“Yes, darling. It is a romance in real life, is it not?—and one which will end more happily than such romances usually do,” was the smiling reply, although there were tears upon the grateful woman’s cheeks.
“That accounts for a great deal,” said Virgie, musingly.
“Such as what, for instance?”
“Your strange actions the other evening when Rupert told you who his guardian was.”
“Yes; I utterly lost my self-possession then. It was an unlooked-for shock, and I feared that matters were going to be terribly mixed when you came to marry Rupert. But, darling, we must not keep your father waiting; he is longing for you. Remember, he has never yet looked upon the face of his own child, to recognize her as such.”
“But, mamma,” Virgie began, a startling thought coming to her, “you are—you are not——”
Then she faltered and stopped, her face covered with confusion.
“‘I am, and I am not,’ is rather an ambiguous statement, is it not, dear?” was the arch retort, although her mother was also flushed as she caught her meaning. “I understand your trouble, dear,” she added, more gravely, “and everything is to be set right in a little while. This reunion will soon be properly solemnized, and then we shall all go home together. Now go, and I will follow you in a few minutes.”
She led the beautiful girl to the door, kissed her tenderly, and sent her to Sir William. Then she sped swiftly up to her own room, where, locking herself in, she fell upon her knees and sobbed out her grateful thanks for the great joy that had been sent to her that day.
Virgie, her heart all aglow with love and happiness, went straight to the library.