“My Dear Myra:—­You will be glad to learn that mamma is really better—­not, of course, as far on the road to convalescence as we could desire, but comfortable enough to have had the wedding take place as appointed It would have been too bad if it had to be postponed; so unlucky, you know.  We thought once that we should have to put it off indefinitely; but, as mamma could not bear the thought, and Sir Herbert consenting, provided there should be no excitement, we decided not to disarrange the long-talked-of plans.  Will and Margie both behaved beautifully, and declared they would cheerfully defer everything if mamma was likely to suffer from it; but it was very evident that their happiness was greatly augmented when told that it would not be necessary.  The wedding occurred on the 28th, in the Heath chapel.  It was, of course, very quiet and unassuming, though the bride was lovely in her robe of white satin, exquisitely decorated with Chantilly lace, and wreath of heath, which it has always been the custom for the brides of the house to wear.  William looked as noble as ever, and our good old rector made the service very impressive not forgetting to mention in his prayer, most touchingly, her who lay ill at home and could not grace with her presence the glad occasion.  There was a very quiet breakfast afterward at Mrs. Stanhope’s, after which Will and Margie came over for mamma’s congratulations and blessing.

“They are not going on a journey just now.  They will visit London for a few days, and then return here and remain at home for the present.  Will seems almost like a boy in his happiness, while Margie is sweeter and prettier than ever.  Of course we are all delighted, for we have always been so pleased at the prospect of the match, though I was afraid for a little while that something might happen.  I feared there had been some nonsense when William was in America for I came across the photograph of the loveliest face I ever saw, one day, while looking over and arranging his wardrobe after his return.  But the old saying proves true—­’All’s well that ends well,’ and I trust there is a brilliant future for the master of Heathdale.”

There was more pertaining to family matters, which Mrs. Farnum thought best to omit after stealing a look at Virgie.

Her face was frightful to behold, and for a moment the woman was positively alarmed at the result of her work.

She sat like a statue, scarce seeming to breathe; there was not the slightest color in her face or lips, and the expression of agony about her mouth reveiled something of the fearful suffering she was enduring, while there was a look in her eyes which her companion never forgot.

She did not move for several minutes after Mrs. Farnum ceased reading; it was as if she had suddenly been turned to stone, and was oblivious of everything.

Mrs. Farnum was awed by her appearance, and hardly dared to speak to her, lest, in breaking the spell, the girl should drop dead at her feet.