She had determined to get Virgie away before Sadie's return from Coney Island, while she feared, too, the coming of Sir William to investigate the cause of his wife's long silence.
One glance was sufficient to tell Virgie what paper it was, and she flushed to her brow.
"I see," she said, scornfully, "those who have professed to be my friends are leagued against me."
"But—pardon me—have you no doubts yourself regarding your position?" questioned the landlord, feeling a deep pity for the beautiful woman, in spite of his anxiety regarding the reputation of his house.
"None," but the word came hoarsely from the now hueless lips.
"But you have had no letters for a long time; the gentleman has for years been engaged to an English lady; this paper gives a notice of his recent marriage to her, and everything goes to prove that you have been grossly deceived. It is very unfortunate, but I have received notice from several of my guests that they will leave to-morrow morning unless I insist upon this change, and thus it becomes my painful duty to request these rooms to be vacated."
This was a bitter blow to add to all the rest, but Virgie, conscious of her own purity, bore it with Spartan-like heroism.
She cast one look of scorn upon the man before her, then said, with a calmness that was born of despair:
"Sir, I still assert, in the face of all that you have just said, that I am the wife of Mr.—yes, of Sir William Heath, of Heathdale, Hampshire County, England and some day it will be in my power to prove to you the truth of my words; but I have no wish to occasion you either trouble or loss, so I will go away; to-morrow morning."
The landlord looked greatly relieved at this assurance and yet he was impressed both by her manner and her words.