Life seemed to grow suddenly dark to him then, for he had been looking forward to this hour with a great deal of hope. It had been no light struggle for him to break away from the party at San Jose as he had done, and only a sense of honor and his own weakness had enabled him to do so.
He knew that he loved Virgie Alexander with the one strong passion of his life, and that if he had continued the journey with her he must have told her so. Mr. Knight’s conversation with him, however, had convinced him that this would be wrong, and so the only thing that remained for him was to get out of the way of temptation. But during all his journey he had looked forward to the day when, in her mother’s presence, he could honorably proclaim his affection, which only strengthened with every passing day, and win her for his wife.
He remained in New York for two or three weeks, hoping to learn something of either Mr. Knight or the Alexanders; but he failed to do so, and then turned his face in another direction, resolving to prolong his stay in America until fall, with the hope of finding Virgie, when he should again return to New York before sailing for England.
He spent the summer in visiting the New England States, the great lakes, and some portions of Canada. He saw much to interest him, but was conscious all the time of one intense longing, one unsatisfied desire, and it was with a feeling of relief that, at the beginning of October, he found himself once more in New York.
Sir William was very impatient for his return, and had written charging him to take passage as early as possible for home, for there was to be a great celebration at Heathdale on the twentieth of the month to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of an orphans’ home.
Consequently Rupert’s first duty was to engage his stateroom for his return voyage, the steamer advertising to sail on the eighth.
Then he again instituted inquiries for his friends, but none of them had yet returned, neither was he able to discover their summer resort, and thus the eighth of October came, and, with a sadder heart than he ever possessed, Rupert went on board the Cephalonia to return to his native land.
How many times Sir William Heath had turned his face homeward with just the same despair at his heart; the same moody brow, and pained, anxious face; the same intense longing for the woman whom he loved better than life itself!
But the end was not yet.