Virgies Inheritance | Page 3

best gift--the love of some true man comes to you, and you have a home of your own. New York is almost on the other side of the world, and no evil breath of the past will be likely to touch you there. What do you say, Virgie?--may I write to my friend, giving you to his care?"
"Yes, papa," Virgie said, wearily assenting to his project, more to put an end to the painful conversation than because she had any choice in the matter, "you may do whatever your judgment tells you is best, and I will be guided entirely by your wishes."
Mr. Abbot looked intensely relieved.
This question had troubled him for many months, and he had always shrunk from speaking of it, because of the pain which he knew it would inflict. With this vital matter settled, he felt that he could give up all care, and spend the few remaining days of his life in peace with his idolized child, and calmly await the end, which he knew was so near.
"That is right, dear," he said, with a contented smile. "I am greatly comforted. I will write a full account of everything, together with my wishes for your future, and it will be ready to be sent to Mr. Bancroft at a moment's warning. I do not care to have him know anything about us just yet; hark! what was that?" he broke off abruptly, and started into a listening attitude.
"Only the wind and the storm beating against the house, I think," answered Virgie, lifting her head, and calmed for the moment as she, too, listened to what had seemed an unusual noise.
"It is a wild night, my child. I hope no one is homeless in this storm," said Mr. Abbot. "I am thankful for this peaceful, though humble refuge, after the turmoil and wrong of a few years ago, only it is hard for you to be so shut away and isolated from those of your own age. But surely that was a knock, Virgie."
The young girl started to her feet as a loud and imperative rap echoed through the small entry outside the parlor.
It was seldom that they were disturbed at that hour of the evening, for among the hard working people of the mining district in which they lived, there were few who were not early wrapped in slumber after the labors of the day.
Virgie passed quickly out of the cheerful parlor into the tiny hall, and opened the outer door, though the heavy burglar chain was fastened and would admit of its being opened but a little ways.
"Who is there?" she asked, in her clear, sweet tones.
"A stranger who has lost his way and seeks direction to the nearest public inn," answered a rich, mellow voice from without.
Mr. Abbot now came out, a heavy shawl wrapped about his shoulders to shield him from the dampness.
"It is more than a mile from here, and a very poor place at that," he said.
The stranger outside gave a low whistle of dismay at this information, and muttered something about being in "a very uncomfortable fix."
Mr. Abbot unfastened the chain, threw wide the door, and invited the unknown to come in out of the storm.
"Thanks," was the courteous response; "but I will not trespass upon your hospitality if you will kindly direct me to the inn of which you speak. The darkness came on so suddenly that I lost my way. I left Oreana at noon to go to Humboldt, but my horse sprained his foot on the rough mountain road, and I have had to come at a snail's pace ever since."
"You are sadly out of your way, indeed, if you are going to Humboldt, for it is a good ten miles from here. Come in--come in out of the pouring rain, and we will discuss what will be best for you to do," returned his host, in a hearty tone, for he was won by the man's frankness and courtesy.
The stranger stepped, dripping, into the hall, a tall, straight figure, booted and spurred, and enveloped in waterproof jacket, trousers, and havelock.
"Thanks," he said, "you are very kind; but allow me to introduce myself; my name is Heath--William Heath, at your service."
"Then, Mr. Heath, come to my fireside and dry and warm yourself; my name is Abbot and this is my daughter," replied Mr. Abbot, leading the way into the cheerful parlor whither Virgie had retired when her father opened the door to the benighted wayfarer.
Mr. Heath bowed with all the polish that could have been expected of him had he been in a royal drawing-room instead of a rude cottage in a ruder mining district of the mountains of Nevada, while his dark eyes flashed with a look of admiration over the perfect figure and into