“But Sir William is a peer of the realm.”

“A peer!”

Mrs. Farnum actually cringed beneath the scorn that rang out in the young wife’s tone as she repeated these words: 

“And are peers of the realm exempt from all dishonor when they violate every law, both human and divine?” she continued, with stinging sarcasm.  “Does the code of your nobility provide that young and innocent girls, who are basely betrayed, shall sit tamely down and meekly bear their injuries, so that your peers of the realm can go unscathed?  If so, thank heaven that your laws do not prevail in this country.  You are yourself a mother—­you are proud of your beautiful daughter; but think you if she stood in my place you would advise her to consider the feelings of Sir William’s family, to ignore her rights, and shut her eyes to her own injuries, lest she cast a shadow of dishonor upon their proud escutcheon?  And do you think that I am less of a woman than she—­that I am devoid of fine sensibilities, of pride and self-respect?”

Mrs. Farnum had winced as under a lash during all this spirited speech.  Its scorn and sarcasm stung her keenly, and made her very angry.  She longed to revenge herself upon the proud girl who had presumed to rank herself along with her daughter, by proclaiming the secret regarding her life, which she had so cunningly learned in San Francisco.

But she feared to arouse her further.  She realized that she must seek to conciliate her, and try to persuade her not to take the mad journey to England which she seemed so bent upon.

“Oh, no, my poor child,” she began, soothingly; “you do not realize what you are saying.  Of course, I know it is all very wrong to deceive a girl in any such way, be she high or low, rich or poor.  But just consider how you are situated.  You say that your hus—­that Sir William has your marriage certificate, and you have nothing to prove your statements with, even if you should present yourself at Heathdale.  How do you suppose you would be received there if you should burst in upon them claiming to be Sir William’s wife and the mistress of Heathdale if you could not substantiate your statements?  My dear, it would be the blindest folly.”

“But I have his letters!” cried Virgie, eagerly.

“True, you have his letters, and no doubt his handwriting would be instantly recognized by his family, But they could not prove your position, especially if they are all written after the style of the one which you allowed me to read this afternoon, for in all those pages not once does he speak of you as his wife.  You must have something more tangible and conclusive than those,” Mrs. Farnum asserted, confidently.

All the light died out of Virgie’s face as she began to see that there were terrible difficulties in the way of proving that she was a lawfully wedded wife.

“I have my ring,” she said, weakly, and holding up the white, delicate hand on which the heavy circlet gleamed, guarded by a brilliant diamond, but which trembled like a reed shaken by the wind.