CHAPTER XVII.SOME STARTLING DISCOVERIES.
Of course the attention of all centered at once upon Lady Linton, and Sir William’s interest in his beautiful but unknown daughter was, for the time, merged in his anxiety for his sister.
As it happened, there was no one else in the room just then, and Rupert and his guardian laid the apparently unconscious woman upon a lounge that was standing near, and immediately exerted themselves for her recovery.
Virgie, too, was very helpful, dipping her own dainty handkerchief into some water that Rupert brought, and bathing Lady Linton’s face with it, while she gave directions to Sir William about chafing her hands to assist in restoring circulation.
When the woman began to show signs of recovery and opened her eyes, she found herself looking directly into the face of the lovely girl whose presence there had caused her so much concern.
“Where is my brother?” she demanded, jerking her head away from the gentle hand that was ministering so tenderly to her.
“I am here, Miriam,” said Sir William, bending over her. “What shall I do for you?”
“Take me home,” she replied, with a shiver, as she glanced darkly at Virgie, who had drawn back and was standing beside Rupert.
“I will, as soon as you are able,” her brother replied.
“I am able now,” and she sat up with surprising energy for one who but a few moments before had appeared so seriously ill.
“Very well; I will attend you immediately,” Sir William responded; “but,” he added, as he regarded her anxiously, “what could have caused this sudden attack? I never knew you to faint before.”
A guilty stain shot for a moment into Lady Linton’s cheeks.
“I imagine the rooms are overheated, and I have not been quite myself this evening,” she said, which was true enough, for there had been a deadly sinking at her heart ever since her encounter with her brother’s former wife.
She glanced uneasily toward the door as she spoke, for she was in mortal terror lest she should chance to make her appearance there in search of her daughter, and she felt that she would rather drop dead, there at her brother’s feet, than to have those two, so long parted by her plotting, meet and become reconciled.
Her purpose now was to get him out of that house and away from London as soon as possible, and she resolved to stop at nothing to accomplish her object. It was a terrible blow to her to find that woman there. So many years had elapsed, during which she had kept silence, that she had grown to feel very secure in her position as mistress of her brother’s home, and she had fully expected that she would retain it as long as she should live, and had come to regard the threats which the injured wife had made in the past as so many idle words.
Life of late had looked brighter to her than at any previous time since her marriage. Percy had recently become engaged to a beautiful girl—one in every way worthy of him, and who, when she became his wife, would bring with her a noble dower; indeed, her father was so much pleased with his prospective son-in-law that he had himself proposed to relieve Linton Grange of all incumbrances, and thus all the burden entailed by his father’s profligacy would be lifted from the young lord’s shoulders.
Lillian’sdébutin society had been very brilliant; she was greatly admired and much sought after; so the mother’s cup of pride and joy in her children seemed to be full to the brim.
The only bitter drop in it was Lillian’s unrequited affection for Rupert, and Lady Linton had never relinquished the hope of succeeding in accomplishing even this marriage until after the young man’s return from America.
He had seemed very different since then; restless and preoccupied, but betraying at the same time an undercurrent of joy which told of some sweet hope cherished in his heart, the fulfillment of which he was eagerly awaiting.
His treatment of Lillian was courteous and respectful, but not calculated to inspire anyone with the belief that he regarded her with feelings of more than ordinary friendship, and thus Lady Linton had begun to fear that her favorite and his magnificent fortune were likely to slip from her grasp and become the prey of some more fortunate beauty and belle.
She had not, however, had a suspicion ofwhowas to be the favored maiden, until she came so suddenlyupon that group in the Japanese parlor, when she had taken in at a glance the mortifying and exasperating truth, and immediately she was wrought almost into a frenzy between anger and fear, and ready to adopt the most daring measures to protect herself from exposure.
But to return to the Japanese parlor.
Lady Linton arose as she replied to her brother’s questions, and signified her readiness to leave immediately.
“Wait a moment here,” he said, “while I go to make our excuses to Lady Dunforth and tell Lillian that we are going.”
“No—oh, do not leave me, William!” pleaded Lady Linton, growing frightfully pale again and trembling visibly; she would not trust him one moment in that drawing-room, lest he should meet Virginia Alexander. “I am afraid I shall have another fainting turn. Let Rupert see her ladyship. Will you?” she asked, turning to him.
“Certainly,” he answered, readily.
“Thank you. And now, William, if you will please ring for a servant to bring my wraps here. I do not feel equal to the effort of going for them.”
Sir William did as she requested, wondering to see her so unnerved. Nothing had ever seemed to unsettle her like this before.
“And, Rupert,” she continued, “won’t you be so good as to look after Lillian for the rest of the evening, and see that she gets home safely?”
“I will do anything you wish,” the young man returned, although he was not very well pleased with this latter commission, for he had anticipated a pleasantdrive and chat with Virgie, as it had been his intention to attend her home.
“I do particularly wish this,” Lady Linton said, with decision. “It would not be proper for Lillian to come by herself, and I do not quite like to alarm her or tear her away so early while she is enjoying herself so much. Ah! here come my wraps,” she concluded, with a sigh of relief, as a servant appeared with them.
She put them on with nervous haste, and then turning to her brother, said, almost peremptorily:
“Come, William, I am ready.”
“In one moment, Miriam.”
He had stepped back and was standing before Virgie, who, keenly sensitive regarding Lady Linton’s evident aversion to her, had withdrawn herself from her immediate presence.
He held out his hand to her, saying, as he smiled almost tenderly down on her upturned face:
“It has been a great pleasure to me to meet you. I trust we shall see each other again soon.”
“I think you will, Uncle Will,” Rupert interposed, in a tone that made his guardian turn and regard him searchingly, while he said to himself:
“I do believe the young scamp is in love with her. I would not wish a more charming little wife for him, but I am afraid it will be rather hard on Lillian.”
“Thank you, Sir William,” Virgie returned, and there was a slight tremor in her voice, for the presence of this man thrilled her strangely. “I am sure the pleasure has been mutual, and I should feel very sorry if I thought I should not meet you again.”
“William!” interrupted his sister, impatiently; and giving the soft hand he was holding a last, lingeringpressure, the baronet turned away, with a sigh, and attended his sister to her carriage, while Rupert took Virgie to the drawing-room, where he sought Lillian, to inform her of her mother’s sudden indisposition and departure.
An hour later Mrs. Alexander and Virgie retired, for the former was not strong yet, and therefore unequal to very much dissipation.
Rupert attended them to their carriage, but just as they were about to enter it an elegant coupe drew up beside it, and Mrs. Alexander’s attention was instantly attracted by a device that was emblazoned upon one of its panels.
She stopped with her foot upon the step, and turned for a nearer view.
A startled, surprised look came into her face.
The coat of arms represented a patriarchal cross, while underneath it there were stamped the words, “Droit et Loyal.”
“Whose carriage is that?” Mrs. Alexander asked of Rupert.
He glanced in the direction indicated.
“That is Lady Linton’s,” he replied; “she has sent it back for Lillian.”
“Lady Linton’s!” repeated Mrs. Alexander, with a start, while she thought it a little strange that he should speak so familiarly of her daughter and be so well informed of the lady’s movements.
“Yes; Sir William Heath, her brother, presented both carriage and horses to her for her individual use one Christmas,” Rupert explained.
“And what is that device upon the panel of the carriage door?”
“It is the Linton coat of arms.”
“The Linton coat of arms! You seem to know the family well, Mr. Hamilton.”
“And why should I not?” Rupert returned, smiling. “I have made my home with them during the last ten or twelve years. William Heath is my guardian.”
“What?” cried his listener, sharply.
“Have I not told you before?” Rupert asked, looking up in surprise at her tone. “You must pardon me, Mrs. Alexander, for being so negligent; but surely, I thought I had informed you of the fact.”
Mrs. Alexander clutched at the carriage door for support, and for a moment thought she must fall to the ground; two such startling discoveries as she had just made were sufficient to make her heart stand still and her blood run cold, and she scarcely had strength to move.
Rupert Hamilton Sir William Heath’s ward?
It was a strange fate that had decreed that her daughter and his should become thefiancéeof the young man he had reared.
She was aghast; her brain reeled and she stumbled into the carriage and sank weakly upon the seat, anxious to be gone, to be alone, and think it all out by herself.
Her face was deathly in its paleness, and Rupert, though he wondered at her strange behavior, so at variance with her usual courtesy, feared that she was displeased with him for his negligence.
“Am I forgiven?” he asked, smilingly, as he leaned in to tuck the robes about them.
His question brought the stricken woman somewhat to herself, and she replied:
“There is nothing to forgive, Mr. Hamilton. Of course, it was an oversight, your not mentioning that Sir William Heath was your guardian. Did Virgie know?”
“Yes, mamma. Rupert introduced me to him to-night as his best friend; but he had told me before, and I thought you knew,” said the young girl, marveling at her mother’s strange emotion.
“Introduced him to you to-night! Was he here?” cried the woman, with a gasp and a sense of suffocation.
“Yes. But, mamma, how strangely you act! Are you ill?” Virgie inquired, noticing, with increasing alarm, her mother’s pale face and uncontrollable agitation.
“No—yes. Let me get home as soon as we can—I believe I am not well,” and she sank weakly back among the cushions, almost panting for breath.
“Shall I come, too? Will you need me?” Rupert asked, anxiously.
“No, thank you,” Mrs. Alexander answered, with a great effort. “It is not far—we shall soon be there—good-night!”
The young man would gladly have gone, but her tone was decisive, and he turned back into the mansion, as the carriage drove away, greatly puzzled by her strange manner, and at the way she had spoken of his guardian.
Mrs. Alexander scarcely spoke all the way home, and insisted upon going directly to her room alone, although Virgie begged to be allowed to do something for her—to stay with her during the night.
“All that I need is rest and quiet,” she said. “Good-night my darling!”
She kissed her tenderly, wondering, with a terrible heart-pang, how she could ever tell her that her lover’s guardian was her own father—the man who had so cruelly wronged his wife and child more than eighteen years ago.
Once in the room, without even stopping to remove her wraps, she went to her writing-desk, drew forth a package from a drawer in it, and took it to the light for examination.
It was the mysterious package which her uncle, Mark Alexander, had confided to her on his death-bed, charging her to return it to the owner should she ever discover who that person was.
She had discovered that night to whom it belonged.
She held the seal close to the candle, and gazed upon it with darkening eyes and sternly compressed lips. It was stamped with a shield bearing a patriarchal cross, and under it was the motto, “Droit et Loyal.”
“How strange!” she murmured. “It belongs to his sister—to that woman who mocked and scorned me; whom I saved from a dreadful death, and nursed through a critical illness! She must have been one of those women whom Uncle Mark heard conversing together that day in the hotel parlor here in London. How wonderful that anything belonging to her should have fallen into my hands! How wonderful everything is—Virgie’s betrothal to Rupert—her meeting with him to-night! How will it all end? To think that he was there, in the same house with me, this evening! I am really curious to know what this contains,”she continued, turning the package over and over, and regarding it with troubled eyes, while her thoughts were busy with the past.
“Well,” she concluded, after musing for several minutes, “it must be returned to its owner, I suppose. I promised, and I must fulfill my word. Yes,” lifting her head resolutely, “she shall have it on the day that my darling stands within her ancestral halls the acknowledged heiress of Heathdale, not before.”