Still, there were a hundred “ifs” and possibilities in the way.  Virgie might not be able to get satisfactory proofs; the child might not live; she might not live herself to accomplish her object; and she finally resolved to try to be satisfied with the success of her plot thus far, and not trouble herself about future developments.  But that pale, beautiful face, with that resolute yet heart-broken look upon it, haunted her for years afterward.  She was deeply thankful that Sadie was not there to see it, and she was resolved that they should not meet again.

That evening Virgie was waited upon by the proprietor of the house, who, with much stammering and many apologies, informed her that he was obliged to request her to vacate the rooms that she was occupying.

She understood instantly, but her proud spirit rebelled against this last indignity, and she arose and stood before him in all the majesty of her insulted womanhood.

“Sir!  Mr. Eldridge! you will please explain this very extraordinary request,” she said, meeting his eyes with a steady glance.

Mr. Eldridge hemmed, looked embarrassed, and remarked with all the blandness he could assume: 

“Really, Mrs. ——­, madam, I regret to pain you, and it might be as well to avoid explanations.”

“No, sir; that is impossible; my husband left me here with the understanding that I should remain here until he came for me, and there must therefore be some very urgent reason for such a strange proceeding on your part.”

“Yes, madam,” said the man, driven to the wall. “—­I—­I have been informed that—­that you are not Mrs. Heath at all; that the gentleman who brought you here was not what he represented himself to be.”

“What authority have you for making such a statement Virgie demanded, haughtily: 

“This,” answered the hotel keeper, producing the paper containing the notice of the marriage at Heathdale which Mrs. Farnum had slyly laid upon his desk, with the marked paragraph uppermost.  She was very careful, however, not to appear in the matter to commit herself.

She had determined to get Virgie away before Sadie’s return from Coney Island, while she feared, too, the coming of Sir William to investigate the cause of his wife’s long silence.

One glance was sufficient to tell Virgie what paper it was, and she flushed to her brow.

“I see,” she said, scornfully, “those who have professed to be my friends are leagued against me.”

“But—­pardon me—­have you no doubts yourself regarding your position?” questioned the landlord, feeling a deep pity for the beautiful woman, in spite of his anxiety regarding the reputation of his house.

“None,” but the word came hoarsely from the now hueless lips.

“But you have had no letters for a long time; the gentleman has for years been engaged to an English lady; this paper gives a notice of his recent marriage to her, and everything goes to prove that you have been grossly deceived.  It is very unfortunate, but I have received notice from several of my guests that they will leave to-morrow morning unless I insist upon this change, and thus it becomes my painful duty to request these rooms to be vacated.”