"Then draw your chair closer, for not even Virgie knows the very worst, and I would not make her burden any heavier when there is no need."
The young baronet did as he was requested, but he looked both troubled and pale, for he knew not how this story might affect his future prospects. He was not different from his kind in some points; he belonged to an old and honored family; no shadow had ever tarnished their fair fame; he was proud and tenacious of honor, and his heart was heavy with apprehension as he thought that he might be about to hear some story of crime or wrong that would forever separate him from the woman whom he had learned to idolize.
Mr. Abbot leaned nearer his companion, and in a low voice gave him a brief and rapid account of his life and the adverse fate that had served to banish him to the sparsely populated mountains of Nevada. It was a strange, sad story of sin, and wrong, and shame, in which a complication of evidence and circumstances had permitted the real offender to escape justice and another to suffer the consequences of his crime.
Sir William Heath never once moved or spoke during its recital, but his fine face expressed pain, and sorrow, and sympathy throughout, and when at length it was finished he still sat for several minutes in his chair, exhausted and panting from weariness and excitement.
At last the young man turned to his companion, a great pity and tenderness shining in his fine, clear eyes.
"Mr. Abbot," he said, "you have told me one of the saddest stories that I have ever known, and I can find nothing but sympathy and regret for you in my heart. You have been but the victim of an atrocious wrong—no stain rests upon your character, if there appears to be upon your name, and so I ask you again, will you give me your daughter, if I find that I have been so fortunate as to have won her love? What you have related to me can never make any difference in my feelings toward her, and since I shall take her to another country, where nothing of this will ever be known or cast a shadow upon her future, as Lady Heath she will be honored and respected, and I trust, happy."
Tears welled up into the eyes of the invalid as he listened to the words of this true, earnest lover.
"God bless you for a noble, royal hearted man!" he exclaimed, reaching forward and clasping the young baronet's hand. "Yes, I can say God bless you now—for you have taught me to believe there is an Infinite Father and I can reverently invoke His benediction upon you. Of course I will give you Virgie and feel that she is richly blessed in having won such a husband and thus I can die with not a care upon my heart."
"You have given me the richest boon that it is in my power to crave," returned Sir William, his face kindling with happiness. "But you need not speak of dying. A sea voyage would prolong your life. Come with me at once to England and to Heathdale where you shall have every comfort and attention, and the change will do you good."
A sad smile flitted over Mr. Abbot's wan features.