Virgies Inheritance | Page 6

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, and we can
arrange it very comfortably can we not, Virgie?" turning toward her.
"Yes, sir," was the low though unhesitating reply.
"But I am an entire stranger to you. How dare you take me into your
household? How do you know but that I am a robber or a brigand in

disguise?" queried Mr. Heath, with a twinkle in his fine eyes. But still
he was strongly tempted to accept the friendly offer, not only on
account of the comfort surrounding him, but because he was attracted
by the cultivated gentleman and his charming daughter, both of whom
were a great surprise to him, finding them as he had in that wild region.
"Nay," responded Mr. Abbot, smiling, yet meeting the frank eyes of his
guest steadily, "I think I can vouch for your character as a gentleman
even though you are an utter stranger. Remove your wet garments, I
pray, and make yourself comfortable for the night."
"But my horse," began Mr. Heath, suddenly bethinking himself of the
dripping and suffering animal.
"True. Pardon my thoughtlessness," returned his host, adding, "There is
a small shed attached to our dwelling where he can at least be sheltered.
Virgie, please go and send Chi Lu to assist Mr. Heath."
Virgie immediately arose and left the room, and soon after a diminutive
Chinaman appeared in the doorway, bearing a lighted lantern, and
signifying his readiness to "puttee up te hossee."
Mr. Heath left the house with him, and both were gone some time,
attending to the animal's injured leg and trying to make him as
comfortable as circumstances would allow.
During their absence Virgie, at the suggestion of her father, busied
herself in arranging a supper for the storm-beaten traveler, who upon
his return was greeted by the fumes of steaming coffee, while an
appetizing array of cold meats and other viands was spread upon the
table, which had been drawn up before the fire.
"I fear Miss Abbot is making herself trouble on my account," Mr.
Heath remarked, with a swift and grateful glance at the graceful form
and flushed face that was bending over the glowing coals, where the
young girl was toasting to a delicate brown a slice from a wheaten loaf.
"No, indeed; it is no trouble; and a meal after your long ride in the rain

will not come amiss," Virgie answered, looking up and meeting his fine
eyes for an instant.
She deposited the bread upon a plate, and inviting the young man to be
seated, poured with her own hands a cup of fragrant coffee, which she
placed before him.
She continued to wait upon him with exquisite ease and grace until his
hunger was appeased, which was not soon, for it was a rare pleasure for
him to watch her beautiful and expressive face while he chatted with
her father, sipped his coffee, and ate his toast.
But he finished at length, and then Chi Lu was summoned the table
cleared, and the room restored to its usual order.
Mr. Abbot seldom had met a real gentleman since coming among the
mountains; he had lived chiefly within himself and for his child. But
now he found that he had not lost all interest in the outside world, and
he enjoyed immensely Mr. Heath's account of his travels, and his
descriptions of men and things.
Virgie had not seen her father so bright and animated in all the five
years of their secluded life, and she began to hope that his fears
regarding his failing health were groundless after all. She, too, enjoyed
the young stranger's conversation, although she did not join in it. She
sat by, with her dainty embroidery in her hands, listening, and showing
by her expressive face and shining eyes how rare a pleasure such
congenial society was to her.
But by and by she stole away to her own room, where she lay far into
the night thinking of the handsome stranger--of his eager yet respectful
glances when he looked at her; of the low, rich cadence of his voice
when he spoke to her, and feeling that she should miss him more than
she had ever yet missed anyone during the last