Then there came a murmur of surprise from the opposite direction, and glancing toward the upper door, she saw Sir William standing there, smiling and looking the personification of joy, with a beautiful woman leaning upon his arm.
Lady Linton started eagerly forward to greet them, when, all at once, her heart bounded into her throat with suffocating force, a blur came before her eyes, her limbs trembled and almost sank beneath her.
What delusion was this—what trick of her fancy?
Was it a horrible nightmare, or had some sorceress suddenly bewitched her sight.
She covered her eyes with her hand for a moment, and then looked again.
No, it was no delusion—it was no trick; for just before her, looking like a queen in her rich robes, her face radiant with happiness as she leaned proudly upon her husband’s arm, she saw the woman who she had hated and wronged for long, long years; whom she had plotted to ruin and sweep from her path forever—Virginia Alexander! the chosen bride of her brother in his youth, and now, in spite of falsehood, calumny, treachery and even divorce, his happy wife, and the mistress of Heathdale!
She was clad in a reception robe of pale lavender velvet, simply piped with satin; it faultlessly fitted her perfect form, while its ample train, sweeping out behind her, made her stately figure seem more regal than usual. Diamonds of purest water sparkled in her ears, gleamed upon her bosom, and an exquisite crescent was fastened among the glossy coils of her still rich and abundant hair.
Never had she been more beautiful, even in her youth, than now, as she stood upon the threshold of her new home, where she was destined to reign for long years yet, an honored and idolized wife.
Happiness had done much for her during the last few weeks; her face had resumed its rounded outlines; a delicate bloom had come into her cheeks; her lips were like lines of brightest coral; her eyes brilliant with the exhilaration caused by the restoration of blissful hopes.
Just behind her, and now attended by Rupert Hamilton, was Virgie, inexpressibly lovely in cream-white silk, with no ornaments save a bunch of fragrant mignonette in her corsage; but, in the eyes of her lover, and to others gathered there, she seemed the fairest vision of youth that they had ever looked upon.