"Poor child! brave little woman!" thought the man by her side, "it must have been very much like being buried alive, and she has borne it like a heroine; but she will not have to endure it much longer "for her father."
I wonder what will become of her when he is gone."
"Mr. Abbot seems very feeble," he said aloud, "do you not think a change would be beneficial to him?"
"I--do not know," Virgie began wistfully; then added, more to herself than to him, "Where could we go?"
"I would advise the sea-sh.o.r.e. I should think the salt air would do him good. Santa Cruz, Monterey, or any of those places on the California coast, would be both pleasant and healthful."
A startled look came into Virgie"s eyes, and her face grew pale.
She had often been to Santa Cruz and Monterey, in the old delightful days when her mother was living, where she had reigned like a little queen, and they had all been so happy, with no suspicion of the black shadow that was creeping upon them so surely.
"No, no, we could not go there; I--I do not believe that papa could be persuaded to leave home," she faltered with evident nervousness and embarra.s.sment.
"There is a sad history and a secret here," said Mr. Heath to himself, and he wondered more than ever what cruel misfortune could have driven these people thus into exile.
"Has Mr. Abbot ever consulted a physician?" he asked.
"No; there is no physician near us. But papa understands something of medicine himself," Virgie answered, sighing, for her heart was very heavy whenever she thought of her father"s condition, and it was evident to her that Mr. Heath considered him to be in a very critical state.
He saw that it troubled her to talk about it, and resolved that he would not refer to the subject again.
As they stood there the gorgeous tints faded out of the western sky, a purplish haze settled over mountain and valley, like a gauzy vail softening all their outlines, and a mist was beginning to rise from the depths below.
"The dew is falling, Miss Abbot. I fear you will take cold in this dampness. Shall I take you back now?" Mr. Heath asked.
"Yes. I think it will be hardly safe for us to linger longer," she replied. "But, Mr. Heath, be careful as you go down; the path is not altogether safe."
The young man laughed lightly.
"I have scaled greater heights, climbed steeper and more rugged paths than these, Miss Abbot," he said. "The Alps, the Pyrenees, the Caucasus, are all familiar ground, and this is but child"s play compared with them."
"Oh, then you have been in Europe?" Virgie cried, with animation.
"Yes, in almost every portion of it," he answered, watching her kindly face with admiration.
"How favored you are," she sighed wistfully. "I have longed with a mighty longing to visit foreign lands."
"Have you? Perhaps some time your wish may be gratified. I hope it may be," he returned, in an earnest tone. "Now give me your hand, and let me a.s.sist you down this slippery path."
"No, no. Please care for yourself, Mr. Heath, and let me follow you," the young girl pleaded. "I know every step of the way, and it is all strange to you."
But he stood still in the way, with his hand outstretched to her, resolute yet smiling. He would not yield his point, and without another word she laid her own within his, and together they went down the mountain path, he guiding her steps as carefully as if she had never been over the ground before, and she finding it very pleasant to be so shielded and attended.
When they reached more level ground he drew the hand he held within his arm, and they slowly wended their way back in the gloaming to the cottage, Virgie feeling strangely light-hearted and happy, and almost as if a new and beautiful life was about opening before her, while William Heath, with a twinkle of amus.e.m.e.nt in his fine eyes, wondered what his aristocratic mother and sister would say; what another brilliantly beautiful woman would think to see him thus playing the devoted cavalier to this simple and unpretending mountain maiden whom he thought so lovely.
He had at that moment in his pocket, letters from two of them, begging him to "quit his wanderings," to "come home and settle down to the real business of life. The property needed his care, and--Sadie had not been like herself since his departure."
These words came to him now, but they did not change in the least the purposes that were taking root in his mind--the determination to remain in that isolated hamlet as long as Virginia Abbot"s father should live.
Chapter V.
"Who Is He, and Why Is He Here?"
The next morning Mr. Abbot and his young guest visited the mine, and, after a thorough examination of the former"s claim, and inst.i.tuting some inquiries, more for form"s sake than anything else, regarding the wealth of the mine generally, Mr. Heath became the purchaser of Mr. Abbot"s property, and at once set about hiring competent miners to work it for him.
"It may prove but a foolish, quixotic undertaking after all," he told himself, when his negotiations were completed, "but I must have some excuse for remaining here. That girl is the most beautiful being I ever met. She has power to move me as I was never moved before. I simply cannot go away and leave her. I am sure her father can live but a little while, and then--"
What was to happen after Mr. Abbot should be taken away remained unsaid, and Mr. Heath walked on for a while with bent head and thoughtful brow.
He was looking about him a little to find a place in which to live while he should remain on the mountain, for he was resolved that he would trespa.s.s upon Mr. Abbot"s hospitality no longer than he was obliged to, although every hour in Virgie"s presence was perfect delight to him.
"I would give a good deal to know their history," he resumed, after a little. "It is the greatest mystery--their being here. The man shows culture and familiarity with men and things; he is unusually keen and shrewd in business matters, while the way he has managed his daughter"s education betrays the scholar and a mind of no ordinary power and ability; and to be here, working with the common herd in a mine! I do not understand it!"
While he was speculating thus regarding his new friends, Mr. Abbot and Virgie were engaged in the same manner with reference to him.
"Well, Virgie, I have sold my claim, and for a generous sum, too. Mr.
Heath is no haggler, and gave me my price without a demur; but I think that it is very queer that a young man of his stamp should care to engage in any such business."
"It is rather strange," Virgie admitted, absently.
"He is far above the people with whom he will come in contact," continued her father. "He has evidently been accustomed to the very best of society, is well educated and fine appearing, and seems to have an abundance of means. What do you make of him, dear?"
"I should say that he is very much of a gentleman, papa," replied the young girl, flushing, as she remembered their walk of the previous evening, the care and attention which he had bestowed upon her, and the delight which she had experienced in his presence.
"Yes, that goes without saying; but, does he seem like an American to you?"
"I had not given a thought to his nationality," Virgie answered, looking up curiously.
"Well, it strikes me that he may be English, although there is nothing in his speech or manner to betray it. He is built like an Englishman, and somehow the idea has taken possession of me that he belongs over the water, and so, his desire to settle here seems all the more incomprehensible."
"It may be a whim--a romantic desire to learn something of a miner"s life," observed Virgie; "or," with more animation, "he may be an author, papa, and is taking this way to study certain phases of character with reference to writing a book."
"Well, Virgie," said Mr. Abbot, smiling, "I must confess that is the most reasonable explanation that could suggest itself, and possibly, with your woman"s intuition, you have hit upon the right solution of the mystery.
Yes," after a thoughtful pause, "I shouldn"t wonder if you were right. His saying that he did not intend to work the mine himself goes to show that it is a secondary object, and he does not care particularly about the profit of it. He is very pleasant company. I believe his coming has done me good."
"I am sure it has," Virgie answered, brightly; "and papa, now that your mind is relieved of all pecuniary care, don"t you think you will continue to improve?"
"No, Virgie," her father returned, gravely; "do not allow my temporary improvement to deceive you. A fatal disease has fastened itself upon me, and I know that I have not long to live."
"Oh, papa!" exclaimed the lovely girl, sharply. "I will not believe it.
Pray, pray try what medical advice will do for you."
"Hush, my child," Mr. Abbot returned, deeply moved. "I did not mean to refer to this again, but you force me to do so; nothing short of a miracle could give me a sound pair of lungs again."