“Is it marked with the date of your marriage?” inquired Mrs. Farnum, an anxious gleam in her eye as it rested upon that symbol of wifehood.

“N-o; it was thoughtlessly neglected at the time, because there were so many other things to be attended to, and—­and I could not bear to have it taken off to rectify the oversight, after it was once put upon my hand,” Virgie confessed, growing white again even to her lips.

“That was unwise, not to say foolish of you,” said Mrs. Farnum, deprecatingly, but with a throb of exultation.

“But,” added Virgie, after thinking a moment, “he brought me here as his wife.  The proprietor of this hotel will tell you so.  Dr. Knox, my physician, will tell you so also, as I was introduced to him by my husband as Mrs. Heath; and there are other people in the house who know it.”

Mrs. Farnum smiled pitifully.

“My dear,” she said, gravely, “how many of these people do you think would be willing to swear that you are Sir William Heath’s wife, if you should ask them to do so?  How many would put their names to a paper certifying their honest conviction that you are, if told the title and position he occupies in his own country and your history in this?”

Virgie started at these words, and would have asked the woman what she knew of her history, but she went on as if she had not remarked her emotion: 

“If Sir William had brought you here as Lady Heath, registered himself in his own proper character, and taken you into society thus, there would have been no room for doubt.  But instead, what has he done?  It is very strange that your own suspicions have not been aroused by his actions.  He has registered everywhere as plain ‘William Heath and lady.’  Instead of going to the public table, as most of the guests are in the habit of doing, he has paid extra rates to have your meals served in your own rooms, and kept you secluded from almost every one.  What construction do you suppose would be put upon these facts, if they were submitted to people generally, if——­”

“But, Mrs. Farnum, all this was done out of regard for my feelings.  I told you that we did not wish to be conspicuous while traveling, so my husband dropped his title.  I could not go into society here, and I did not like to go to the public table where I should be—­obliged to meet so many strangers,” Virgie interrupted, a hot flush rising to her brow, while there was a weary, hunted look, in her eyes as the cunning woman continued to weave her tangled web about her.

“Of course, I can understand all that,” replied Mrs. Farnum, indulgently, “but how would it appear as evidence if brought up in connection with your efforts to prove yourself a lawful wife?”

Virgie’s heart sank.

Turned which way she would, everything, as argued and distorted by her companion, appeared against her, and for a moment it seemed as if her spirit was crushed within her.