Virgie's Inheritance Part 18

"Virginia May Heath," the woman replied, thinking the young lady very gracious.

"Oh, how pretty! I suppose she will be called 'May.' She looks just like a little May blossom."

"No, miss; they call her Virgie. Madam would have preferred the other name, but her husband wanted her called for his wife, of whom he is very fond."

Sadie Farnum's face clouded at this.

"I presume that delicate lady whom I see occasionally walking here in the corridor is La--is Mrs. Heath?" she said, more to make the nurse talk than because she desired information on this point.

"Yes, miss; the streets are so rough she does not care much for driving, and she must have some exercise."

Virgie herself appeared in the doorway of her parlor at this moment, and smiled as she noticed the young lady admiring her baby.

Miss Farnum colored slightly, then said boldly, with a light laugh:

"Pray do not think me very bold, Mrs. Heath, but I have been seeking an introduction to your little daughter. She is very lovely, and I am so fond of babies."

While she spoke her eyes had been fixed upon Virgie's face, and she thought she had never looked upon any one more beautiful than this woman who was her rival--for so she regarded her.

She wore a delicate blue lawn, trimmed profusely with filmy white lace; there was a dainty cap upon her head, while she had a few blush-roses fastened in her belt. Every day she was growing stronger and better, and her beauty seemed to increase in proportion.

She bowed to Sadie, and smiled again as she remarked that it was rather unusual for young ladies to be so fond of children of that tender age.

"Then I am an exception to the rule, Mrs. Heath," Miss Farnum answered; "but since I have made your daughter's acquaintance, allow me to introduce myself to you also. I am Sadie Farnum, and mamma and I are your nearest left-hand neighbors."

"I am very glad to know you, Miss Farnum," Virgie returned, graciously, and thinking her delightfully frank and pleasant.

She was really very glad to meet her in a less formal way than usual, and hoped they should be friends.

She had been feeling rather lonely of late, besides being depressed on account of her husband's long silence; she had no acquaintances, and saw scarcely any one save the physician and her nurse.

"I am afraid mamma will think I have committed a shocking breach of etiquette," Sadie went on; "but we are strangers in the city, and I have been longing to know you ever since our first meeting here in the corridor. May I come in to see you occasionally, and this little darling?"

She concluded with such a winning air, as she stooped and lightly kissed the tiny pink face lying upon the nurse's arm, that Virgie's heart was entirely won.

"Yes, indeed, Miss Farnum; I should be delighted to have you. I am alone most of the time, and it would be very pleasant to have some young company."

"Thank you. Then, if you do not object, I will waive all ceremony, and come to see you in a friendly way. May I bring mamma, too, and introduce her to you?"

"I shall be very glad to meet Mrs. Farnum," Virgie responded, and then instantly asked herself if she had spoken the exact truth, for she stood somewhat in awe of that aristocratic and imposing looking woman, whose curious, piercing glance, in spite of her a.s.sumption of friendliness, gave her an unpleasant sensation.

"Mamma, the ice is broken at last!" Sadie Farnum cried, rushing in upon her mother, with a glowing face, after the above interview, and she proceeded to give her a detailed account of her meeting with Virgie.

"She is as lovely as a dream, mamma," she said, "and as sweet and gracious as any lady need to be. If she were not Sir William Heath's wife I should be ready to do homage at her shrine with all my heart."

"Nonsense! Has she any education? Can she converse respectably?" demanded Mrs. Farnum, with a frown at her daughter's enthusiasm.

"She is a perfect lady, and her language is beyond criticism--she is fit to be the wife of any peer."

"Gracious! Sadie, how you annoy me!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Farnum, angrily.

"Just think of her antecedents."

"Well, the girl is not to blame if her father was a scamp, and should not be made to suffer for his sins," responded her daughter, who was not naturally bad, and but for her mother's influence, would even now have been won to a better disposition by Virgie's sweetness.

"What rank folly you are talking!" retorted her mother. "No girl has a right to marry a respectable man with such a stain on her name."

"Perhaps she does not know anything about her father's crime."

"Pshaw! She was fifteen years old when they had to flee from San Francisco; she could not help knowing that something was wrong, and as she grew older she could not fail to understand it. From the way you talk it is evident that you yourself have fallen in love with the woman who has cheated you out of your husband."

"Perhaps I have, mamma," Sadie answered, with a spice of defiance and wickedly taking pleasure in working her mother up to a certain pitch. "She looked so pretty just now--she has the loveliest complexion, just clear red and white, with such dark blue eyes that they seem almost black when she is animated, and such pretty waving brown hair, while her features are pure and delicate Her taste, too, is exquisite--her dress was just the right shade to set off her clear skin; she had the daintiest little matron's cap on her head--real thread, too--while a handful of blush-roses in her belt made her look too lovely for anything."

"Do hush, Sadie; you irritate me beyond endurance; one would think that you were only too ready to renounce all your hopes to this plebeian who has stolen your lover," and Mrs. Farnum turned upon her daughter as if ready to shake her for her folly.

"Mamma!" she cried, pa.s.sionately, and bursting into tears, for she had been working herself up as well, "when I am away from her I hate her for having won him from me, and I am almost ready to do anything desperate; but when I am with her she disarms me; there is something about the girl that almost makes me love her. If you could have seen her this morning, she looked so proud and happy when I praised the baby."

"Sadie Farnum, I do believe you are becoming demented! Here is poor Lady Linton almost heart-broken over her brother's mesalliance, his mother lies at death's door on account of the excitement caused by it, while you, who ought to be the most interested party of all, are about to turn traitress and go over to the enemy just because of a foolish sentimentality for this doll-faced girl. I declare, I have no patience with you."

"I think you have said enough, mamma," replied Miss Farnum, coldly, and wiping away her tears, "but there may come a time when you will regret your present att.i.tude--when you will be sorry that you strove to inculcate such a bitter spirit into the mind of your only daughter. Lady Linton for some strange reason wanted us to come here and see for ourselves what this girl is like; we have seen her. Let us go our way now and not revive old hopes and ambitions, which, to say the least, are not pleasant to remember under the circ.u.mstances. Yes, let us end this disagreeable business, and leave Sir William Heath's wife alone."

"I am not ready to leave New York yet, and we will stay where we are for the present," responded Mrs. Farnum, flushing a deep red, for she had never told her daughter of the plot which she was helping Lady Linton to carry out, and she saw now that it would not be wise to do so, since Sadie might flatly refuse to have anything to do with it, and in her present state of mind, might do something to upset their well-laid schemes.

Chapter XIV.

The Plot Begins to Work.

The acquaintance between the Farnums and Virgie progressed rapidly after the meeting between Sadie and the young wife. Mrs. Farnum was duly introduced, and did not prove to be nearly so formidable a personage as Virgie had imagined her to be; for although she was not drawn toward her as she had been to her daughter, yet she was so gracious and exerted herself to be so agreeable, that Virgie could but acknowledge to herself that she was a very pleasant and entertaining person.

Visits were exchanged almost every day between them; the baby was praised and admired, and Virgie was petted and made much of, until her heart and confidence were entirely won.

They insisted upon her driving with them; "the fresh air would do her good," Mrs. Farnum declared, "for she had noticed during the last week that she was losing color;" and thus she made many excursions with the two ladies, and visited many points of interest. They even proposed that they should go into the country together, as it was getting so oppressively warm in the city; but Virgie would not listen to this proposition, because of her anxiety for letters, and the hope that Sir William might be coming for her.

Poor child! she was, indeed, losing color, and was almost heart-sick with the terrible suspense, although she tried to be very brave and to conceal her trouble from every eye.

She wrote again and again to her husband, begging for one line, one word even, pleading that he would let her come to him if he was ill and needed her. She would gladly brave the dangers of the ocean alone, she told him, if he would but give her his consent to do so.

But still that terrible silence remained unbroken.

She was almost tempted to set out alone in spite of everything, and nothing but the fear of pa.s.sing her husband on the way prevented her doing so.

She had learned that the Farnums were English, but upon discovering that their home was a long distance from Heathdale--Mr. Farnum owned a large estate in Bedford County--she reasoned that they could not know anything of Sir William's family; and being extremely sensitive regarding his recent apparent neglect of her, she did not once hint that she expected her own future home would also be in England.

Meantime Lady Linton's plans were ripening. Events were occurring at Heathdale which she trusted would serve her purpose well; and now Mrs.

Farnum was only waiting for a favorable opportunity to commence aggressive operations.