“I am afraid she does,” was the sober response.
“Poor child,” sighed Virgie, regretfully, “and I am really sorry for Lady Linton’s disappointment.”
“Can you so readily forgive my sister, Virgie?”
“I believe I can, Will; I truly desire the spirit of forgiveness even for the great wrong that she has been guilty of; and, since nothing can ever again mar our trust in each other, I do not wish to cherish bitterness toward anyone. I am truly grieved for Lillian; she is not accountable for her mother’s faults, and I have suffered too much, in believing another had usurped my place in your heart, not to feel a deep sympathy for her in losing Rupert.”
Sir William sighed.
He regretted Lillian’s unhappiness too, for he was very fond of her. She was a bright, beautiful girl, and for years had been the light of his home; and he believed, away from her mother’s influence, she would make a noble woman. Still it was a matter for rejoicing with him that the young man whom he loved as a son would soon become a son indeed.
Virgie’s meeting with her father was quite touching. Her mother had never told her who he was. She had shrunk more and more from the ordeal as the time drew near when it must be revealed.
She had intended telling her the morning following Lady Dunforth’s reception when she had so unexpectedly learned that Sir William was Rupert’s guardian, and she would have done so but for Mr. Thurston’s visit, his startling revelation of her relationship to Lord Norton, and their sudden departure from London.
She was glad now that she had delayed the communication, for when she now made it, she could soften the otherwise shocking intelligence by telling her that all the past had been but a cruel mistake, which at last had been explained and rectified—that her father was a true and noble man.
Virgie came in from her walk just as her father and mother were speaking of Lillian.