The meeting with his sister had been somewhat cold and formal, for he could not forget how harshly she had expressed herself regarding his choice, while she could not and would not forgive him for disappointing all her ambitious hopes for him.

Like his mother, she ignored the subject of his marriage not deigning to make the slightest inquiry regarding his wife, although she had been greatly astonished at the non-appearance of Virgie, and was burning with curiosity to know why he had returned alone.

This negligence and obstinacy on her part made Sir William very indignant, and after the first excitement consequent upon his arrival had subsided, he determined to assert himself, and have it distinctly understood that his wife was henceforth to be recognized as a member of and a power in his household.

Therefore, the morning following his return he had drawn Lady Linton into the library, and after conducting her, with something of formal politeness, to a seat, remarked: 

“Miriam, you have not yet done me the honor to inquire after Lady Heath.”

Lady Linton bowed coldly, and lifted her fine eyebrows questioningly.

Sir William flushed angrily.

“It is evident that you are still very angry with me, and intend to annoy me upon this point,” he continued, sternly, “and we may as well understand each other at the outset.  I shall demand and expect that my wife when I bring her home, will be received with all the honor and courtesy which has ever been accorded to the mistress of Heathdale in the past.”

Again Lady Linton bowed; but she did not deign to open her lips in response, although a spot of vivid red settled in either cheek.

“She is worthy of it in every respect,” her brother resumed a gleam of fire in his eye, “and will grace the position which I have given her as well as the most noted London belle could do.  I have pictures of her here—­perhaps you will do me the favor to look at them.”

He laid two or three fine photographs of Virgie, taken in different attitudes, before her, as he concluded, and then leaned back in his chair watching her attentively to see what effect that beautiful face would have upon her.

Her ladyship adjusted her eyeglasses with English precision, and taking up one of the pictures regarded it with all the indifference which she could muster.  She was not, however, quite prepared for what she saw; and the quick, curious, half-admiring gleam which shot into her eye told that she had not failed to acknowledge the exceeding loveliness of that fair face, and the natural grace and dignity displayed in the young wife’s attitude.

She took up each picture separately, and her brother could see her indifference gradually melting away, a keen and critical look taking its place.

“Who was she?” she at length condescended to ask, though somewhat curtly.

“The daughter of a California gentleman,” Sir William answered, quietly.