“He has ruined his life!” cried Lady Linton, his sister, in a white rage, after reading the letter.  “To think of it!—­he has married a perfect savage from the wilds of America!  A pretty mistress for dear old Heathdale, truly.  I will never receive her, never!”

“You know what William is, Miriam, and it will not be wise for you to offend him.  He will never tolerate any display of arrogance or discourtesy to his wife,” returned the dowager Lady Heath, more quietly, yet looking the picture of despair over the mesalliance.

“I cannot help it; it is an abominable insult to all his friends, and never to tell us anything about it until the die was cast!”

“But he explains why he could not; the marriage was hastened on account of the father’s critical condition replied Lady Heath.

“Oh, I believe it was all a cunning plan to entrap him and secure the girl a title and position,” groaned Lady Linton.  “How will Sadie feel; what will she say?”

“I do not know as she has any right to say anything,” answered the dowager, with some dignity, for she loved her son and could not bear to have any one assail him, no matter how much she might blame him herself.  “William has never committed himself to her in any way; that plan has been more ours than his.”

She was fully as unreconciled as her daughter; still she was capable of looking at matters as they really were.

“Oh, I cannot have it so, mamma; do not let us say anything about the affair at present,” pleaded her daughter.  “William says it will be some time before he returns, as he wishes to show his wife something of the world first.  Doubtless,” she continued, with increasing bitterness, “he desires to polish off some of the rough edges before he presents her to us; so let us suppress the fact of his marriage until the time is set for their coming; it will be hard enough even then to acknowledge the plebeian union.”

Lady Heath demurred at first at this proposal, but she finally yielded the point, and nothing was said regarding the baronet’s sudden marriage, and this was the beginning of a plot to ruin the life of a beautiful young wife, and to bring years of misery upon a noble man.

* * * * *

Virgie found it very pleasant in some respects, though sad in others, to return to San Francisco, her former home.

She had left the city nearly six years ago, when she was an undeveloped girl; she returned to it in the full glory of beautiful womanhood, and owing to her many changes which had occurred there, as well as in her own personal appearance and position, no one appeared to recognize her as the daughter of the unfortunate man who had figured so conspicuously in a terrible scandal there, and then suddenly disappeared covering his tracks so successfully that no one, either friend or foe, knew whither he had gone.

The young wife was very happy in spite of her recent bereavement; her husband was kindness and nobility personified, and left nothing undone that could contribute in any degree to her pleasure, or prevent her from brooding upon her father’s death.