“Ah! So recently?” replied her companion, wondering why the beautiful woman should be so reserved. “Then you have had no opportunity to see the attractions of the place, and it is wonderful here. I have never seen anything so grand in all Europe as these mighty falls and the rapids.”
She was so sweet and gracious, and evidently so desirous of pleasing, that Virgie was seized with an impulse to show her the better side of her character. She felt sure that they would meet again some day when, perhaps, their relative positions might be reversed, and something like a feeling of pity for the lovely woman prompted her to put aside her pain, her jealousy and bitterness, and exert herself to be agreeable.
She responded cordially to the remarks she had just made relative to the scenery of that locality, and thus, once launched, she talked as she had never talked before—of nature, of art, of literature, of men, and things generally; and when, half an hour later, the two women separated, Mrs. Heath was fascinated, almost enraptured.
“I have never met any one so brilliant or beautiful before,” she murmured to herself, as she went to call her boy from his play, remarking that he must bid his little friend “good-by, since papa had decided that they were to leave directly after dinner.”
Several hours later, as the twilight had begun to deepen, Virgie, weak and pale from the excitement of the day, sat upon the balcony opening from her room, eagerly watching a little scene below.
A carriage had just been driven to the door. Two large trunks were brought out from the hotel and strapped upon it, then a gentleman and a lady with a little boy and maid followed.
Virgie crouched down behind the railing and strained her eyes for a look at that tall, manly figure, firmly believing it to be Sir William Heath—her recreant husband.
He stood by the carriage door and assisted his wife to enter with affectionate care, seeing that she was perfectly comfortable before he attended to anything else; then he caught his boy in his arms, and with some playful remark, which the eager ear above could not catch, tossed him lightly in beside his mother. Then the maid was kindly assisted, after which he entered himself, and the travelers were driven away.
But Virgie, with all her anxiety to do so, had not been able to catch even one glimpse of that face. There was something familiar about the form, although it was somewhat stouter than Sir William had been ten years ago, while he had spoken so low that she could not tell whether it was the old loved voice or not; but as the carriage was whirled away in the growing dusk she felt a hundred-fold more desolate than ever before.
They were so happy, she so miserable! Why, oh, why must such things be?