But all at once Virgie started; some thought seemed to have come to her—­something that made her doubt that the dreadful tidings to which she had listened were true.

The letter had spoken of “Will” and “William,” to be sure, and she had every reason to suppose that it had referred to the man whom she had believed to be her husband—­still there might be a mistake.  She grasped at the straw with the eagerness of a drowning man.

“Of whom is Lady Linton speaking in her letter, as having been—­married?” she demanded, in a hollow voice, and fixing her burning eyes upon her companion’s face.

“Why, of William Heath, of course,” returned Mrs. Farnum, greatly relieved to hear her speak once more, “and I have known him all my life.  I used to visit at Heathdale a great deal before Lady Linton’s marriage, and he was always a favorite of mine.  He was a bright, manly fellow, and his friends have planned great things for him.  I—­I can hardly credit what you have told me to-day.  I did not dream he could do anything so wrong; but doubtless he will settle down now, and I shall expect to see him a member of Parliament; he has everything in his favor.”

“Who is—­Margie?” Virgie asked, in the same tone as before, though she had shivered at the last words of Mrs. Farnum; they were bitterly cruel.

“Why, Margaret Stanhope—­one of the loveliest girls in Hampshire County.  She and Will have been engaged for years.  You remember that Lady Linton spoke of their always having been ’pleased with the prospect of the match.’”

“Oh!” gasped Virgie, clasping her hands over her aching heart, and for a moment everything seemed to fade from her vision, and a great darkness to envelop her.

Mrs. Farnum thought she was going to faint; but the weakness passed, and then she arose in all the majesty of her terrible agony and righteous indignation.

“Madam,” she began, standing straight and proud before the astonished woman, “If what you have told me is true; if Sir William Heath has been engaged to Margaret Stanhope for years; if he has pretended to marry her since his return to England, then the greatest wrong that ever was perpetrated has been done, and he has made a dupe of her and—­broken my heart.  As sure as there is a just God, I am Sir William Heath’s lawful wife, and He will vindicate me.  My child is his daughter, and the heiress of Heathdale, and Margaret Stanhope has been shamefully betrayed.  I shall never allow such a crime to prevail.  I shall sail for Liverpool on the very next steamer, to expose this villainy and to assert my legal rights and my daughter’s claim to her position as a Heath of Heathdale.  She, at least, shall not suffer dishonor, if the lives of two women have been ruined by the villainy of one man.  Did he suppose, because England is three thousand miles from America, that he could perpetrate this wrong with impunity?  I tell you it shall never be!  I will face him in the home of his unimpeachable ancestors, and see if he dares to repudiate his lawful wife!”