The Lawful Wife.
"Have you a picture of your—of Sir William, madam?" Mrs. Farnum inquired,
as she folded the letter and returned it to the envelope.
Virgie arose without a word, and taking a velvet album from the table,
opened it to certain picture and laid it before her companion.
Mrs. Farnum uttered a cry of despair as her glance fell upon the handsome,
upturned face.
"Yes, that is a picture of Sir William Heath, of Heathdale; there can be
no mistake," she confessed, with a perfectly rigid face. "But, Mrs.—oh,
madam—I am simply stunned!"
"What <i>do</i> you mean?" Virgie demanded, standing straight and tall before
her, and meeting her eyes with a blazing look which warned Mrs. Farnum to
be careful how she dealt with that spirit.
"Pray, be calm, my child," she returned, with a pitiful accent. "Sit down
beside me here, and I will explain why I am so disturbed. Good heavens! we
have always supposed that Sir William was a man of unblemished honor."
"Madam, be careful how you speak of my husband!" Virgie interrupted,
haughtily, yet with a note of agony in her voice. "Sir William is an
honorable man, and I will not allow you to say one word against him in my
presence."
"Poor child! poor child! I fear you have been terribly deceived. How can
I ever tell you!" murmured Mrs. Farnum, in a shuddering voice, and with
every appearance of distress.
"You <i>shall</i> tell me instantly. I will not stand here and listen to such
paralyzing insinuations. <i>If</i> you have any thing to tell me, say it at
once, and do not keep me in this maddening suspense!" Virgie commanded
grasping the woman by the wrist, and transfixing her with her blazing
eyes.
If Sir William Heath could have seen her at that moment he would have been
very proud of her, for she had never been so beautiful, although a
terrible agony was stamped upon her white, imperious face.
"I can only repeat what I have already said. It is impossible. You will
never be mistress of Heathdale!" reiterated Mrs. Farnum, in an inflexible
voice, as she disengaged her wrist from Virgie's grasp, which had left the
imprint of every finger upon it.
"Go on!" commanded the young wife, authoritatively "You have simply made a
statement. You must confirm it."
"Because," proceeded the relentless woman, "in the first place, if you are
his wife, he would long before this have acknowledged you as such to his
friends."
"He has done so, I tell you. He wrote immediately after our marriage,
announcing it."
"Did you see him <i>post</i> his letter?" inquired Mrs. Farnum, quietly, but in
a tone that keenly stung the sensitive girl before her.
"No," she replied, a hot flush mounting to her brow; "but I know he did.
He is too honorable to dissemble."
"Did you ever see any reply to his communication in which his friends
recognized the fact of your marriage?"
"No. I—I never questioned him," Virgie answered, with white lips. "My
father was very ill, dying, at that time, and I scarcely thought of
anything else."
"But of course you have your marriage certificate. That would prove
everything," observed Mrs. Farnum, insinuatingly, although she well knew
that she had not.
"My husband has it."
"Ah!" and a pitiful smile wreathed the woman's lips as she uttered this
interpection with significant emphasis.
"Madam, can you not see that you are driving me mad?" cried Virgie, in an
agonized voice. "You have heard something; you are concealing something
from me. For mercy's sake, make an end of this suspense!"
"Answer me one question more. Were there witnesses at your marriage?"
"Yes, four."
"Four! Who were they?"
Mrs. Farnum asked this question in a somewhat disappointed tone, for if
the young wife could bring four witnesses to prove her marriage, Lady
Linton might well tremble for the success of her plots, though Nevada was
a long distance from England, and there might be some difficulty in
producing them.
"My father"—a sob checked Virgie's utterance as she mentioned him, and
realized how forlorn her condition would be if the horrible suspicions
which were being sown in her mind should prove true—"the clergyman who
performed the ceremony, a woman who lived near us, and our own servant."
"Then, since you have no tangible proof in your own hands that you are Sir
William Heath's lawful wife, I advise you to communicate with those
witnesses without delay, since their testimony alone will serve to
establish your rights and—those of your child," Mrs. Farnum said, with a
solemnity that struck a fearful chill to Virgie's heart.
"My child!"
It was a startled, anguished cry, and all the mother-love and anxiety was
instantly aroused for her little one.
Was it possible that anything was threatening the honor and future
happiness of her child, who, next to its father, was at once her pride and
idol?
"Oh!" she cried, pressing her hands to her throbbing temples, "why will
you talk so in riddles? If you have anything to tell me, in pity speak out
before I lose my reason!"
"Wait one moment, and I will bring you a letter which I have recently
received, and when I have read it to you, you will understand why I have
been so skeptical regarding what you have told me, and why I have
questioned you so closely."
With these words, Mrs. Farnum arose and left the room, while Virgie,
almost stunned by the fearful suspicions which had been so artfully thrust
upon her, and feeling almost as if a knife had been driven through her
heart, sank nerveless and trembling into a chair to await her return.
The relentless woman was not gone long. The ice was thoroughly broken at
last, and she meant to make quick work of her task now. Lady Linton had
written to her that her brother was becoming very impatient at being
detained so long from his wife; he was nearly ill from anxiety because he
did not hear from her, and she feared he would soon brave everything and
go to her; so whatever was done to separate them eventually, must be
quickly done.
She soon returned, holding in her hand a letter, and a lurid light burned
in her eyes as she glanced at the stricken wife saw how well her blows had
told.
"This letter," she began, seating herself, and drawing some closely
written pages from their perfumed envelope, "is from Lady Linton, my
intimate friend, and Sir William Heath's sister, and you will perceive, as
I read, that my authority for what I have told you is indisputable.
Perhaps, however, you would prefer to read it yourself," she concluded,
holding it out to her.
But Virgie made a gesture of dissent. She felt that she had not strength
even to hold those thin sheets of paper in her trembling hands.
"Very well; then, I will read it to you; but, my young friend, you must be
prepared for some startling news."
Virgie opened her lips as if to speak, but the words died on them, and
Mrs. Farnum began:
"My Dear Myra:—You will be glad to learn that mamma is really
better—not, of course, as far on the road to convalescence as we could
desire, but comfortable enough to have had the wedding take place as
appointed It would have been too bad if it had to be postponed; so
unlucky, you know. We thought once that we should have to put it off
indefinitely; but, as mamma could not bear the thought, and Sir Herbert
consenting, provided there should be no excitement, we decided not to
disarrange the long-talked-of plans. Will and Margie both behaved
beautifully, and declared they would cheerfully defer everything if mamma
was likely to suffer from it; but it was very evident that their happiness
was greatly augmented when told that it would not be necessary. The
wedding occurred on the 28th, in the Heath chapel. It was, of course, very
quiet and unassuming, though the bride was lovely in her robe of white
satin, exquisitely decorated with Chantilly lace, and wreath of heath,
which it has always been the custom for the brides of the house to wear.
William looked as noble as ever, and our good old rector made the service
very impressive not forgetting to mention in his prayer, most touchingly,
her who lay ill at home and could not grace with her presence the glad
occasion. There was a very quiet breakfast afterward at Mrs. Stanhope's,
after which Will and Margie came over for mamma's congratulations and
blessing.
"They are not going on a journey just now. They will visit London for a
few days, and then return here and remain at home for the present. Will
seems almost like a boy in his happiness, while Margie is sweeter and
prettier than ever. Of course we are all delighted, for we have always
been so pleased at the prospect of the match, though I was afraid for a
little while that something might happen. I feared there had been some
nonsense when William was in America for I came across the photograph of
the loveliest face I ever saw, one day, while looking over and arranging
his wardrobe after his return. But the old saying proves true—'All's well
that ends well,' and I trust there is a brilliant future for the master of
Heathdale."
There was more pertaining to family matters, which Mrs. Farnum thought
best to omit after stealing a look at Virgie.
Her face was frightful to behold, and for a moment the woman was
positively alarmed at the result of her work.
She sat like a statue, scarce seeming to breathe; there was not the
slightest color in her face or lips, and the expression of agony about her
mouth reveiled something of the fearful suffering she was enduring, while
there was a look in her eyes which her companion never forgot.
She did not move for several minutes after Mrs. Farnum ceased reading; it
was as if she had suddenly been turned to stone, and was oblivious of
everything.
Mrs. Farnum was awed by her appearance, and hardly dared to speak to her,
lest, in breaking the spell, the girl should drop dead at her feet.
But all at once Virgie started; some thought seemed to have come to
her—something that made her doubt that the dreadful tidings to which she
had listened were true.
The letter had spoken of "Will" and "William," to be sure, and she had
every reason to suppose that it had referred to the man whom she had
believed to be her husband—still there might be a mistake. She grasped at
the straw with the eagerness of a drowning man.
"Of whom is Lady Linton speaking in her letter, as having been—married?"
she demanded, in a hollow voice, and fixing her burning eyes upon her
companion's face.
"Why, of William Heath, of course," returned Mrs. Farnum, greatly relieved
to hear her speak once more, "and I have known him all my life. I used to
visit at Heathdale a great deal before Lady Linton's marriage, and he was
always a favorite of mine. He was a bright, manly fellow, and his friends
have planned great things for him. I—I can hardly credit what you have
told me to-day. I did not dream he could do anything so wrong; but
doubtless he will settle down now, and I shall expect to see him a member
of Parliament; he has everything in his favor."
"Who is—Margie?" Virgie asked, in the same tone as before, though she had
shivered at the last words of Mrs. Farnum; they were bitterly cruel.
"Why, Margaret Stanhope—one of the loveliest girls in Hampshire County.
She and Will have been engaged for years. You remember that Lady Linton
spoke of their always having been 'pleased with the prospect of the
match.'"
"Oh!" gasped Virgie, clasping her hands over her aching heart, and for a
moment everything seemed to fade from her vision, and a great darkness to
envelop her.
Mrs. Farnum thought she was going to faint; but the weakness passed, and
then she arose in all the majesty of her terrible agony and righteous
indignation.
"Madam," she began, standing straight and proud before the astonished
woman, "If what you have told me is true; if Sir William Heath has been
engaged to Margaret Stanhope for years; if he has pretended to marry her
since his return to England, then the greatest wrong that ever was
perpetrated has been done, and he has made a dupe of her and—broken my
heart. As sure as there is a just God, I am Sir William Heath's lawful
wife, and He will vindicate me. My child is his daughter, and the heiress
of Heathdale, and Margaret Stanhope has been shamefully betrayed. I shall
never allow such a crime to prevail. I shall sail for Liverpool on the
very next steamer, to expose this villainy and to assert my legal rights
and my daughter's claim to her position as a Heath of Heathdale. She, at
least, shall not suffer dishonor, if the lives of two women have been
ruined by the villainy of one man. Did he suppose, because England is
three thousand miles from America, that he could perpetrate this wrong
with impunity? I tell you it shall never be! I will face him in the home
of his <i>unimpeachable ancestors,</i> and see if he dares to repudiate his
lawful wife!"