Virgies Inheritance | Page 8

and even then if he is not satisfied to buy outright, he may work it upon shares until he is convinced of its value."
"That is fair, I am sure," said Mr. Heath.
"Perhaps you would like to take a look at it before you go?" suggested his host, who was eager to dispose of his property.
"I would, I assure you," was the reply; "but there is hardly time this morning, for I feel that I must join my party immediately, else they will be anxious regarding my safety. We are bound upon an excursion through the northern portion of the State, and intend to be absent a week or more; but after that, if you will permit me, I will return here and investigate matters--that is, if you will give me the refusal of the claim until then."
As the young man said this, his glance involuntarily wandered again to the beautiful face of Virgie.
There must have been something magnetic in his gaze, for she raised her white lids just then, and met the earnest, wistful look bent upon her.
A flush leaped to her cheek, and her violet eyes dropped instantly upon her plate again, while her heart fluttered like a caged wild bird.
"I will gladly wait your time, Mr. Heath," Mr. Abbot responded, in a satisfied tone. "I begin to think that your losing your way and falling to our care last evening was providential."
"I have no doubt of it, sir," was the grave and reverent reply. "I believe that all our ways are ordered for us; that everything is arranged for us by an All-wise Power."
Something very like a sneer curled the almost colorless lips of his host at this unexpected assertion.
Mr. Abbot was no believer in the individuality of God, and had spoken both lightly and at random when he had referred to the young man's visit as being providential.
"What do you mean by an All-wise Power?" he asked, skeptically.
"I mean God, sir."
"You believe there is a God, then?"
"Certainly; do you not?" and Mr. Heath's kind, grave eyes looked pityingly into the haggard, sunken face before him.
They seemed almost to say, "If you have not this belief to comfort you, with the hand of death laid upon your very heart, I grieve inexpressibly for you."
"If there is, I imagine He must allow Satan to have the control of some of our lives," was the evasive and bitter retort. "Virgie, Mr. Heath's cup is empty."
But his face flushed and his hands trembled as he thus abruptly turned the topic, showing how deeply the subject moved him; notwithstanding his pretended unbelief.
"Thanks; no more coffee for me," Mr. Heath said, with a smile and a bow to his young hostess, as she offered to replenish his cup; but he noticed that there was a troubled, anxious look in her eyes as they rested upon her father.
He made no reply to Mr. Abbot's remark, although he looked a trifle hurt.
He simply said, as he folded his napkin and pushed back his plate:
"I must ask you to excuse me and my lack of ceremony if I bid you good morning, and take French leave. I feel that I ought to get on my way as soon as possible; and believe me I am very grateful for your hospitality and courtesy."
Virgie arose as he spoke, and like the true little lady that she was, assured him that it had been a delight to entertain him, and she should look forward with pleasure to his return.
He thanked her, shook hands warmly with her, and then left the house, followed by Mr. Abbot, who watched him depart with a feeling of regret such as he had not experienced over any one during all the years of his exile.
Still he pleasantly anticipated his coming again, when he meant to make him remain several days.
He had been strangely attracted toward him from the moment when he had first heard his mellow, sympathetic tones, asking to be directed to a place of shelter. He knew that he possessed a grand character, for he carried the stamp of true nobility upon his frank, handsome face.
"That is a promising young man, Virgie," he said, as he returned to the parlor after watching the horse and its rider disappear down the mountain. "I should like to know where he came from, and more about him."
Virgie did not reply, but she turned away from the window where she, too, had been watching the receding horseman, with a shy, sweet smile on her red lips. William Heath's last glance had been for her, as he doffed his hat and bowed low in his saddle when he turned down the road.
During all the week that followed her step was lighter and her face brighter than its wont, and she went singing about the house to the