“Madam, be careful how you speak of my husband!” Virgie interrupted, haughtily, yet with a note of agony in her voice.  “Sir William is an honorable man, and I will not allow you to say one word against him in my presence.”

“Poor child! poor child!  I fear you have been terribly deceived.  How can I ever tell you!” murmured Mrs. Farnum, in a shuddering voice, and with every appearance of distress.

“You shall tell me instantly.  I will not stand here and listen to such paralyzing insinuations. If you have any thing to tell me, say it at once, and do not keep me in this maddening suspense!” Virgie commanded grasping the woman by the wrist, and transfixing her with her blazing eyes.

If Sir William Heath could have seen her at that moment he would have been very proud of her, for she had never been so beautiful, although a terrible agony was stamped upon her white, imperious face.

“I can only repeat what I have already said.  It is impossible.  You will never be mistress of Heathdale!” reiterated Mrs. Farnum, in an inflexible voice, as she disengaged her wrist from Virgie’s grasp, which had left the imprint of every finger upon it.

“Go on!” commanded the young wife, authoritatively “You have simply made a statement.  You must confirm it.”

“Because,” proceeded the relentless woman, “in the first place, if you are his wife, he would long before this have acknowledged you as such to his friends.”

“He has done so, I tell you.  He wrote immediately after our marriage, announcing it.”

“Did you see him post his letter?” inquired Mrs. Farnum, quietly, but in a tone that keenly stung the sensitive girl before her.

“No,” she replied, a hot flush mounting to her brow; “but I know he did.  He is to honorable to dissemble.”

“Did you ever see any reply to his communication in which his friends recognized the fact of your marriage?”

“No.  I—­I never questioned him,” Virgie answered, with white lips.  “My father was very ill, dying, at that time, and I scarcely thought of anything else.”

“But of course you have your marriage certificate.  That would prove everything,” observed Mrs. Farnum, insinuatingly, although she well knew that she had not.

“My husband has it.”

“Ah!” and a pitiful smile wreathed the woman’s lips as she uttered this interpection with significant emphasis.

“Madam, can you not see that you are driving me mad?” cried Virgie, in an agonized voice.  “You have heard something; you are concealing something from me.  For mercy’s sake, make an end of this suspense!”

“Answer me one question more.  Were there witnesses at your marriage?”

“Yes, four.”

“Four!  Who were they?”

Mrs. Farnum asked this question in a somewhat disappointed tone, for if the young wife could bring four witnesses to prove her marriage, Lady Linton might well tremble for the success of her plots, though Nevada was a long distance from England, and there might be some difficulty in producing them.