er brother.

Three months passed and she had heard nothing from him. She began to feel
anxious as to how he had received the news of what Virgie was doing, when
there came another similar-looking document, bearing the same postmark as
before.

"The deed is done!" she cried, joyfully, the moment her eyes rested upon
it. "I do not even need to open this to be assured of the nature of its
contents."

She was filled with triumph over the success of all her plans thus far,
and yet she could not forget Virgie's threat that a day of retribution
would surely overtake their proud family.

But she determined not to worry, for the child might not live long enough
for her to carry her threat into execution. Virgie, herself, might die,
and a hundred other things might happen to prevent.

Her brother might never consent to marry again--she feared he would
not--and poor Sadie Farnum's reviving hopes would again be crushed; but,
if he did, she felt very sure that her son, Percy--and a noble young
fellow he was, too--would be very likely to inherit Heathdale, while
Lillian would doubtless receive a handsome dowry when she came to marry.

"I do not believe I will send this to William," she muttered, as she
turned that precious document over and over in her hands, and feasted her
eyes upon it. "I will at least wait until I hear something from him
regarding the other; these priceless papers might be lost on the way, and
then----"

Her musings were suddenly cut short by a violent ring at the hall bell.

She started, and sat erect to listen, her face growing pale and anxious,
for there seemed to be something ominous in that vigorous jangle which
went echoing through the house with such an imperious sound.

The night was raw and stormy; darkness had settled down over the country
earlier than usual; there had been a disagreeable chill in the air all
day, and a dismal sense of loneliness pervaded the mansion.

She heard the butler go to the door; then there was a sudden exclamation
of surprise, followed by a few indistinct sentences, a step, strangely
familiar, outside the library door, and the next moment Sir William,
gaunt, haggard, and wretched, staggered into the room where his sister was
sitting.

Chapter XXII.

Virgie Makes a Home for Herself.

"William," cried Lady Linton, springing excitedly to her feet, the
document which had caused her so much joy but a moment before dropping
unheeded on the table beside her.