Threads gathered up

“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?”