piness.

She chatted socially for a while on various topics, but after a time laid
down her work, and taking up a book from a table near which she was
sitting, began carelessly turning over its pages.

"Jean Ingelow," she remarked, with a smile. "Are you fond of her poetry,
Mrs. Heath?"

"Yes," Virgie answered, "I think some of her poems are very sweet."

Mrs. Farnum glanced absently at two or three, then turned to the fly leaf
of the book, while Virgie's eyes mechanically followed her movements.

The name of William Heath was written there.

Mrs. Farnum looked up surprised, then smiled.

"Your husband's name is William?" she said, inquiringly

"Yes," Virgie returned, with a slight flush, while a pang shot through her
heart at the sound of the dear name.

"You must be very lonely to be separated from him for so long a time,"
said the woman, in a sympathetic tone.

"Indeed I am," said the young wife, with a long-drawn sigh which did not
escape her companion's notice, "but our separation is compulsory."

"Ah, he was away at the time of our arrival, was he not?"

"Yes, he was called to his home nearly three months ago by the illness of
his mother."

Mrs. Farnum assumed a look of surprise.

"And could not you accompany him?" she asked, as if she thought it very
strange that Virgie should not have done so.

"No, my physician would not allow me to travel; the summons came only a
short time before the birth of my baby, and he said a sea voyage could not
be thought of for me, so my husband was obliged to go without me."

"A sea voyage!" repeated Mrs. Farnum, with a start.

"Yes. My husband's home is in England," Virgie answered, flushing vividly.

A blank look came over Mrs. Farnum's face, then she assumed a grieved
expression.

"In England! and you never told us that you were our countrywoman, Mrs.
Heath!" she said, reproachfully.

"I am not. I am a native of California," Virgie explained with some
confusion; but I seldom speak of myself to strangers."

"With good reason, my pert young woman!" mentally retorted Mrs, Farnum,
for her companion's last words had been rather coldly uttered. Then she
said aloud, in a pitying tone:

"It must have been very trying for you to let your husband go on such a
journey without you?"

"Yes, indeed, it was," Virgie replied, with lips that quivered painfully;
"but, of course, I could not keep him from his dying mother."

"Was her condition so critical as that?"

"