Virgies Inheritance | Page 5

and at last, at the time of the opening of our story, he felt that the time had come for him to give up labor and lay down all burdens, for he knew that his days were numbered.
The question of providing a home and protection for Virgie had long agitated his mind.
They had no relations or friends to whom he could confide her. There were reasons why he was unwilling to appoint a guardian and send her back to their former home, and so, at last, he resolved to commit her to the care of his early friend and college mate, Laurence Bancroft, a wealthy merchant of New York city.
But the matter was to be taken entirely out of his hands, and the beautiful girl's destiny settled in a way wholly unexpected by either father or daughter.
* * * * *
When Mr. Heath, the benighted and storm-delayed traveler, threw back his dripping coat, and seated himself at the invitation of his host, before the blazing fire, Mr. Abbot thought that he had seldom seen a more attractive young man.
He was apparently about twenty-five years of age. His dark eyer were full of intelligence, and fringed with long silken lashes. His features were clear cut, as if they had been chiseled in marble. A dark brown moustache shaded, but did not conceal, a sensitive mouth, from which there flashed the gleam of brilliant teeth whenever he spoke or smiled; his nose was well formed, and his smooth, rather massive chin betrayed strength of purpose and decision of character.
His address was very courteous, even fascinating, and his voice possessed a rich, mellow tone, with a sympathetic ring in it, to which it was a delight to listen, and which won at once upon the hearts and confidence of his entertainers.
"You are unfortunate to be obliged to traverse our rough mountain roads on such a night as this," Mr. Abbot observed, with a shiver, as he drew nearer the fire, and laid another heavy oaken stick across the glowing blaze.
"That is true, sir," responded his guest, yet the glance, which he involuntarily shot at Virgie, bending gracefully over her work, did not betray an overwhelming sense of his misfortune.
"I Am On My Way To Join A Party Of Sportsmen At Humboldt," He Continued. "I Was Detained At Virginia City Upon A Matter Of Business, And They Went On Before, Promising To Wait There For Me Until To-Morrow Evening."
"Are you traveling on horseback?" Mr. Abbot asked, with some surprise.
"No, sir; but the train on which I started met with an accident this morning, which was liable to detain it several hours, and being impatient of the delay, I procured a horse at Oreana, thinking I could easily reach Humboldt by evening, when I could return it by rail. But the unfortunate beast sprained his foot on a rolling stone, as I have already told you; the storm and darkness overtook me, I lost my way, and my courage was just about failing, when I espied the friendly lights of this settlement, and I resolved to stop at the first house I came to and ask where I could find shelter for the night."
Mr. Abbot had been studying the young man's face attentively during this explanation.
He liked his appearance exceedingly; his countenance was honest and true, his story straightforward and well told, and some unaccountable impulse prompted him to take measures to become better acquainted with him.
"If you are going to Humboldt, you should have taken the turn to your left five miles back on the mountain," he said. "It would be impossible for you to reach it to-night, even if you could be set right, for you would be sure to lose your way again in the darkness. The only public house--if you can call it such--in this region, is at least a mile from here, and far from inviting or comfortable at that; so allow me, Mr. Heath, to offer you the hospitality of our home for the night, and to-morrow you can start afresh and refreshed upon your way."
The young man looked up with a glance of surprise, while a quick flush mounted to his brow, at this unexpected and rather extraordinary offer, for he well knew that in a mining district all strangers are regarded with suspicion if not with positive dislike.
"Sir, you are very kind," he began, casting another glance toward the lovely maiden by the table, for he had seen her give a quick start at her father's invitation, "but I fear I should trespass beyond all bounds were I to accept your offer."
"No, indeed," returned Mr. Abbot, with more of eagerness in his manner than he was in the habit of betraying over anything. "I could not think of allowing you to go on in this driving storm,