The polite hotel-keeper’s blandness all failed him for once, and, with much stammering and confusion, with many apologies and excuses, he confessed that there had arisen a rumor—­how he could not say—­to the effect that the lady was not Mrs. Heath at all, that her supposed husband was an English nobleman who had deceived her; that his patrons had insisted upon her leaving, or they would; and thus, after a hint from him as to how matters stood, she had quietly gone away.

Sir William was furious at this, and the landlord was actually frightened at the tempest his story had aroused.

“And you allowed such a malicious slander to drive a delicate and unprotected woman and her child homeless into the street?” cried the baronet, with sublime scorn.

“Ah, sir, I was helpless.  The honor of my house must be sustained, and there was so much evidence to make the story appear true,” said the man deprecatingly.

“Evidence!  What do you mean?” demanded the angry husband.

“You had registered as ‘Mr. Heath and lady.’  I learned that you were an English baronet.”

“Yes, but what of that?  I simply wished to escape being conspicuous, and I had a right to register as I chose.”

“Then there was a story that you had taken another wife in England, shortly after leaving America.”

“And were you idiot enough to believe such a contemptible slander, when I brought her here and established her as my honored wife?  Did I ever treat her with anything but reverence and respect?” thundered Sir William, growing more and more indignant.

“No, sir,” confessed the unhappy proprietor, as he drew a paper from his desk; “but when you read a notice that I have here you may not wonder so much at the credulity of people; besides, there were no letters coming from you to the lady.”

“No letters!” cried the baronet, in a startled tone.

“No, sir, although madam wrote to you with every steamer, and seemed sad and depressed to get nothing in return.”

The baronet was astounded.

It all looked as if there was some treachery at work to ruin their happiness; but Sir William racked his brain in vain to solve the riddle.

He had received no letters from his wife; she had had none from him; and, with that dreadful scandal and rumor to crush her, to say nothing of having been driven from the shelter with which he had provided her, what must she not have suffered?

“Will you read this notice, sir?” Mr. Eldridge asked, pushing the paper nearer to the baronet, and desiring to intrench himself behind as many bulwarks as possible.

Sir William bent forward and read it, and he did not wonder then, that Virgie had felt herself the most wronged of women.

He knew that it had been intended as the announcement of his cousin’s marriage with Margaret Stanhope, but a grave mistake had been made in prefixing the young man’s name with a title, thus making it appear that it was the baronet who had been married.