well. I have a right to choose for myself in all matters, and
you are not to consider that I am in leading strings, as I was before
your marriage, when you exercised, to a certain extent, authority over
me. And now if—I abhor thrifts, but I wish you to distinctly understand
me—if you cannot bring yourself to regard my marriage in a proper and
sensible light, and make up your mind to receive my wife as becomes a
sister of the house, the doors of Heathdale will henceforth be closed to
you."
Lady Linton was astounded at this outburst.
Her brother, heretofore, had always been a pattern of amiability and
gentleness, and had allowed her to have her own way mostly in the house.
In minor matters she had always ruled him, and she had never imagined that
he could rise to such a height as this.
She saw that she had gone too far, that she must change her tactics, or
forever lose all influence with him, and make an enemy of him.
She could ill afford to do this for several reasons.
She was the widow of Lord Percival Linton, who had married her chiefly for
her large dowry.
He had been a fast, unprincipled man, who had run through his own property
and most of hers before death put an end to his mad career.
They had one son, Percy, and a daughter, Lillian, and Lady Linton, with
her two children, had been largely dependent upon the generosity of her
brother ever since her husband's death, and he was even now bearing all
the expense of the education of his nephew and niece.
They had made their home chiefly at Heathdale, because Lady Linton's pride
could not tolerate life at Linton Grange when they had no means to keep it
up in proper style, and it was very pleasant and comfortable to be in her
brother's home, where there was abundance of everything, and where she had
been allowed to manage the household in her own way.
It would therefore be very mortifying to have its hospitable doors closed
against her, and, finding herself liable to be ignominiously checkmated if
she persisted in her present course, she resolved to "right about face"
with the greatest grace possible, at least until she was obliged to yield
her position to the future mistress of Heathdale.
"Fie, William, don't allow yourself to get in such a passion," she said,
in a conciliatory tone. "Perhaps I have expressed myself more freely than
I ought, but you ought to make allowance for our great disappointment.
Remember that you are the pride of an old and honored family, and it is
but natural that we should wish you to marry in your own station. But do
not fear. When Lady Heath comes to take her place as mistress here she
shall be received in a becoming manner."
Her ladyship arose as she ceased speaking, her eye falling as she did so
upon the lovely upturned face upon the table, and she vowed in her heart
that if she could prevent it, the girl should never set her foot over the
threshold of Heathdale.
How she was to carry out this vow she had as yet no idea; but all the
malice and enmity of her heart had been aroused against her, and it should
go hard with her if she could not find some way to vent it upon her.
"Thank you, Miriam," Sir William responded, as he opened the door for his
sister to pass out, but he spoke somewhat coldly.
He could not lightly forgive and overlook the scorn that had been heaped
upon the darling of his heart, while the fact that his marriage had been
kept a secret angered him exceedingly, and placed him in a very unpleasant
position.
He resolved that as soon as his mother should be better, he would have a
plain talk with her, also, and insist upon an announcement of Lady Heath's
existence and her expected arrival. But until the invalid was out of
danger he deemed it advisable not to create any excitement on the subject.