Virgie's Inheritance Part 8

"Tell me, and it shall be granted if it is in the power of man," returned Sir William, eagerly.

"I should like, if you can win Virgie's consent, to see her your wife before I die. It will be better for you both; then, after I am gone, you can take her away as soon as you choose, and perhaps among new scenes and with new ties she will not grieve so bitterly for me."

Sir William Heath's heart leaped with joy at this proposition, though there was an expression of sadness on his handsome face as he looked upon the wreck before him, and realized how truly he had spoken. He knew that he had very little time to live.

"If I can win her, nothing would make me happier than to accede to your wish," he said, in a low, earnest tone.

At this time, a light step was heard in the hall, and the next moment the door was opened, while a sweet young voice called:

"Come, papa and Mr. Heath--tea is ready; the peaches are delicious, and Chi Lu has obtained, from some mysterious source, real cream to eat with them."

Chapter VII.

"Will You Be My Wife?"

In spite of the exciting conversation of the last half-hour Mr. Abbot appeared more than usually cheerful during tea. He was indeed more like the brilliant, entertaining host that he used to be in their former beautiful home in San Francisco, than Virgie had seen him since their troubles had come upon them.

At the same, time the young girl wondered what could have occurred to make their guest so silent and preoccupied. It was evidently an effort for him to converse at all, while two or three times he was addressed more than once before he responded, but his glance whenever it met hers thrilled her strangely, and kept a beautiful flush upon her cheeks throughout the meal.

When it was concluded the two young people went out upon the porch to view the sunset, while Mr. Abbot retired to his room where he began looking over and rearranging the papers in his desk.

There was no need now to send that written history with its request for fatherly care for Virgie, to Lawrence Bancroft. He had not a doubt as to the result of Sir William Heath's wooing. He was sure that Virgie loved him, and he was filled with a blessed content and fervent grat.i.tude that so bright a future was opening before his darling.

She would go to another country where none of the old troubles could touch her, where no one would be able to point the finger of scorn at her and whisper that her name had been branded with dishonor, and where, surrounded by her n.o.ble husband's love and care, occupying a high social position with every good thing that wealth could secure, her life would be one long summer of peace and happiness.

Meantime an awkward pause had fallen between Virgie and her lover standing outside upon the porch.

It was broken at last by the baronet with a very trite remark:

"What a warm evening."

"Yes, it has been a very warm day," answered Virgie, feeling very much inclined to laugh, for never before had they been forced to talk of the weather in order to keep up a conversation.

"Let us go to our seat under the old pine tree," said Sir William, and without waiting for her consent, he stepped down to lead the way.

Virgie glanced at him questioningly.

The unusual gravity which she had observed during tea still rested upon his face and vibrated in his tones.

She wondered at it, and yet, although she could not have told why, her heart began to beat with quickened throbs on account of it.

Reaching their favorite nook, Sir William gently seated his companion, and then stood looking down upon her a moment without speaking.

Then he spoke, and there was a tenderer note in his voice than she had ever heard before.

"Virgie," he said, "have you ever wondered why I came here and turned miner?"

She looked up quickly as he spoke her name thus for the first time, then her eyes suddenly drooped beneath the look in his.

"Yes, I have thought it a little singular that you should choose just this work and this locality," she answered, in a low tone.

"May I tell you why I came?" seating himself at her side.

"Certainly, if you like."

"It was because I found here the only woman whom I could ever love.

Virgie, you are that woman, and my heart told me on that first evening when I came to you, cold, wet, and hungry, that I must win your love or my future would be void and desolate. So I seized upon the first reasonable pretext I could find for remaining, and that, you know, your father offered me in disposing of his claim. Sometimes I have hoped that you were learning to love me in return; sometimes I have feared that I should not succeed in this, the dearest object of my life. My darling, I resolved to-night that I would put my fate to the test. Will you give yourself to me for all time, my beautiful mountain queen? Do you love me well enough, dear, to put your hand in mine and tell me that you will go with me wherever I will, as my loved and cherished wife?"

Virginia Abbot sat there, her perfect form outlined against the dark, moss-grown rock that arose, rugged and grand, behind her. The softened light, as it fell upon her through the boughs of the tree above her, made her seem like some exquisite picture painted by a master-hand. Her hands, white as Parian marble, were quietly folded in her lap, but her heart was in a tumult of joy, and her color came and went in fitful flushes.

She knew that she deeply loved this grand man, who had come to her mountain home in the early summer time, and she felt that earth could hold no higher happiness for her than to become his wife and go with him whithersoever he willed. But she knew, too, that her first duty lay with her father; that she must have no interests that would interfere with the care and attention which she owed to him in his failing condition.

"Virgie, you will not crush the sweet hope that has been taking root in my heart during these months that I have spent with you," Sir William pleaded, his face paling as she did not answer, and a fear smiting him that he might have been nouris.h.i.+ng a delusion. "I have fancied that I have seen the love-light dawning in your eyes--oh, do not tell me that I have been deceiving myself. My darling, I will try to make your life very bright if you will give yourself to me."

Virgie looked up now with a steady, unwavering glance into his eager eyes, although her face was dyed with blushes.

"Mr. Heath," she faltered, "you know I cannot leave my father."

"Of course I know it," he returned, his face lighting "I do not ask it, darling; I only ask that you will give yourself into my keeping, and then we will devote ourselves to him as long as he lives. Oh, my dearest"--as he saw an answering gleam in her eyes--"you do love me!"

"Yes, I love you," Virgie breathed, with a downcast but happy face; and then she was gathered close to her lover's manly breast in a fond embrace.

"My love! my love! I would serve twice seven years, as Jacob did, in this wild region for the sake of winning that coveted confession from your dear lips. My mountain queen! and you will soon be my wife?"

But Virgie sat up suddenly at this and pushed him from her with gentle force, a frightened look in her eyes. Oh, "what have I done? I am afraid I have done wrong!" she cried.

"Wrong, dearest, in confessing that you love me!" Sir William whispered, as he tried to draw her again into his arms.

"But you do not know--I have no right to tell you; no--no, I am afraid I ought not to be your wife," she said, remembering, with a sense of shame and misery, the stigma resting upon her name.

The young man regarded her anxiously for a moment; then he understood it all.

"Virgie," he said, "you need not fear to promise all that I ask, for I know what troubles you. I asked your father's sanction to my suit before I came to you, and he told me all his sad story. But it need be no barrier to our happiness. I told him so, and he gave you to me--providing I could win you--with his blessing."

Virgie lifted her face, all radiant with a sweet new joy, a sense of exultation in her heart.

"And you were willing----" she began, wondering at the great love that could thus level what she had had feared would be an insurmountable barrier.

"Willing, love, to make myself the happiest man on earth," he interrupted, in a voice that actually trembled with joy. "What Mr. Abbot told me does not affect your worth or character, nor his either, and some time I believe the wrong will be made all right. Even were the facts more serious than they are, they need not trouble us, for I could take you far away from every breath of evil, and as my wife it could never touch you.

So you will give yourself to me, Virgie?"

"Yes," she answered, with grave sweetness; "if papa thinks it is right, I cannot put my cup of happiness away untasted."

Sir William Heath bent and touched the beautiful girl's lips with his first lover's kiss.