Her “Gleanings from the Heights” proved a great success, selling faster than the firm could issue them.  Besides this she had been awarded the first prize on the other souvenirs, so that, pecuniarily, she had nothing to fear for the future.

And now she set about another undertaking which she had long contemplated; that of obtaining a divorce from her husband.

She did not take this step because she had any desire to break the tie that bound her to him, and she would never have moved in the matter at all but for the fact that others had assailed her fair name and assumed that her child was dishonored.

Her chief aim, in collecting the proofs of the legality of her marriage, had been to secure to little Virgie the right to the name she bore, and an indisputable title to her inheritance by and by when she should be of a suitable age to claim and enjoy it.

She meant to give her every advantage as she grew older, and do everything possible to fit her for a high position in life; and when, at length, she should reach her majority, she would claim her rights and take care that she secured them in spite of all opposition.

This was all the revenge that Virgie ever intended to take for the wrong that she believed herself to have suffered at her husband’s hands.  She would scorn to accept anything for herself, but the lawful position of her daughter must and should be recognized.

Her residence of a year in San Francisco had given her the right to apply to the court to have her marriage bonds annulled, and she put her case into the hands of a competent lawyer, recommended by Mr. Knight, to whom she had confided something of her history, and solicited his advice regarding the matter.

He had advised her not to take any legal proceedings until she had tried to confer with Sir William again.

“There is some mistake, I feel sure,” he said, “some misunderstanding which might be explained if proper measures were adopted.”

“A mistake!” repeated Virgie, scornfully, her eyes blazing with indignation.  “I imagine that the only mistake about the whole matter is that I allowed myself to become the dupe of an unprincipled man.”

“It can at least do no harm to write him what your intentions are,” suggested Mr. Knight, mildly.

“I wrote him letter after letter while I was in New York.  Mrs. Farnum, of whom I have told you, knew the whole family, and wrote of me to Lady Linton, but they appeared to be in total ignorance of even my existence, while Mrs. Farnum asserted that Sir William had been engaged for years to Miss Stanhope, and I have already told you of his subsequent marriage with her.”

“Still I cannot comprehend how he should dare to commit such a wrong,” persisted Mr. Knight.  “He must have known that his marriage with you was legal, according to the laws of the State in which it occurred, and the mere fact of his leaving the country could not annul it.  If he had assumed a name while he was here, it would not seem so inexplicable, but all the papers which you hold go to show that he married you under his own name and title; while your description of the character of the man makes it seem utterly impossible that he should be guilty of such conduct.”