CHAPTER XI.A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT.
It seemed very dull to Virgie for a while after the departure of Rupert, who had been a very lively and agreeable traveler; indeed, the whole company missed him; but Mr. Knight and his sister exerted themselves to fill the young man’s place as far as possible, and, with the memory of that last interview, and the hope of meeting him again in New York in the spring, Virgie resolved not to pine, and gave herself up to the hearty enjoyment of her sight-seeing and other pleasures of the journey.
The trip proved to be a most enjoyable one in every way, and when Virgie returned to her mother, in March, looking rosy and happy, and full of life and enthusiasm over what she had recently seen, Mrs. Alexander felt well repaid for the loneliness she had experienced during this, their first separation.
Mr. Knight told her confidentially of Rupert Hamilton and his evident admiration for her charming daughter, and warned her that she might look for the young man’s return about the first or middle of May.
Mrs. Alexander was at first inclined to laugh over the romantic episode, until her friend mentioned that Rupert was an Englishman, whereupon she grew very grave and sad.
“I hope they will never meet again,” she said, sternly. “I do not want my child to marry an Englishman;it is enough that her mother’s heart was broken by one of that nationality.”
“Surely, my friend, you do not imagine that all Englishmen are knaves simply because one has proved himself such?” said Mr. Knight.
“I suppose I have no right to judge them so, yet I have a prejudice against them that I cannot overcome,” responded Mrs. Alexander, with a sigh. “I hope my darling, if she ever marries, will become the wife of a stanch American.”
“The young man is a noble specimen of his countrymen, I can assure you,” Mr. Knight answered, anxious to do Rupert justice. “I confess I should be rather proud of him for a son-in-law.”
Mrs. Alexander sighed heavily, and did not reply; but she secretly resolved that if it was in her power to prevent it, Virgie and her English admirer should never meet again.
April passed and May came, and Virgie began to grow expectant. She was blooming into brighter beauty with every day, and seemed to become more womanly, so that her mother felt, with something of sadness, that she no longer had her little girl, but a lovely and winsome maiden, who would doubtless soon be won from her sheltering care to grace the home of another.
She had been a beautiful child, but she was far lovelier now, possessing her mother’s refined and delicate features and graceful figure, while her eyes were so like her father’s that her mother often suffered keenest pain as she looked into them, and seemed to be gazing again through them into the heart of the man whom she had loved so fondly in her youth.
Of late she had pined anew for the affection which had guarded her so tenderly in those early years.
Perhaps it was because her health had not been as firm as usual during the last few months. She felt weary and depressed. She longed for some one to lean upon—some one strong and true to shield her from the cares and worry of life.
Every day, during the first two weeks of May, Virgie watched for the coming of Rupert Hamilton.
She knew that he expected to return to New York about this time, and she felt sure that he would seek her at once, while she believed that his coming would mean a great deal to her. There was an eager, expectant look on her young face, a deeper flush in her cheeks, a bright and hopeful light in her eyes.
Mrs. Alexander read the signs of the time well, and realized that the hour for her to act had come.
The warm weather was very enervating to her. She drooped visibly, and calling her physician she asked his advice regarding some change of residence.
He advised her to leave the city immediately; to go to some quiet country place where she could have pure air, fresh, rich milk, and a nourishing diet.
Consequently she decided to seek a lovely place on the Hudson, where she had spent a summer several years previous, and where she could be as quiet as she chose, and rest the livelong day if she wished.
Miss Knight decided to accompany her, for her brother feared that the woman whom he still regarded with far more than mere friendly feelings, was more frail than she acknowledged herself to be, and he thought she ought to have some one more experiencedthan Virgie with her in the event of any more serious illness.
Mr. Knight himself was contemplating a trip through the New England States, but promised to join them and spend the remainder of the summer with them upon his return.
Poor Virgie was made very unhappy upon learning of these plans, for it destroyed her hope of meeting Rupert Hamilton, who, she believed, was even now upon his way back to New York.
She did not, however, pose a single objection to her mother’s plans, for the doctor had said her health demanded an immediate change, and she was not selfish enough to wish to delay a single hour, even though her going might blight the fondest hopes of her life.
But she could not deceive the keen eyes of love, and Mrs. Alexander was quick to note her paling cheek, the thoughtful, wistful look upon her hitherto bright face, and she realized with a bitter pang that already her darling’s heart had responded to a stronger affection than hers.
But it made her all the more eager to hasten her departure, and on the fifteenth of May they left New York for their summer home upon the Hudson.
Thus it will be seen that Rupert, who arrived in New York only a few days later, missed them, and was cut off entirely from all communication with Virgie.
He sought Mr. Knight upon the very day of his arrival, but was greatly disappointed to learn that he had left the city. He then repaired to the address which he had given him, hoping to find Virgie, but the house was closed; and though he inquired at one ortwo places, no one could tell whither Mrs. Alexander and her daughter had gone.
Life seemed to grow suddenly dark to him then, for he had been looking forward to this hour with a great deal of hope. It had been no light struggle for him to break away from the party at San Jose as he had done, and only a sense of honor and his own weakness had enabled him to do so.
He knew that he loved Virgie Alexander with the one strong passion of his life, and that if he had continued the journey with her he must have told her so. Mr. Knight’s conversation with him, however, had convinced him that this would be wrong, and so the only thing that remained for him was to get out of the way of temptation. But during all his journey he had looked forward to the day when, in her mother’s presence, he could honorably proclaim his affection, which only strengthened with every passing day, and win her for his wife.
He remained in New York for two or three weeks, hoping to learn something of either Mr. Knight or the Alexanders; but he failed to do so, and then turned his face in another direction, resolving to prolong his stay in America until fall, with the hope of finding Virgie, when he should again return to New York before sailing for England.
He spent the summer in visiting the New England States, the great lakes, and some portions of Canada. He saw much to interest him, but was conscious all the time of one intense longing, one unsatisfied desire, and it was with a feeling of relief that, at the beginning of October, he found himself once more in New York.
Sir William was very impatient for his return, and had written charging him to take passage as early as possible for home, for there was to be a great celebration at Heathdale on the twentieth of the month to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of an orphans’ home.
Consequently Rupert’s first duty was to engage his stateroom for his return voyage, the steamer advertising to sail on the eighth.
Then he again instituted inquiries for his friends, but none of them had yet returned, neither was he able to discover their summer resort, and thus the eighth of October came, and, with a sadder heart than he ever possessed, Rupert went on board the Cephalonia to return to his native land.
How many times Sir William Heath had turned his face homeward with just the same despair at his heart; the same moody brow, and pained, anxious face; the same intense longing for the woman whom he loved better than life itself!
But the end was not yet.