Virgie's Inheritance

by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon

She watched at her window until he drove away, waving her handkerchief and throwing him a kiss as he passed from sight, then the pent-up grief of her heart found vent in a wild burst of tears such as she had not shed since the hour of her father's death.

But she would not indulge it long.

She had every comfort. Her rooms were cheerful and elegant; a motherly, middle-aged woman had been engaged to remain with her as companion and nurse during her husband's absence; she had an abundance of money at her command, and Dr. Knox had promised to look in upon her every day. Surely she had nothing to complain of, save the enforced separation from her dear one, and that would not be for long, she trusted.

The ninth day after the departure of Sir William there came a cablegram, telling of his safe arrival at Liverpool, and this, at his request, she immediately responded to, telling him that all was well with her.

The next steamer, she knew, would bring her a letter and after that she would hear from him every few days.

Sir William found his mother alive, but in a very low state; "she might rally, she might not," they told him; and, with a sigh of resignation, he could only wait and try to patiently adapt himself to circumstances.

Thus four weeks went by, and then, early one June morning, a message went flying through the depths of the ocean, telling that a tiny little maiden, with eyes and hair like her father's, but bidding fair to become the counterpart of her mother in form and features had come to Virgie the morning previous, and "all was well."

The fervent "thank God!" accompanied with something very like a sob, which burst from Sir William Heath's lips as he read this message, told how intense had been his anxiety during the weeks of his absence from his darling, and how great his relief at those favorable tidings.

He returned a message of love and congratulation, and when, a little later, there came a letter to the happy young mother, it begged that their little one should be called "Virgie May," the latter name being that of a dear sister of whom Sir Will had been very fond, and who had died several years previous.

And thus the little heiress of Heathdale was christened by her mother.