"Thanks," was the courteous response; "but I will not trespass upon your hospitality if you will kindly direct me to the inn of which you speak. The darkness came on so suddenly that I lost my way. I left Oreana at noon to go to Humboldt, but my horse sprained his foot on the rough mountain road, and I have had to come at a snail's pace ever since."
"You are sadly out of your way, indeed, if you are going to Humboldt, for it is a good ten miles from here. Come in—come in out of the pouring rain, and we will discuss what will be best for you to do," returned his host, in a hearty tone, for he was won by the man's frankness and courtesy.
The stranger stepped, dripping, into the hall, a tall, straight figure, booted and spurred, and enveloped in waterproof jacket, trousers, and havelock.
"Thanks," he said, "you are very kind; but allow me to introduce myself; my name is Heath—William Heath, at your service."
"Then, Mr. Heath, come to my fireside and dry and warm yourself; my name is Abbot and this is my daughter," replied Mr. Abbot, leading the way into the cheerful parlor whither Virgie had retired when her father opened the door to the benighted wayfarer.
Mr. Heath bowed with all the polish that could have been expected of him had he been in a royal drawing-room instead of a rude cottage in a ruder mining district of the mountains of Nevada, while his dark eyes flashed with a look of admiration over the perfect figure and into the lovely face of his host's daughter.
He removed his hat and havelock, revealing a grand head covered with waving brown hair, and a handsome face all aglow with intelligence. His eyes were a dark, wine-brown, his glance as keen and straight as an eagle's, his manner and bearing betraying that he was accustomed to mingle with people of culture and refinement.
Chapter II.
The Stranger Welcomed.
Virginia Abbot simply inclined her regal head in returning the stranger's greeting; then taking up her work again, she sat down by the table, with her back toward the fire and the newcomer. She had not failed to notice his look of surprised admiration when introduced to her, and it had affected her strangely.
Five years previous Mr. Abbot and his young daughter had come to that wild region entire strangers—the former, a man of gentlemanly bearing, somewhat past his prime; the latter a wondrously beautiful girl of fifteen, just budding into womanhood, and with a dignity of mien and refinement of speech which, together with her beauty, caused the uncouth inhabitants of the place to regard her with something of awe, and as if they thought she belonged to an entirely different sphere from them.