“True.  When I think of that, I am heart-broken,” said Virgie, breaking down for a moment.  “He seemed so true and noble in every respect, and he was particular to have his title appear in the certificate, although he did not adopt it while traveling because he found he was less conspicuous as plain Mr. Heath.”

“It almost seems to me as if some plot had been laid to separate you,” said Mr. Knight, thoughtfully.

“Impossible!  How could such a thing be?” queried Virgie, skeptically.  “Who would plot against us?”

“Your letters on both sides may have been intercepted by some enemy with that end in view.”

“He has no enemy that I am aware of; neither have I. I did not know a single individual when I went to New York, so there was no one there who would be likely to meddle with our correspondence.  More than this, if he did not hear from me, and was true to me, or had possessed an atom of affection for his child, it is but natural to suppose that he would have taken prompt measures to ascertain what the trouble was.  No; the more I dwell upon it, the more I am convinced that what he has done was a scheme to secure my property, and then leave me to my fate.  I can think of no other object that he could have had.”

Alas!  Virgie realized long after how she had wronged a noble man with these dreadful suspicions, and even while she was giving utterance to them, her heart was heavy with a sense of injustice done the man whom, even then, she loved most fondly.

Mr. Knight shook his head in a doubtful manner at her last words, and yet he looked perplexed.

“You think I am too hard,” Virgie continued, bitterly “but does not even the provision which he made for me before leaving New York look as if he did not intend to return to me?”

“You refer to the five thousand dollars which he deposited for you; it was a very generous amount, truly.”

Of course I could not begin to use such a sum in the few weeks that he pretended he should be away; while the additional five hundred dollars which he sent me through his sister goes to prove that he had no intention of ever coming back to me, yet did not wish me to suffer for lack of means.”

“I do not like the aspect of that transaction at all,” responded Mr. Knight, emphatically.  “It looks to me as if his sister had had more to do with the matter than rightly belonged to her.  Who knows but what she may have been opposed to her brother’s marriage and has been at the bottom of all the trouble?” he concluded, reasoning with a shrewdness which he did not realize.

But Virgie could not be convinced.

“I do not believe that,” she said, with a sigh; “it looks to me as if he was ashamed—­conscience-smitten—­and did not have the moral courage to communicate with me himself.”

Yet, even as she said it, she knew that such a course was utterly at variance with his character, as she had known it.