Transcriber's Note:

 The Table of Contents is not part of the original book. 

 THE MASKED

 BRIDAL

 _By_ MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON

 AUTHOR OF

 "Edrie's Legacy, " "Max, " "Faithful Shirley, " "Marguerites Heritage, " "A True Aristocrat, " etc. 

 A. L. BURT COMPANY

 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

 Copyright 1894, 1895, 1900

 BY STREET & SMITH

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 Contents

 Page PROLOGUE. 3 I TWO UNEXPECTED VISITORS. 5 II A STANCH FRIEND MAKES A VAIN APPEAL. 11 III THE YOUNG LAWYER EXPERIENCES TWO EXTRAORDINARY SURPRISES. 16 IV A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 20 V A MOTHER'S LAST REQUEST. 26 VI A HERITAGE OF SHAME. 30 VII TWO NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 36 VIII THE VENOM OF JEALOUSY. 43 IX THE HOUSEKEEPER AT WYOMING. 50 X "THE GIRL IS DOOMED! SHE HAS SEALED HER OWN FATE!" 58 XI "NOW MY VINDICATION AND TRIUMPH WILL BE COMPLETE!" 65 XII THE MASKED BRIDAL. 71 XIII THE DASTARDLY PLOT IS REVEALED. 79 XIV "YOUR FAITHLESSNESS TURNED ME INTO A DEMON. " 88 XV "OH, GOD! I KNEW IT! YOU ARE ISABEL!" 95 XVI "YOU SHALL NEVER WANT FOR A FRIEND. " 104 XVII "WOULD YOU DARE BE FALSE TO ME, AFTER ALL THESE YEARS?" 111 XVIII "I SHALL NEVER FORGIVE EITHER OF YOU FOR YOUR SIN AGAINST ME. " 119 XIX "I WILL NEVER BREAK BREAD WITH YOU, AT ANY TABLE. " 128 XX EDITH RESOLVES TO MEET HER ENEMIES WITH THEIR OWN WEAPONS. 137 XXI A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER PAYS EDITH AN UNEXPECTED VISIT. 146 XXII "I WILL RISE ABOVE MY SIN AND SHAME!" 154 XXIII A SURPRISE AT THE GRAND CENTRAL STATION. 164 XXIV A SAD STORY DISCLOSED TO AN EAGER LISTENER. 173 XXV A NEW CHARACTER IS INTRODUCED. 181 XXVI AN EXCITING INTERVIEW AND AN APPALLING DISCOVERY. 189 XXVII MRS. GODDARD BECOMES AN EAVESDROPPER. 199 XXVIII ISABEL STEWART ASTOUNDS MR. GODDARD. 208 XXIX "OUR WAYS PART HERE, NEVER TO CROSS AGAIN. " 217 XXX "I HATE YOU WITH ALL THE STRENGTH OF MY ITALIAN BLOOD. " 226 XXXI RECORDS SOME STARTLING DEVELOPMENTS. 234 XXXII "YOU WILL VACATE THESE PREMISES AT YOUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE. " 242 XXXIII MR. BRYANT MEETS WITH UNEXPECTED DIFFICULTIES. 250 XXXIV AN UNEXPECTED MEETING RESULTS IN A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY. 259 XXV "THAT MAN MY FATHER!" 268 XXXVI FURTHER EXPLANATIONS BETWEEN MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 276 XXXVII "MY DARLING, YOU ARE FREE!" 285XXXVIII AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 292 XXXIX CONCLUSION. 298

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THE MASKED BRIDAL. 

PROLOGUE. 

The most important and the most sacred event in a woman's life is hermarriage. It should never be lightly considered, no matter what may bethe allurement--honor, wealth, social position. To play at marriage, even for a plausible pretext, is likely to be very imprudent, and mayprove a sin against both God and man. 

The story we are about to tell chiefly concerns a refined andbeautiful girl who, for the ostensible entertainment of a number ofguests, agreed to represent a bride in a play. 

The chief actors, just for the sake of illustrating a novel situation, and perhaps to excite curiosity among the spectators, were to havetheir faces concealed--it was to be a masked bridal. 

Already the guests are assembled, and, amid slow and solemn music, theprincipals take their places. 

The clergyman, enacted by a gentleman who performs his part withprofessional gravity and impressive effect, utters the solemn wordscalling for "any one who could show just cause why the two before himshould not be joined in holy wedlock, to speak, or forever hold hispeace. "

At the sound of these words, the bride visibly shudders; but as she ismasked, it can only be inferred that her features must indicate herintense emotion. 

But why should she exhibit emotion in such a scene? Is it not a play?She cannot be a clever actress when she forgets, at such a time, thatit is the part of a bride--a willing bride--to appear supremely happyon such a joyous occasion. 

It is strange, too, that as the bride shudders, the bridegroom's handcompresses hers with a sudden vigorous clutch, as if he feared to loseher, even at that moment. 

Was it merely acting? Was this "stage business" really in the play? Orwas it a little touch of nature, which could not be suppressed by thestage training of those inexperienced actors?

The play goes on; the entranced spectators are now all aroused fromthe apathy with which some of them had contemplated the opening partof the remarkable ceremony. 

As the groom proceeds to place the ring upon the finger of the bride, she involuntarily resists, and tries to withdraw her hand from theclasp of her companion. There is an embarrassing pause, and for aninstant she appears about to succumb to a feeling of deadly faintness. 

She rouses herself, however, determined to go on with her part. 

Every movement is closely watched by one of the witnesses--a womanwith glittering eye and pallid cheek. When the bride's repugnanceseemed about to overmaster her, and perhaps result in a swoon, thiswoman gave utterance to a sigh almost of despair and with pantingbreath and steadfast gaze anxiously watched and waited for the end ofthe exciting drama. 

The grave clergyman notices the bride's heroic efforts to restrain heragitation, and the ceremony proceeds. At length the solemn sentence isuttered which proclaims the masked couple man and wife. 

Then there is a great surprise for the spectators. 

As they behold the bride and groom, now unmasked, there is a stare ofwonder in every face, and expressions of intense amazement are heardon all sides. 

Then it dawns upon the witnesses that the principal actors in the playare not the persons first chosen to represent the parts of the brideand groom. 

Why was a change made? What means the unannounced substitution ofother actors in the exciting play?

Ask the woman who caused the change--the woman who, with pallid cheekand glittering eye, had intently watched every movement of theapparently reluctant bride, evidently fearing the failure of the playupon which she had set her heart. 

It became painfully evident that the play was not ended yet, and somethere present had reason to believe that it was likely to end in atragedy. 

Now let us portray the events which preceded the masked bridal. 

CHAPTER I. 

TWO UNEXPECTED VISITORS. 

It was a cold, raw night in December, and the streets of New Yorkcity, despite their myriads of electric lights and gayly illuminatedshop windows, were dismal and forlorn beyond description. 

The sky was leaden. A piercing wind was blowing up from the EastRiver, and great flakes of snow were beginning to fall, when, out ofthe darkness of a side street, there came the slight, graceful figureof a young girl, who, crossing Broadway, glided into the glare of thegreat arclight that was stationed directly opposite a pawnbroker'sshop. 

She halted a moment just outside the door, one slender, shabbily-gloved hand resting irresolutely upon its polished knob, while an expression of mingled pain and disgust swept over her palebut singularly beautiful face. 

Presently, however, she straightened herself, and throwing up her headwith an air of resolution, she turned the knob, pushed open the door, and entered the shop. 

It was a large establishment of its kind, and upon every hand therewere indications that that relentless master, Poverty, had been verybusy about his work in the homes of the unfortunate, compelling hisvictims to sacrifice their dearest possessions to his avariciousgrasp. 

The young girl walked swiftly to the counter, behind which there stooda shrewd-faced Israelite, who was the only occupant of the place, andwhose keen black eyes glittered with mingled admiration and cupidityas they fastened themselves upon the lovely face before him. 

With an air of quiet dignity the girl lifted her glance to his, as sheproduced a ticket from the well-worn purse which she carried in herhand. 

"I have come, sir, to redeem the watch upon which you loaned me threedollars last week, " she remarked, as she laid the ticket upon thecounter before him. 

"Aha! an' so, miss, you vishes to redeem de vatch!" remarked the man, with a crafty smile, as he took up the ticket under pretense ofexamining it to make sure that it was the same that he had issued toher the week previous. 

"Yes, sir. "

"An' vat vill you redeem 'im mit?" he pursued, with a disagreeableleer. 

"With the same amount that you advanced me, of course, " gravelyresponded the girl. 

"Ah! ve vill zee--ve vill zee! Vhere ish de money?" and the manextended a huge soiled hand to her. 

"I have a five-dollar gold-piece here, " she returned, as she took itfrom her purse and deposited it also upon the counter; for she shrankfrom coming in contact with that repulsive, unwashed hand. 

The pawnbroker seized the coin greedily, his eyes gleaming hungrily atthe sight of the yellow gold, while he examined it carefully to assurehimself that it was genuine. 

"So! so! you vill vant de vatch, " he at length observed, in a sullentone, as if he did not relish the idea of returning the valuabletime-piece upon which he had advanced the paltry sum of three dollars. "Vell!" and irritably pulling out a drawer as he spoke, he dropped thecoin into it. "Ah!" he cried, with a sudden start and an angry frown, as it dropped with a ringing sound upon the wood, "vat you mean? Youwould sheat me!--you vould rob me! De money ish not goot--de coin ishcounterfeit! I vill send for de officer--you shall pe arrested--youvon little meek-faced robber! Ah!" he concluded, in a shrill tone ofwell-simulated anger, as he shook his fist menacingly before hiscompanion. 

The fair girl regarded him in frightened astonishment as he pouredforth this torrent of wrathful abuse upon her, while her beautifulblue eyes dilated and her delicate lips quivered with repressedexcitement. 

"I do not understand you!--what do you mean, sir?" she at lengthdemanded, when she could find voice for speech. 

"You play de innocence very vell!" he sneered; then added, gruffly:"You vill not get der vatch, for you haf prought me bad money. "

"You are mistaken, sir; I have just received that gold-piece from arespectable lawyer, for whom I have been working during the week, andI know he would not take advantage of me by paying me with counterfeitmoney, " the young girl explained; but she had, nevertheless, grownvery pale while speaking. 

"Ah! maybe not--maybe not, miss; not if he knew it, " said thepawnbroker, now adopting a wheedling and pitiful tone as he drew forththe shining piece and pushed it toward her. "Somebody may haf sheetedhim; but it haf not der true ring of gold, and you'll haf to bring meder t'ree dollars some oder time, miss. "

The girl's delicate face flushed, and tears sprang to her eyes. Shestood looking sadly down upon the money for a moment, then, with aweary sigh, replaced it in her purse, together with the ticket, andleft the shop without a word; while the tricky pawnbroker looked afterher, a smile of cunning triumph wreathing his coarse lips, as hegleefully washed his hands, behind the counter, with "invisible soapin imperceptible water. "

"Oh, mamma! poor mamma! what shall I do?" murmured the girl, with aheart-broken sob, as she stepped forth upon the street again. "I wasso happy to think I had earned enough to redeem your precious watch, and also get something nice and nourishing for your Sunday dinner; butnow--what can I do? Oh, it is dreadful to be so poor!"

Another sob choked her utterance, and the glistening tears rolledthick and fast over her cheeks; but she hurried on her way, and, aftera brisk walk of ten or fifteen minutes, turned into a side street andpresently entered a dilapidated-looking house. 

Mounting a flight of rickety stairs, she entered a room where a dimlight revealed a pale and wasted woman lying upon a poor butspotlessly clean couch. 

The room was also clean and orderly, though very meagerly furnished, but chill and cheerless, for there was not life enough in thesmoldering embers within the stove to impart much warmth with thetemperature outside almost down to zero. 

"Edith, dear, I am so glad you have come, " said a faint but sweetvoice from the bed. 

"And, mamma, I never came home with a sadder heart, " sighed the wearyand almost discouraged girl, as she sank upon a low chair at hermother's side. 

"How so, dear?" questioned the invalid; whereupon her daughter gave anaccount of her recent interview with the pawnbroker. 

"I know Mr. Bryant would never have given me the gold-piece if he hadnot supposed it to be all right, for he has been so very kind andconsiderate to me all the week, " she remarked, in conclusion, with aslight blush. "I am sure he would exchange it, even now; but he leftthe office at four, and I do not know where he lives; so I suppose Ishall have to wait until Monday; but I am terribly disappointed aboutthe watch, while we have neither food nor fuel to get over Sundaywith. "

The sick woman sighed gently. It was the only form of complaint thatshe ever indulged in. 

"Perhaps the money is not counterfeit, after all, " she remarked, aftera moment of thought. "Perhaps the pawnbroker did not want to give upthe watch, and so took that way to get rid of you. " "That is so! howstrange that I did not think of it myself!" exclaimed Edith, startingeagerly to her feet, the look of discouragement vanishing from herlovely face. "I will go around to the grocery at once, and perhapsthey will take the coin. What a comforter you always prove to be intimes of trouble, mamma!" she added, bending down to kiss the paleface upon the pillow. "Cheer up; we will soon have a blazing fire andsomething nice to eat. "

She again put on her jacket and hat, and drew on her gloves, preparatory to going forth to breast the storm and biting cold oncemore. 

"I cannot bear to have you go out again, " said her mother, in ananxious tone. 

"I do not mind it in the least, mamma, dear, " Edith brightlyresponded, "if I can only make you comfortable over Sunday. Next weekI am to go again to Mr. Bryant, who thinks he can give me workpermanently. You should see him, mamma, " she went on, flushing againand turning slightly away from the eyes regarding her so curiously;"he is so handsome, so courteous, and so very kind. Ah! I begin tohave courage once more, " she concluded, with a little silvery laugh;then went out, shutting the door softly behind her. 

Half an hour later she returned with her arms full of packages, andfollowed by a man bearing a generous basketful of coal and kindlings. 

Her face was glowing, her eyes sparkling, and she was a bewilderingvision of beauty and happiness. 

"The money wasn't bad, after all mamma, " she said, when the man haddeparted; "they didn't make the slightest objection to taking it atthe grocery. I believe you were right, and that the pawnbroker did notwant to give up the watch, so took that way to get rid of me. But Iwill have it next week, and I shall have a policeman to go with me toget it. "

"Did you tell the grocer anything about the trouble you have had?" theinvalid inquired. 

"No, mamma; I simply offered the coin in payment for what I bought, and he took it without a word, " Edith replied, but flushing slightly, for she felt a trifle guilty about passing the money after what hadoccurred. 

"I almost wish you had, " said her mother. 

"I thought I would, at first, but--I knew we must have something toeat, and fuel to keep us warm between now and Monday, and so I allowedthe grocer to take it upon his own responsibility, " the young girlresponded, with a desperate little glitter in her lovely eyes. 

Her companion made no reply, although there was a shade of anxietyupon her wan face. 

Edith, removing her things, bustled about, and soon had a cheerfulfire and an appetizing meal prepared. 

Her spirits appeared to rise with the temperature of the room, and shechatted cheerfully while about her work, telling a number ofinteresting incidents that had occurred in connection with heremployment during the week. 

"Now come, mamma, " she remarked, at length; "let me help you into yourchair and wheel you up to the table, for supper is ready, and I amsure you will enjoy these delicious oysters, which I have cooked asyou like them best. "

Mother and daughter were chatting pleasantly, enjoying their meal, when the door of their room was thrown rudely open and two men strodeinto their presence. 

Edith started to her feet in mingled indignation and alarm, then grewdeadly pale when she observed that one of the intruders was anofficer, and the other the grocer of whom she had made her recentpurchases. 

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" she demanded, trying in vainto keep her tones steady and her heart from sinking with a terribledread. 

"There! Mr. Officer; that is the girl who passed the counterfeit moneyat my store, " the grocer exclaimed, his face crimson with anger. 

Edith uttered a smothered cry of anguish, then sank weakly back intoher chair, as the man went forward to her side, laid his hand uponher shoulder, and remarked:

"You are my prisoner, miss. "

CHAPTER II. 

A STANCH FRIEND MAKES A VAIN APPEAL. 

Beautiful Edith Allandale and her gentle, refined mother had beensuddenly hurled from affluence down into the very depths of poverty. 

Only two years previous to the opening of our story the world had beenas bright to them as to any of the petted favorites of fortune whodwell in the luxurious palaces on Fifth avenue. 

Albert Allandale had been a wealthy broker in Wall street; for yearsFortune had showered her favors upon him, and everything he hadtouched seemed literally to turn to gold in his grasp. 

His family consisted of his wife, his beautiful daughter, and twobright sons, ten and twelve years of age, upon whom the dearest hopesof his life had centered. 

But like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, an illness of less than aweek had deprived him of both of his sons. 

Diphtheria, that fell destroyer, laid its relentless hand upon them, and they had died upon the same day, within a few hours of each other. 

The heart-broken father was a changed man from the moment, when, sitting in speechless agony beside these idolized boys, he watchedtheir young lives go out, and felt that the future held nothing totempt him to live on. 

His mind appeared to be impaired by this crushing blow; he couldneither eat nor sleep; his business was neglected, and, day by day, hefailed, until, in less than six months from the time that death had sorobbed him, he had followed his boys, leaving his wife and lovelydaughter to struggle as best they could with poverty; for their greatwealth had melted like snow beneath the blazing sun when Mr. Allandalelost his interest in the affairs of the world. 

Keenly sensitive, and no less proud--crushed by their many sorrows, the bereaved wife and daughter hid themselves and their grief fromevery one, in a remote corner of the great city. But misfortunefollowed misfortune--Mrs. Allandale having become a confirmedinvalid--until they were reduced to the straits described at theopening of our story. 

The week preceding they had spent their last dollar--obtained bypawning one after another of their old-time treasures--and Edithinsisted upon seeking employment. 

She had seen an advertisement for a copyist in one of the dailypapers, and, upon answering it in person, succeeded in obtaining thesituation with the young lawyer already mentioned. 

Every day spent in her presence only served to make him admire her themore; and, before the week was out, he had altogether lost his heartto her. 

When Saturday evening arrived, he paid her with the golden coin whichwas destined to bring fresh sorrow upon her, and she went out from hispresence with a strange feeling of pride and independence over theknowledge that she had earned it with her own hands, and henceforthwould be able to provide for her own and her mother's comfort. 

But Royal Bryant had been conscience-smitten when he saw her beautifulface light up with mingled pride and pleasure as he laid that tinypiece of gold in her palm. 

He would gladly have doubled the amount; but five dollars had been thesum agreed upon for that first week's work, and he feared that hewould wound her pride by offering her a gratuity. 

So he had told her that she would be worth more to him the next week, and that he would continue to increase her wages in proportion as sheacquired speed and proficiency in her work. 

Thus she had started forth, that dreary Saturday night, with acomparatively light heart, to redeem her watch, before going home totell her mother her good news. 

But, alas! how disastrously the day had closed!

"Come, miss, " impatiently remarked the officer, as she sat with bowedhead, her face covered with her hands, "get on your things! I've notime to be fooling away, and must run you into camp before it gets anylater. "

"Oh, what do you mean?" cried Edith, starting wildly to her feet. "Where are you going to take me?"

"To the station-house, of course, where you'll stay until Monday, whenyou'll be taken to court for your examination, " was the gruff reply. 

"Oh, no! I can never spend two nights in such a place!" moaned thenearly frantic girl, with a shiver of horror. "I have done nointentional wrong, " she continued, lifting an appealing look to theman's face. "That money was given to me for some work that I have beendoing this week, and if any one is answerable for it beingcounterfeit, it should be the person who paid it to me. "

"Who paid you the money?" the officer demanded. 

"A lawyer for whom I have been copying--Mr. Royal Bryant; his officeis at No. ---- Broadway. "

"Then you'll have to appeal to him. But of course it's too late now tofind him at his office. Where does he live?"

"I do not know, " sighed Edith, dejectedly. "I have only been with himone week, and did not once hear him mention his residence. "

"That's a pity, miss, " returned the officer, in a gentler tone, for hebegan to be moved by her beauty and distress. The condition of theinvalid, who had fallen back weak and faint in her chair when heentered, also appealed to him. 

"Unless you can prove your story true, and make up the grocer's lossto him, I shall be obliged to lock you up to await your examination. "

Edith's face lighted hopefully. 

"Do you mean that if I could pay Mr. Pincher I need not be arrested?"she eagerly inquired. 

"Yes; the man only wants his money. "

"Then he shall have it, " Edith joyfully exclaimed. "I will give himback the change he gave me, then I will go to Mr. Bryant the firstthing Monday morning and tell him about the gold-piece, when I am surehe will make it all right, and I can pay Mr. Pincher for what I boughtto-night. "

"No, you don't, miss, " here interposed the grocer himself. "I've hadthat game played on me too many times already. You'll just fork overfive dollars to me this very night or off you go to the lock-up. I'mnot going to run any risk of your skipping out of sight between nowand Monday, and leaving me in the lurch. "

"But I have no money, save the change you gave me, " said Edith, wearily. "And do you think I would wish to run away when my mother istoo sick to be moved?" she added, indignantly. "I could not take herwith me, and I would not leave her. Oh, pray do not force me to go tothat dreadful place this fearful night! I promise that I will stayquietly here and that you shall have every penny of your money onMonday morning. "

"She certainly will keep her word, gentlemen, " Mrs. Allandale hereinterposed, in a tremulous voice. "Do not force her to leave me, for Iam very ill and need her. "

"I'm going to have my five dollars now, or to jail she will go, " wasthe gruff response of the obdurate grocer. 

"Oh, I cannot go to jail!" wailed the persecuted girl. 

Mrs. Allandale, almost unnerved by the sight of her grief, pleadedagain with pallid face and quivering lips for her. But the man wasrelentless. He resolutely turned his back upon the two delicate womenand walked from the room, saying as he went:

"Do your duty, Mr. Officer, and I'll be on hand Monday morning, incourt, to tell 'em how I've been swindled. "

With this he vanished, leaving the policeman no alternative but toenforce the law. 

"Oh, mamma! mamma! how can I live and suffer such shame?" cried thedespairing girl, as she sank upon her knees in front of the sickwoman, and shuddered from head to foot in view of the fate before her. 

Mrs. Allandale was so overcome that she could not utter one word ofcomfort. She was only able to lift one wasted hand and lay it upon thegolden head with a touch of infinite tenderness; then, with a gasp, she fainted dead away. 

"Oh, you have killed her!" Edith cried, in an agonized tone. "Whatshall I do? How can I leave her? I will not. Oh! will no one come tohelp me in this dreadful emergency?"

"Sure, Miss Allandale, ye know that Kate O'Brien is always willin' tolend ye a hand when you're in trouble--bless yer bonny heart!" hereinterposed a loud but kindly voice, and the next instant thegood-natured face of a buxom Irishwoman was thrust inside the door, which the grocer had left ajar when he went out. "What is the matterhere?" she concluded, glancing from the officer to the senseless womanin her chair, and over whom Edith was hanging, chafing her cold hands, while bitter tears rolled over her face. 

A few words sufficed to explain the situation, and then theindignation of the warm-hearted daughter of Erin blazed forth moreforcibly than elegantly, and she berated the absent grocer and presentofficer in no gentle terms. 

Kate O'Brien would gladly have advanced the five dollars to thegrocer, but, unfortunately, she herself was at that moment almostdestitute of cash. 

"Come, Miss Allandale, " said the officer, somewhat impatiently, "Ican't wait any longer. "

"Oh, mamma! how can I leave you like this?" moaned the girl, with adespairing glance at the inanimate figure which, as yet, had given nosigns to returning life. 

"She has only fainted, mavourneen, " said Kate O'Brien, in a tendertone, for she at last realized that it would be worse than useless tocontend against the majesty of the law. "She'll soon come to hersel', and ye may safely trust her wid me--I'll not lave her till ye comeback again. "

And with this assurance, Edith was forced to be content, for she saw, by the officer's resolute face, that she could hope for no reprieve. 

So, with one last agonizing look, she pressed a kiss upon the pallidbrow of her loved one; then, again donning her hat and shawl, she toldthe policeman that she was ready, and went forth once more into thedarkness and the pitiless storm, feeling, almost, as if God himselfhad forsaken her, and wondering if she should ever see her dear motheralive again. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE YOUNG LAWYER EXPERIENCES TWO EXTRAORDINARY SURPRISES. 

The next morning, in the matron's room of the Thirtieth streetstation-house, a visitor came to see Edith Allandale. The visitor wasKate O'Brien, who, after announcing the condition of the prisoner'smother, declared her willingness to aid Edith in any way in her power. 

Edith intrusted a letter to her for Mr. Royal Bryant, and early Mondaymorning Kate was at the lawyer's office, and placed the missive in hishands. 

The young man instantly recognized the handwriting of his faircopyist, and flushed to his brow at sight of it. 

"Ah! she is ill and has sent me word that she cannot come to theoffice to-day!" he said to himself. 

"Sit down, madam, " he said to his visitor, and he eagerly tore openthe letter and read the following:

 "MR. BRYANT:--Dear Sir:--I am sorry to have to tell you that the five-dollar gold-piece which you gave me on Saturday evening was a counterfeit coin. I passed it at a grocery, near which I reside, in payment for necessaries which I purchased, and, half an hour later, was arrested for the crime of passing spurious money. I could not appeal to you at the time, for I did not know your address; but now I beg that you will come to my aid to-morrow morning, when I shall have to appear in court to answer the charge, for I do not know of any one else upon whom to call in my present extremity. Oh, pray come at once, for my mother is very ill and needs me. 

 "Respectfully yours, "EDITH M. ALLANDALE. "

Royal Bryant's face was ghastly white when he finished reading thisbrief epistle. 

"Good heavens!" he muttered, "to think of that beautiful girl beingarrested and imprisoned for such an offense! Where is Miss Allandale?"he added, aloud, turning to Mrs. O'Brien, who had been watching himwith a jealous eye ever since entering the room. 

"In the Thirtieth street station-house, sir, " she briefly responded. 

"Infamous!" exclaimed the young man, in great excitement. "And has shebeen in that vile place since Saturday evening?"

"She has, sir; but not with the common lot; the matron has been verygood to her, sir, and gave her a bed in her own room, " the womanexplained. 

"Blessed be the matron!" was Royal Bryant's inward comment. Then, turning again to his companion, he inquired. 

"What is your name, if you please, madam?"

"Kate O'Brien, at your service, sir. "

"Thank you; and do you live near Miss Allandale?"

"Jist forninst her, sir--on the same floor, across the hall. "

"She writes that her mother is very ill, " proceeded the young man, referring again to the letter. 

"Whisht, sir; the poor lady's dyin', sir, " said Kate in a tone of awe. 

"Dying!" exclaimed Royal Bryant, aghast. 

"Yes, sir; she has consumption; and just afther the officer--bad luckto 'im!--took the young lady away, she had a bad coughin' spell, andburst a blood-vessel, and she has been failin' ever since, " the womanexplained, with trembling lips. 

"Who is with Mrs. Allandale now?" questioned Mr. Bryant, with a lookof deep anxiety. 

"The docthor, sir; he promised to stay wid her till I come back. "

"Well, then, Mrs. O'Brien, if you will be good enough to hurry backand care for Mrs. Allandale, I will go at once to her daughter; and Iam very sure that I can secure her release within a short time. Tellher mother so, and that I will send her home immediately upon herrelease. "

"Bless yer kind heart!" cried the woman, heartily, and she hurriedaway to take the blessed news to Edith's fast-failing mother. 

The moment the door closed after her, Royal Bryant seized his overcoatand began to put it on again, his face aflame with mingled indignationand mortification. 

"In a common city lock-up for the crime of passing counterfeit money!"he muttered, hoarsely. "And to think that I brought such a fate uponher!--I, who would suffer torture to save her a pang. Two nights andan endless day, and her mother dying at home!--how she must havesuffered! I could go down upon my knees to ask her pardon, and yet Icannot understand it. That money came directly from the bank into mypossession. "

He was just fastening the last button of his coat when there came aknock upon his door. 

"Come in, " he said, but frowning with impatience at the unwelcomeinterruption and the probable detention which it portended. 

An instant later a rather common-looking man, of perhaps forty years, entered the room. 

"Ah, Mr. Knowles! good-morning, good-morning, " said young Bryant, withhis habitual cordiality. "What can I do for you to-day?"

"I--I have called to pay an installment upon what I owe you, Mr. Bryant, " the man responded, flushing slightly beneath the genialglance of the lawyer. 

"Ah, yes; I had forgotten that this was the date for the payment. Ihope, however, that you are not inconveniencing yourself in making itto-day, " remarked the young lawyer, as he observed that his client waspaler than usual and wore an anxious, care-worn expression. 

"There is nothing that inconveniences me more than debt, " the manevasively replied, but quickly repressing a sigh, as he drew forth awell-worn purse, while his companion saw that his lips trembledslightly as he said it. 

Opening the purse, Mr. Knowles produced a small coin and extended itto the lawyer. 

It was a five-dollar gold-piece. 

Mr. Bryant took it mechanically, and thanked him; but at the sametime, feeling a strange reluctance in so doing, for he was sure theman needed the money for his personal necessities, while his smallclaim against him for advice rendered a few weeks previous could waitwell enough, and he would never miss the amount. 

He experienced a sense of delicacy, however, about giving expressionto the thought, for he knew the gentleman to be both proud andsensitive, and he did not wish to wound him by assuming that he wasunable to make the payment that had become due. 

He stood awkwardly fingering the money and gazing absently down uponit as these thoughts flitted through his mind, and thinking, too, thatit was somewhat singular that Mr. Knowles should have paid him in goldcoin and of the very same denomination as he had given Edith less thanforty-eight hours previous, and which had been the means of causingher such deep trouble. 

Almost unconsciously, he turned the money over, his glance stillriveted upon it. 

As he did so he gave a violent start which caused his companion toregard him curiously. 

"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, in vehement excitement, as he bent toexamine the coin more closely, "this is the strangest thing that everhappened to me in all my experience!"

CHAPTER IV. 

A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 

Mr. Knowles regarded his companion with undisguised astonishment. 

"Is there anything wrong about the money?" he inquired, a gleam ofanxiety in his eyes. 

"Pardon me, " said Royal Bryant, flushing, as he was thus recalled tohimself; "you are justified in asking the question, and I trust youwill not regard me as impertinently inquisitive if I inquire if youcan remember from whom you received this piece of money. "

"Certainly I remember, " Mr. Knowles replied, but flushing painfully inhis turn at the question. 

"Will you kindly tell me the name of the person from whom you tookit?"

Mr. Knowles appeared even more embarrassed than before, and hesitatedabout replying. 

"I have a special and personal reason for asking you, " Mr. Bryantcontinued. "See!" he added, holding the gold-piece before him wherethe light struck full upon it, "you perceive this coin is marked, " andhe pointed out some vertical scratches which had been made just insidethe margin. "I made those marks myself. "

"Can that be possible!" exclaimed his companion, astonished. 

"Yes. This very piece of money was in my possession as late as fiveo'clock last Saturday afternoon. "

"I cannot understand, " said Mr. Knowles, looking mystified. 

"Let me explain, " returned Mr. Bryant. "I owed my copyist exactly fivedollars, and, having nothing smaller in bills than tens, I was obligedto pay her with this coin. While she was getting ready to leave theoffice, I sat toying with it and scratched it, as you see, with thepoint of my penknife; then I gave it to Miss Allandale, and thoughtno more about the matter. But just before you came in this morning, Ireceived a note from her saying she had been arrested for passing thecoin with which I had paid her, it having been declared counterfeit, and she begged me to come at once to her assistance and try to proveher innocence. I was just on the point of doing so when you called. "

"What a very singular circumstance, " Mr. Knowles remarked, reflectively. "It appears all the more so to me from the fact that Ialso received this piece of money no later than seven o'clock on lastSaturday evening. "

"You amaze me!" exclaimed Mr. Bryant. "Pray explain to me how you cameby it--it may help to solve this very perplexing mystery, for I amconfident that the coin is genuine, in spite of the trouble it hasbrought upon Miss Allandale. "

"Yes, I will be frank with you, " his companion returned, but flushingagain, "and tell you that, in order to make this payment to you, I wasobliged to borrow the money and gave, as security, a valuable mantelclock, which was one of my wife's wedding gifts. In other words, Ipawned it. It goes against my pride to confess it; but the idea ofdebt is horrible to me: and, having been in very straitenedcircumstances of late, from sickness in my family and other causes, Ihad no other means of meeting my obligations to you, while I hoped tobe able to redeem the clock before the time allotted should expire. "

"Mr. Knowles, I thank you heartily for telling me this, while, at thesame time, I am deeply pained, " gravely returned Royal Bryant. "Iwould not have had you so pressed for a great deal; my claim againstyou can wait indefinitely, and you need feel no anxiety regarding it. Take your own time about it, for I am sure that I can safely trust aman to whom the idea of debt is so repulsive. "

"You are very good, " said Mr. Knowles, in a grateful tone. 

"I shall return you this amount, " the young lawyer resumed, "but inbills, for I wish to retain this gold-piece; and I beg that you willgo at once and redeem your wife's clock. I am also going to throw alittle business in your way, for I would like to retain you as awitness for Miss Allandale, and you shall be well paid for yourservices. Now please give me the name of the pawnbroker from whom youtook the money. "

"Solon Retz, No. ---- Third avenue. "

"Ah, yes; I know him for a scheming and not over-scrupulous person. Ifought a tough battle with him a year or so ago. "

But Royal Bryant still looked greatly perplexed. 

He could not understand how the pawnbroker could have had thatparticular gold-piece to loan upon Mr. Knowles' clock, before seveno'clock on Saturday evening, when Edith Allandale had been arrested, that same night, for trying to pass it off upon the grocer of whom shehad spoken in her note. 

To him it seemed an inexplicable mystery. 

However, he knew--he could take his oath--that the coin which he nowheld in his hand was the identical piece of money which he had paid tohis beautiful but unfortunate copyist for her last week's work, and hewas also reasonably sure that it was not a counterfeit. 

"I suppose you will have no objection to testifying as to how and fromwhom you received the money?" he inquired of Mr. Knowles, after a fewmoments' reflection. 

"Certainly not, if such testimony will be of any benefit to the younglady's cause, " he readily replied. "And, " he added, "I can easilyprove the truth of my assertions, as I have here the ticket which Ireceived from the pawnbroker. "

"Ah! that is well thought of, and will undoubtedly score a strongpoint for Miss Allandale, " Mr. Bryant exclaimed, with animation. "Andnow allow me to advance you the fee for your services as a witness, "he added, as he pressed a ten-dollar note into his companion's hand. "This will be sufficient to redeem your clock and remunerate you forthe time you may lose in appearing as a witness. Hereafter, Mr. Knowles, if you find yourself short of cash, pray do not be troubledabout what is owing me--do not try to pay it until it is perfectlyconvenient for you to do so. "

"You are very considerate, Mr. Bryant, " the man returned, with evidentemotion. "I cannot tell you how your generosity touches me, for theworld has gone very badly with me of late. "

"Well, we will hope for better times in the future for you, sir, " wasthe cheery response of the noble-hearted young lawyer. "Now I must beoff, " he added, "and I would like you to meet me at the Thirtiethstreet station-house in an hour from now. I shall know by that timewhat I shall be able to do for my young friend. "

He bade the man good-morning and bowed him out of his office, and, five minutes later, was on his way to the assistance of beautifulEdith Allandale. 

Before boarding a car, he stepped into a bank near-by and had the goldcoin tested. 

It proved to be just as he had thought--it was perfectly good, and ifEdith had been arrested for passing it, some one would have to standdamages for having subjected her to such an injustice. 

Upon his arrival at the station-house, and requesting an interviewwith Miss Allandale as her attorney, the police sergeant conducted himdirectly to the room occupied by Edith, who looked so pale and wanfrom anxiety and confinement that the young man's conscience smote himkeenly, although his heart bounded with sudden joy when he saw how hersad face lighted at the sight of him. 

"This is the most outrageous thing I ever heard of, Miss Allandale, "he exclaimed, as he clasped her cold hand and looked regretfully intothe heavy blue eyes raised to his. 

"I was sure you would come, " she murmured, with a sigh of relief, butflushing for an instant beneath his ardent gaze, while her lipsquivered with suppressed emotion, for his tone of sympathy had almostunnerved her. 

"Of course I would come--I would go to the ends of the earth to serveyou, " he began, eagerly. "I am filled with remorse when I think whatyou must have suffered and that I am responsible for your trouble, though unintentionally and unconsciously. "

"Yes, I am sure you could not have known that the money wascounterfeit, " said Edith, wearily. 

"And it was not, " he quickly returned. "It is a genuine coin andnegotiable anywhere. "

"But I was told by two different persons that it was spurious, " Edithreplied, in a tone of surprise. 

"Then you were misinformed in both cases, for I have had it tested ata bank, and it has been pronounced good, " returned her companion. 

"You have had it tested? How can that be possible, when the grocer whocaused me to be arrested has the money in his possession this moment?"the young girl exclaimed, in amazement. 

Royal Bryant smiled as he drew forth the half-eagle which he hadreceived from Mr. Knowles, and laid it in her palm. 

"That is the five-dollar gold-piece that I gave you on Saturdayevening, " he remarked, in a quiet tone. 

"Have you seen the grocer? Did you get it from him?" Edith gasped. 

"No; an old client of mine brought it to me, about half an hour ago, in part payment of a debt which he owes me. "

"I do not understand--it cannot be the same, " said Edith, with a lookof perplexity. 

"But it is, " was the smiling reply. "Look at it closely, and you willfind some fresh scratches upon one side of it--do you see?"

"Yes, " the young girl admitted. 

"Very well; I made them with my penknife during a fit ofabsent-mindedness, while you were putting on your hat and shawl onSaturday evening, " Royal Bryant explained. "It was all the money Ihad, excepting some large bills, and I was obliged to give it to you, even though I knew it was not a convenient form--one is so liable tolose such a small piece. I am sure I do not know what possessed me todeface it in the way I did, " he continued, after a slight pause; "butthere the marks are, fortunately, and I could swear to the coin amonga hundred others of the same denomination. "

"Yes, I remember, now, " Edith remarked, reflectively; "I noticed thegold-piece in your hands and that you were using your knife upon it;but how could it have come into the possession of your client? Surelythe grocer would not have parted with it voluntarily, for it was allthe proof he had against me. "

"No; my client, Mr. Knowles, obtained it from a pawnbroker at No. ----Third avenue, " Mr. Bryant replied. 

Instantly the red blood mounted to the girl's fair brow, and, like aflash, Royal Bryant comprehended how all her trouble had come about. 

"Yes, " she sighed, after a moment, as if in reply to some questionfrom him, "the week before I went into your office I was obliged toborrow some money upon a beautiful watch of mamma's. It was a veryvaluable one, but the man would only advance me three dollars upon it. Of course I felt that I must redeem it with the very first money Iearned, and I went immediately to the pawnbroker's to get it onleaving your office. He seemed averse to the early redemption of thewatch, and threw my money impatiently into the drawer. The nextinstant he gave it back to me, angrily telling me that it wascounterfeit, and charging me with trying to cheat him. But, even now, I cannot understand--"

"So the pawnbroker threw your money into his drawer, did he?"interposed Mr. Bryant, eagerly grasping at this important point. 

"Yes; but, as I said, he returned it immediately to me, and I wasobliged to go home without my watch. I was in great distress because, Mr. Bryant, it was all the money I had, and there were things thatmamma and I must have in order to be comfortable over Sunday, " Edithconfessed, with crimson cheeks and downcast eyes, the sight of whichmade her companion's heart ache for her. "Mamma suggested that themoney might not be bad, after all, " she continued, determined that heshould know the whole truth about the matter; "that, possibly, thepawnbroker had taken that way to retain the watch, with the hope ofultimately securing it; so I started out to make my purchases. Thegrocer made no objection to the money and gave me my change without aword. But half an hour later he appeared with an officer and had mearrested. He would not have pressed the matter if I could havereturned his money; but, as I could not, and he claimed he hadsuffered from so many similar cases of swindling, he was obdurate, andI was obliged to come here. "

"It was shameful!" said the young lawyer, indignantly. "It was aheartless thing to do. But, my little friend, I think we have a veryclear case, and you will soon be fully vindicated. "

"Oh! do you? I shall be very grateful--" Edith began, then stopped, choking back a sob that had almost burst from her trembling lips. 

"I see you do not quite comprehend how that can be, " continued herfriend, ignoring her emotion. "But the piece of money which thepawnbroker pretended to return to you was not the same that you hadreceived from me--it was a spurious one which he had at hand for theexpress purpose evidently of tricking the unwary, and Mr. Solon Retzwill, ere long, be compelled to exchange places with you, if I canpossibly bring him to justice. "

CHAPTER V. 

A MOTHER'S LAST REQUEST. 

Two hours later, Royal Bryant was at the pawnbroker's shop, and hadredeemed Edith's watch, much against the wish of the money-lender, whodesired to retain it. And as the lawyer placed the watch in hispocket, he made a sign to an officer on the street, who hadaccompanied him to the spot. 

Solon Retz was astounded when he found himself a prisoner, on thecharge of passing counterfeit money. He was hurried to court, and thejudge investigated the case at once. Mr. Bryant and Mr. Knowles gavetheir testimony, and it was conclusively demonstrated that thespurious coin must have come from the pawnbroker's drawer. 

At Royal Bryant's suggestion the pawnbroker was ordered to besearched, when no less than three more bogus pieces were foundconcealed upon his person. 

This was deemed sufficient proof of his guilt, without furthertestimony, and he was sentenced to four years' imprisonment, withoutEdith having been called to the witness stand to testify against him. 

As the crestfallen pawnbroker was led away, Royal Bryant went eagerlyto Edith's side. 

"You are free, Miss Allandale, " he exclaimed, with a radiant face, "and I think we are to be congratulated upon having made such quickwork of the case. "

"It is all owing to your cleverness, " Edith returned, lifting a pairof grateful eyes to his face. "How can I thank you?"

"You do not need to do that, for I feel that I alone have been toblame for all your trouble, " he said, in a self-reproachful tone; thenhe added, with a roguish gleam in his fine eyes: "I shall never beguilty of paying my copyist in gold again. Now come, I have a carriagewaiting for you and will send you directly home to your mother, " theyoung man concluded, as he lifted her shawl from the chair where shehad been sitting and wrapped it about her shoulders. 

Edith followed him to the street, where a hack stood ready to take herhome. 

Mr. Bryant assisted her to enter it, when he laid a small package inher lap. 

"It is your watch, " he said, in a low tone. Then, extending his handto her, he added: "I shall not ask you to return to the office for twoor three days--you need rest after your recent anxiety and excitement, while I am to be away until Wednesday noon. Come to me on Thursdaymorning, if you feel able, when I shall have plenty of work for you. "

He pressed the hand he was holding with an unconscious fondness whichbrought a rich color into the young girl's face, then, closing thecarriage door, he gave the order to the coachman, smiled anotheradieu, as he lifted his hat to her, and the next moment Edith wasdriven away. 

There was a glad light in her eyes, a tender smile on her red lips, and, in spite of her poverty and many cares, she was, for the moment, supremely happy, for Royal Bryant's manner had been far moresuggestive to her than he had been aware of, and she was thrilled toher very soul by the consciousness that he loved her. 

She sat thus, in happy reverie, until the carriage turned into thestreet where she lived; then, suddenly coming to herself, herattention was again attracted to the package in her lap. 

"There is something besides mamma's watch here!" she murmured, as shenoticed the thickness of it. 

Untying the string and removing the wrapper, she found a pretty pursewith a silver clasp lying upon the case containing the watch. 

With burning cheeks she opened it, and found within a crisp ten-dollarnote and Royal Bryant's card bearing these words upon the back:

 "I shall deem it a favor if you will accept the inclosed amount, as a loan, until you find yourself in more comfortable circumstances financially. Yours, R. B. "

Edith caught the purse to her lips with a thrill of joy. 

"How kind! how delicate!" she murmured. "He knew that I was nearlypenniless--that I had almost nothing with which to tide over the nextfew days, during his absence. He is a prince--he is a king among men, and I--"

A vivid flush dyed her cheeks as she suddenly checked the confessionthat had almost escaped her lips, her head drooped, her chest heavedwith the rapid beating of her heart, as she realized that her deepestand strongest affections had been irrevocably given to thenoble-hearted young man who had been so kind to her in her recenttrouble. 

The carriage stopped at last before the door of her home--if themiserable tenenment-house could be designated by such a name--and shesprang eagerly to the ground as the coachman opened the door for herto alight. 

"The fare is all paid, miss, " he said, respectfully, as she hesitateda moment; then she went bounding up the stairs to be met on thethreshold of her room by Kate O'Brien--who had seen the carriagestop--with her finger on her lips and a look in her kind, honest eyesthat made the girl's heart sink with a sudden shock. 

"My mother!" she breathed, with paling lips. 

"Whisht, mavourneen!" said the woman, pitifully; then added, in alower tone: "She has been mortal ill, miss. "

"And now?" panted Edith, leaning against the door-frame for support. 

"'Sh! She is asleep. "

Edith waited to hear no more. Something in the woman's face and mannerfilled her with a terrible dread. 

She pushed by her, entered the room, and glided swiftly butnoiselessly to the bed, looked down upon the scarcely breathing figurelying there. 

It was with difficulty that she repressed a shriek of agony at whatshe saw, for the shadow of death was unmistakably settling over thebeloved face. 

The invalid stirred slightly upon her pillow as Edith came to her sideand bent over her. 

"My darling, " she murmured weakly, as her white lids fluttered open, and she bent a look full of love upon the fair face above her, "I--amgoing--"

"No, no, mamma!" whispered the almost heart-broken girl, butstruggling mightily with her agony and to preserve calmness lest sheexcite the invalid. 

"Bring me the--Japanese box--quick!" the dying woman commanded, in ascarcely audible tone. 

Without a word Edith darted to a closet, opened a trunk, and from itsdepths drew forth a beautiful casket inlaid with mother-of-pearl andotherwise exquisitely decorated. 

"The--key, " gasped the sick one, fumbling feebly among the folds ofher night-robe. 

Edith bent over her and unfastened a key from a golden chain whichencircled her mother's neck. 

"Open!" she whispered, glancing toward the casket. 

The girl, wondering, but awed and silent, unlocked the box and threwback the cover, thus revealing several packages of letters and otherpapers neatly arranged within it. 

Mrs. Allandale reached forth a weak and bloodless hand, as if to takesomething out of the box, when she suddenly choked, and in anotherinstant the red life-current was flowing from her lips. 

"Letters--burn--" she gasped, with a last expiring effort, and thenbecame suddenly insensible. 

In an agony of terror, Edith dashed the box upon the nearest chair andbegan to chafe the cold hand that hung over the side of the bed, whileMrs. O'Brien came forward, a look of awe on her face. 

The frail chest of the invalid heaved two or three times, there was aspasmodic twitching of the slender fingers lying on the young girl'shand, then all was still, and Edith Allandale was motherless. 

CHAPTER VI. 

A HERITAGE OF SHAME. 

We will not linger over the sad details of the ceremonies attendingMrs. Allandale's burial. Suffice it to say that on Tuesday afternoonher remains were borne away to Greenwood, and laid to rest, in thefamily lot, beside those gone before, after which Edith returned toher desolate abode more wretched than it is possible to describe. 

She had made up her mind, however, that she could not remain there anylonger--that she must find a place for herself in a differentlocality and among a different class of people. This she knew shecould do, since she had the promise of permanent work and now had onlyherself to care for. 

The change, too, must be made upon the following day, as Mr. Bryantwould expect her at his office on Thursday morning. 

There was much to be done, many things to be packed for removal, whilewhat she did not care to retain must be disposed of; and, eager toforget her grief and loneliness--for she knew she would be ill if shesat tamely down and allowed herself to think--she began at once, uponher return from the cemetery, to get ready to leave the cheerless homewhere she had suffered so much. 

She decided, first of all, to pack all wearing apparel; and, on goingto her closet to begin her work, the first thing her eyes fell uponwas the casket of letters, which her mother had requested her to bringto her just before she died. 

The sight of this unnerved her again, and, with a moan of pain, shesank upon her knees and bowed her head upon it. 

But the fountain of her tears had been so exhausted that she could notweep; and, finally becoming somewhat composed, she took the beautifulbox out into the room and sat down near a light to examine itscontents. 

"Mamma evidently wanted these letters destroyed, " she murmured, as shethrew back the cover. "I will do as she wished, but I will first lookthem over, to be sure there is nothing of value among them. "

She set about her task at once and found that they were mostlymissives from intimate friends, with quite a number written by herselfto her mother, while she was away at boarding-school. 

All these she burned after glancing casually at them. Nothing thenremained in the box but a small package of six or eight time-yellowedepistles bound together with a blue ribbon. 

"What peculiar writing!" Edith observed, as she separated one fromthe others and examined the superscription upon the envelope. "Why, itis postmarked Rome, Italy, away back in 18--, and addressed to mammain London! That must have been when she was on her wedding tour!"

Her curiosity was aroused, and, drawing the closely-written sheet fromits inclosure, she began to read it. 

It was also dated from Rome, and the girl was soon deeply immersed ina story of intense and romantic interest. 

She readily understood that the letter had been written by a dearfriend of Mrs. Allandale's youth--one who had been both school androommate, and who unreservedly confided all her secrets andexperiences to her bosom companion. And yet, it was strange, Ediththought, that she had never heard her mother speak of this friend. 

It seemed that there had been quite an interval in theircorrespondence, for the writer spoke of the surprise which her friendwould experience upon receiving a letter from her from that locality, when she had probably believed her to be in her own home, living thequiet life of a dutiful daughter. 

Then it spoke of an "ideal love" that "had come to beautify her life;"of a noble and wealthy artist who had won her heart, but who, for someunaccountable reason, had not been acceptable to her parents, and theyhad sternly rejected his proposal for her hand. 

Next came the _denouement_, which told that the girl had eloped withher lover and flown with him to Italy. 

"I suppose it was not the right thing to do, darling, " the missiveran; "but papa, you know, is a very austere, relentless man, and whenhe has once made up his mind, there is no hope of ever turning him; soI have taken my fate into my own hands--or, rather, I have given itinto the keeping of my dear one, and we are so happy, Edith darling, and lead an ideal life in this quaint old city of the seven hills, atwhose feet runs, like a thread of gold, the yellow Tiber. My husbandis everything to me--so noble, so kind, so generous; it is so verystrange that papa could not like him--that is the only drop ofbitterness in my overflowing cup of happiness. "

There was much more of the same tenor, from which it is not necessaryto quote; and, after reading the letter through, Edith took upanother, interested to know how the pretty love-story of her mother'sfriend would terminate. The second one, written a month later, wasmore subdued, but not less tender, although the young girl thought shedetected a vein of sadness running through it. 

The next two or three mentioned the fact that the writer was left muchalone, her "dear one" being obliged to be away a great deal of thetime, upon sketching expeditions, etc. 

After an interval of three months another letter spoke in the fondestmanner of the "dear little stranger, " that had come to bless and cheerher loneliness--"lonely, dear Edith, because my husband's artmonopolizes his time, while he is often absent from home a week at atime in connection with it, and I do not know what I should do, inthis strange country away from all my friends, if it were not for myprecious baby girl whom I have named for you, as I promised, in memoryof those happy days which we spent together at Vassar. "

"Then mamma's friend had a daughter, who was also named Edith, " musedour fair heroine, breaking in upon her perusal of the letter. "Iwonder if she is living, and where? Those letters tell me nothing, give no last name by which to identify either the writer or herhusband. "

She turned back to the epistle, and read on:

"She is such a comfort to me, " it ran, "and gives me an object inlife--something besides myself and my trou"--these last three wordswere crossed out--"to think about. When will you come to Rome, dearEdith? Your last letter was dated from St. Petersburgh. I am veryanxious that you should see your little namesake, and make me thatlong-promised visit. "

There was scarcely a word in this letter referring to her husband, except those three crossed-out words; but it overflowed with praisesand love of her beautiful child, although it was evident that theyoung wife was far from experiencing the conjugal happiness that hadpermeated her previous missives. 

There was only one more letter in the package, and Edith's face wasvery grave and sympathetic as she drew it from its envelope. 

"I am sure that her husband proved to be negligent of and unkind toher, " she murmured, "and that she repented her rashness in leaving herhome and friends. Oh, I wonder why girls will be so foolish andheadstrong as to go directly contrary to the advice of those who lovethem best, and run away with men of whom they know comparativelynothing!"

With a sigh of regret for the unfortunate wife, of whom she had beenreading, she unfolded the letter in her hands and began to read, little dreaming what strange things she was to learn from it. 

"Oh, Edith darling, " it began, "how can I tell you?--how can I writeof the terrible calamity that has overtaken me? My heart is broken--mylife is ruined, and all because I would not heed those who loved me, and who, I now realize, were my best and kindest counselors. I couldbear it for myself, perhaps--I could feel that it was but a justjudgment upon me for my obstinacy and unfilial conduct, and so dragout my weary existence in submission to the inevitable; but when Ithink of my innocent babe--my lovely Edith--your namesake! oh! I wouldnever have had her christened thus, I could not have insulted you so, had I known! I feel almost inclined to doubt the justice and love ofGod--if, indeed, there is a God. "

The letter here looked as if the writer must have been overcome withher wretchedness, and wept tears of bitter despair, for it was badlyblurred and defaced. 

But Edith, her face now absolutely colorless, read eagerly on. 

"I cannot bear it and live, " the writer resumed, "and so--I am goingto--die. Edith, my husband--no, my betrayer, I ought rather tosay--has deserted me! He has gone to Florence with a beautifulItalian countess, who is also very rich, and is living with her therein her elegant palace, just outside the city. He has long beenattentive to her, but I never dreamed how far matters had gone untilyesterday, when I came upon them, unawares, in Everard's studio, andheard him tell her how he loved her--that 'I was not his wife, onlyhis ----' I cannot write the vile word that makes my flesh creep withhorror. Then I learned of his base conduct to me, whom, as heexpressed it, he 'had cleverly deceived, and coaxed to run away withhim to while away his solitude during his sojourn in a strangecountry. ' It is a wonder that I did not drop dead where I stood--slainby the dreadful truth; but the wicked lovers did not dream of beingoverheard, and so I listened to the whole of their vile plot and thenstole away to try and decide upon a course of action. When Everardcame home, I charged him with his perfidy. Then--pity me, Edith--heboldly told me that he was weary of me; that he would pay me ahandsome sum of money and I might take my child and go back to myparents! Oh! I cannot go into details, or tell you what I havesuffered--no one will ever know that but God! Why, oh, why does Hepermit such evil to exist? He does not--there is no God! there is noGod!"

There was a huge blot here, as if the pen had fallen from the fingersthat had dared to deny the existence of Deity; then the missive wasresumed in a different tone, as if a long interval of thought hadintervened. 

"Edith, I am calmer now, and I am going to ask a great favor of you. You are happily married, you have a noble husband and abundant means, and you know we once pledged ourselves to befriend each other, ifeither should ever find herself in trouble. Presuming upon thatpledge, I am going to ask if you will take my darling, my poorinnocent little waif, bring her up as your own, and never let her knowanything about the stain that rests upon her birth? She is pure; sheis not to blame for the sins of her parents, and I cannot bear thethought of her growing up to learn of her heritage of shame, as shewould be sure to do if I should live and rear her as my child. Yourlast letter tells me that you will be in Rome in less than afortnight. I cannot meet you--I can never again meet any one whom Ihave known; and so, Edith--I am going to die. I give my child toyou--I believe you will not refuse my last request--and you will findher, with the woman who nursed me when she was born, at No. 2 Via delVecchia. The woman has my instructions--she believes that I am onlygoing away on a little trip with my husband; but you will show herthis letter, and prove to her that you have authority to take thechild away. When you go home, you will take her with you, as your own, and no one need ever know that she is not your own. Do not ever revealthe truth to her; let her grow up happy and care-free, like othergirls who are of honorable birth; and if the dead can watch over andshield the living, you and yours shall be so shielded and watched overby your lost but still loving. BELLE. "

"She was my mother! I am that child of shame!" came hoarsely fromEdith's bloodless lips as she finished reading that dreadful letter. 

Then the paper slipped from her nerveless fingers, her head droppedunconsciously upon the table before her, and she knew nothing moreuntil, long afterward, when she awoke from her swoon to find her lampgone out and the room growing cold, while her heart felt as if it hadbeen paralyzed in her bosom. 

CHAPTER VII. 

TWO NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 

Edith, when consciousness returned, had not a doubt that the letters, which she had been reading, had been penned by the hand of her ownmother; that she was that little baby who had been born in Rome--thatchild of shame whose father had so heartlessly deserted it; whosemother, her brain turned by her suffering and wrongs, had planned totake her own life, rather than live to taint her little one's futurewith the shadow of her own disgrace. 

The knowledge of this seemed to blight, as with a lightning flash, every hope of her life. 

She groped her way to the bed, for she was becoming benumbed with thecold, and threw herself upon it, utterly wretched, utterly hopeless. For hours she lay there in a sort of stupor, conscious only of oneterrible fact--her shame--her ruined life!

She had never dreamed, until within that hour, that she was not thedaughter of those whom she had always known as her father and mother. 

She had known that they had gone abroad immediately after theirmarriage, and had spent more than a year visiting foreign countries. 

She had been told that she was born in Rome, in 18--, and she nowrealized that the letters which she had just read had been mostlywritten during the same year. 

Mrs. Allandale had never meant that she should learn this terriblesecret, and that is why she had been so anxious during her lastmoments that the contents of the Japanese box should be destroyed. 

Edith wondered why she had kept the letters at all--why she had notdestroyed them immediately upon adopting her, and thus prevented thepossibility of a revelation like this. 

To be sure, no one save herself need ever know of the fact unless shechose to disclose it; nevertheless, she felt just as deeply branded byit as if all the world had known of it. 

"Oh, I had begun to hope that--" she began, then abruptly ceased, aburning flush suffusing her face as her thoughts thus went out towardRoyal Bryant, whose eyes had only the day before told her, as plainlyas eyes could speak, that he loved her, while her heart had thrilledwith secret joy over the revelation, and the knowledge that her ownaffection had been irrevocably given to him, even though they hadknown each other so short a time. 

Even in the midst of her sorrow over her dead, the thought that sheloved and was beloved had been like the strains of soothing music toher, and she had looked forward to her return to the young lawyer'soffice as to a place of refuge, where she would meet with kindness andsympathy that would comfort her immeasurably. 

But these beautiful dreams had been ruthlessly shattered; she couldnever be anything to Royal Bryant--he could never be anything to her, after learning what she had learned that night. 

Edith determined to leave New York at once. With this object in view, she disposed of most of her furniture to a broker, who gave her sixtydollars for it. She reserved articles she presented to her stanchfriend, Kate O'Brien. These matters attended to, she wrote a letter toMr. Bryant, mailed it, and a few hours later was on the train, enroute to Boston. 

On Thursday morning Mr. Bryant, returning to town from a businesstrip, cheerfully entered his office, expecting to behold there theradiant face of Edith. To his great disappointment, she was absent;and her absence was explained in the appended letter, which he readwith dismay and dejection. 

 "DEAR MR. BRYANT:--Inclosed you will find the amount which you so kindly loaned me on Monday, and without which I should have been in sore straits. On reaching home that day, I found my mother dying. She was buried yesterday afternoon, and I am now entirely alone in the world. I find that circumstances will not permit me to return to your employ, and when you receive this I shall have left New York. Pray do not think that because I do not see you and thank you personally before I go, I am ungrateful for all your recent and unexampled kindness to me. I am not, I assure you; I shall never forget it--it will be one of the sacred memories of my life, that in you, in a time of dire need, I found a true friend and helper. 

 Sincerely yours, EDITH ALLANDALE. "

The lawyer lost no time in hastening to Edith's late residence. Therehe learned from Kate O'Brien that Edith had already gone, but sheknew not her destination. He stated that he wished to consult theyoung lady upon a business matter and that if Mrs. O'Brien shouldlearn of her address, it would be considered a great favor if shewould bring it to him. This the kind-hearted Irish woman agreed to do, and with a heavy heart the young lawyer returned to his place ofbusiness. 

Meanwhile, Edith was being wheeled along the rails toward herdestination. When the train reached New Haven, feeling faint, for shehad not been able to eat much breakfast, she got out to purchase alunch. 

She entered the station and bought some sandwiches, together with alittle fruit, and then started to return to the train. 

Just in front of her she noticed a fine-looking, richly-clad couplewho were evidently bound in the same direction. 

The gentleman opened the door for his companion to pass out, but asshe did so, the heel of her boot caught upon the threshold, and shewould have fallen heavily to the platform if Edith had not sprungforward and caught her by the hand which she threw out to saveherself. 

As it was, she was evidently badly hurt, for she turned very white anda sharp cry of pain was forced from her lips. 

"Are you injured, madam? Can I do anything for you?" Edith inquired, while her husband, springing to her aid, exclaimed, in a tone ofmingled concern and impatience:

"What have you done, Anna?"

"Turned my ankle, I think, " the woman replied, as she leaned heavilyagainst his shoulder for support. 

Edith stooped to pick up the beautiful Russia leather bag which shehad dropped as she stumbled, and followed the couple to the train, where, with the help of a porter, the injured lady was assisted into aparlor car. 

The one adjoining it was the common passenger coach in which Edith hadridden from New York. 

"Here is madam's bag, sir, " she remarked to the gentleman, as, supporting his wife with one arm, he was about to pass into thePullman. 

"Are you going on this train?" he inquired, looking back over hisshoulder at her. 

"Yes, sir; but I do not belong in the parlor car. "

"Never mind; we will fix that all right. Bring the bag along, if youwill be so kind, " he returned, as he went on with his companion. 

So Edith followed them to the little state-room at one end of the car, where madam sank heavily into a chair, looking as if she were ready toswoon. 

"Oh, get off my boot!" she pleaded, thrusting out her injured foot. 

Edith drew forward a hassock for it to rest upon, and then, with aface full of sympathy, dropped upon her knees and began to unbuttonthe boot, which, however, was no easy matter, as the ankle was alreadymuch swollen. 

The train began to move just at this moment, and the young girlstarted to her feet, an anxious look sweeping over her face. 

"Never mind, " said the gentleman, reassuringly. "Unless you havefriends aboard the train to be troubled about you, I will take youback to your car presently. "

"I have no one--I am traveling alone, " Edith responded, and flushingslightly, as she encountered the gaze of earnest admiration which hebestowed upon her. 

The gentleman's face lighted at her reply. 

"Then would it be presuming upon your kindness too much to ask you toremain with my wife?" he inquired. "I am perfectly helpless, like mostmen, when any one is ill and we know no one on the train. "

"I will gladly stay, and do whatever I can for her, " eagerly returnedEdith, who felt that it would be a great relief and safeguard if shecould complete her journey under the protection of these prepossessingpeople; while, too, it would give her something to think of and keepher from dwelling upon her own sorrows. 

As Edith, from time to time, continued her ministering to the injuredfoot, rubbing it with alcohol, to reduce the inflammation, she wasquestioned by her new acquaintances, and informed them of her recentbereavement and of her lonely condition, and stated that she was goingto Boston to try to secure employment. 

She was applying the alcohol when the lady said:

"That will do for the present, Miss ---- What shall I call you, please?" she remarked, signifying that she did not care to have thefoot rubbed any longer at that time. 

"Edith Allen--Oh, what have I done?" the young girl suddenly criedout, in a voice of pain, as the woman winced and gave vent to a moanbeneath her touch. 

"Nothing--do not be troubled, dear--only you happened to touch a verytender spot, " exclaimed the lady, trying to smile reassuringly intothe girl's startled face. "So your name is Edith Allen; that soundsvery nice, " she continued. "I am fond of pretty names as I am ofpretty people. "

Edith opened her lips to correct her regarding her name; then suddenlychecked herself. 

It did not matter, she thought, if they did not know her full name. She might never see them again; she had a right to use only the firsthalf of her surname, if she chose, and it would not be nearly soconspicuous as Allandale, which was so familiar in certain circles inNew York. 

Thus she concluded to let the matter rest as it was. 

The acquaintance thus begun was productive of an utterly unexpectedresult. Before the trip was ended, the lady had induced Edith toaccept the position of traveling companion to her, at a salary oftwenty-five dollars a month. She stated that about a month previousshe had lost the services of the female who had filled the position, and until this time had been unable to find a suitable person for theplace. 

Edith decided to try the position for a month; "then, " she added, "ifI meet your requirements, we can arrange for a longer time. "

"Very well; I am pleased with that arrangement. And now, Edith--ofcourse I am not going to be so formal as to address you as MissAllen--"

"Certainly not, " interposed Edith, with a charming little smile andblush. 

"I was about to remark, " the lady went on, "that I think it is time wewere formally introduced to you. My husband is known as GeraldGoddard, Esq. , of No. ---- Commonwealth avenue, Boston, and I am--Mrs. Goddard. "

Edith wondered why she should have paused before speaking thus ofherself; why she should have shot that quick, flashing glance into herhusband's face as she did so. 

She was a very handsome woman of perhaps forty-two or forty-threeyears. She was slightly above the medium height, with a magnificentlyproportioned figure. Her hair was coal-black, with a tendency to curl;her eyes were of the same color, very large and brilliant, andrendered peculiarly expressive by the long raven lashes which shadedthem. Her complexion was a pale olive, clear and smooth as satin; herfeatures were somewhat irregular, but singularly pleasing when she wasanimated; her cheeks slightly tinted, her lips a vivid scarlet, herteeth white as alabaster. 

Later, when Edith saw her arrayed for an evening reception, shethought her the most brilliantly handsome woman she had ever seen. 

As Mrs. Goddard finished speaking, Edith involuntarily glanced up atMr. Gerald Goddard, when she was startled to find him sharplyscrutinizing her, with a look which seemed to be trying to read herthrough and through. 

His glance sent a strange chill running through her veins--a sensationalmost of fear and repulsion; and she found herself hoping that shewould not be obliged to see very much of the gentleman, even thoughshe was destined to become an inmate of his home. 

He was evidently somewhat older than his wife, for his hair was almostwhite and his face somewhat lined--whether from time, care, ordissipation, Edith could not quite determine. 

He would have been called and was regarded by the society in which hemoved as a remarkably handsome and distinguished looking man, whoentertained "like a prince, " and possessed an exhaustless fund of witand knowledge. 

Nevertheless, Edith was repelled by him, and felt that he was not aman to be either trusted or loved, even though she had not been anhour in his presence before she was made to realize that his wifeadored him. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE VENOM OF JEALOUSY. 

And thus Edith became companion to the wife of the wealthy andaristocratic Gerald Goddard, who was known as one of Boston'smillionaires. 

They had a beautiful home on Commonwealth avenue, where they spenttheir winters, a fine estate in Wyoming, besides a villa at Newport, all of which were fitted up with an elegance which bespoke anabundance of means. And so Edith was restored to a life of luxury akinto that to which she had always been accustomed, previous to themisfortunes which had overtaken her less than two years ago. 

Her duties were comparatively light, consisting of reading to Mrs. Goddard, whenever she was in the mood for such entertainment; singingand playing to her when she was musically inclined; and accompanyingher upon drives and shopping expeditions, when she had no othercompany. 

Edith, however, was not long in the household before she made thediscovery that there was a skeleton in the family. At times Mr. Goddard was morose and irritable, and his wife displayed symptoms ofintense jealousy. About five weeks after Edith's installation in thehome, Mrs. Goddard's brother, Monsieur Correlli, a young sculptor, came there, on a visit to his sister. He was handsome and talented, and had come from France, to "do the United States, " during a longvacation. 

Mrs. Goddard was proud of her brother, and often attended receptionsand parties with him as her escort, and was delighted to show him offto her friends and acquaintances in the most select of Boston society. 

On returning to her home, after one of these receptions, she heardmerry laughter in the library. Listening attentively, she discoveredthat it emanated from her husband and Edith, who sometimes, at hisrequest, read to him during the frequent absences of his wife. 

The demon of jealousy at once took possession of her. Suddenlyentering the library she requested Edith to at once attend her in herboudoir. On arriving there the enraged woman gave way to her passionof jealousy. In blunt words she taunted the girl with attempting tosteal the affections of her husband, and closed her bitter commentswith the threat that "the woman who tried to win my husband from mewould never accomplish her purpose. _I would kill her!"_

Edith did her best to assure the angry woman that her suspicions wereunfounded, and in a little time Mrs. Goddard was half convinced thatshe had been too hasty in her accusations. 

That night the pure girl calmly deliberated upon the subject, andrecalled several occasions when Mr. Goddard had seemed to be deeplyabsorbed in the contemplation of her features, eyeing her with glancesof undisguised admiration and rapture. She determined, therefore, tobe a little more circumspect hereafter, and avoid giving him suchopportunities. 

Another trial awaited her about a week later. Emil Correlli had becomequite attentive to her, seeking every chance to be alone with her, showering compliments upon her, and extolling her charms. On one ofthese occasions he was bold enough to propose marriage, and, beforeshe could recover from her astonishment, had the effrontery to steal akiss from her unwilling lips. 

This bold affront, added to the previous unfounded accusations of Mrs. Goddard made Edith decide to leave the house at once. She announcedher decision to her mistress; but that lady, in great humiliation, begged her to overlook her brother's impetuosity, saying that hisconduct should be considered only "a tribute to her manifold charms, "and that hereafter she would have no cause for complaint of either himor her. 

The proud woman's deep contrition, and her earnest appeals, had theeffect intended, and Edith decided to remain. 

That evening a prolonged interview occurred between Mrs. Goddard andher brother. The result of it was that the sister agreed to do herutmost to place Edith beyond the reach of her husband by combining ascheme which would make her the bride of Emil Correlli. 

Some days elapsed, and then an incident worthy of record occurred. Edith had been out for a stroll, and, just as she was retracing hersteps along Commonwealth avenue, an elegant carriage came slowlyaround the corner. The driver was in dark green livery, and seemed tobe under the influence of stimulants. Suddenly he leaned sideways, andfell off the box, landing on the ground. 

Edith impulsively started forward, shouted "Whoa!" to the horses, andlifted the reins. The animals stopped immediately, and in a moment alovely face was thrust from the carriage window, and a sweet voiceasked, "Thomas, what is the matter?--what has happened?"

She stepped from the carriage and was soon informed of the accident, and its probable cause. She was a tall, elegantly-formed woman, ofperhaps forty-three years, with large, dark brown eyes and rich brownhair. Her skin was fair and flawless, as that of a girl of twenty, with a delicate flush upon her cheeks, and Edith thought her face themost beautiful she had ever seen. 

A policeman presently appeared upon the scene, and the lady requestedhim to secure some competent person who would drive the vehicle to itsstable. To secure attention to this request, she gave the policeman abank note, and named the location of the stable. She then said to thecoachman, who was engaged in brushing the dust from his clothing:

"Thomas, you may come to me at nine o'clock to-morrow morning--withoutthe carriage. "

As the coachman staggered off, the lady turned to Edith, thanked herfor the service she had performed, and gave her a card bearing a nameand address--"Mrs. I. G. Stewart, Copley Square Hotel, Boston, Mass. "

At the solicitation of the lady, Edith gave her name, and stated thatshe was the companion to Mrs. Gerald Goddard, of Commonwealth avenue. 

This information caused Mrs. Stewart to turn pale, and otherwisemanifest a strange agitation. She quickly recovered, however, andstated:

"Ah! I was introduced to Mrs. Goddard's brother, Monsieur Correlli, afew evenings ago, but I have never had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Goddard. Now it is time for me to go, and I shall have to take anelectric car to get back to my hotel. Again let me thank you for yourtimely service. I hope you and I will meet again some time; and, dear, if you should ever need a friend, do not fail to come to me. Good-afternoon. "

Shortly after the departure of Mrs. Stewart, as Edith was walkinghomeward, she was overtaken by Emil Correlli, who begged permission toattend her, as they were both bound for the same destination. It wouldhave been rude to refuse, so Edith consented, although she would havepreferred to go alone. 

They had not advanced far before Edith became aware that they werefollowed by a woman, who kept parallel with them, on the opposite sideof the street. Monsieur Correlli seemed unconscious of this fact, ashe was apparently engrossed in the effort to entertain his companionwith animated conversation. When they were within a few yards of Mrs. Goddard's residence, the woman suddenly darted across the avenue andplaced herself directly in their path. 

In an instant Emil Correlli seemed turned to stone, so motionless andrigid did he become. For a full minute his gaze was riveted upon thestranger, as if in horrible fascination. 

"_Giulia!_" he breathed, at last, in a scarcely audible voice. "_Lediable!_"

The woman had a veil over her face, but Edith could see that she wasvery handsome, with a warm, Southern kind of beauty, although it wasof a rather coarse type. She was evidently a foreigner, with brilliantblack eyes, an olive complexion, scarlet lips and cheeks, and a wealthof purple-black hair, which was coiled in a massive knot at the backof her head. 

She was of medium height, with a plump but exquisitely proportionedfigure, as was revealed by her closely-fitting garment of navy-bluevelvet. 

The moment Emil Correlli spoke her name, she burst passionately forth, and began to address him in rapidly uttered sentences of some foreignlanguage, which Edith could not understand. 

It was not French, for she could converse in that tongue, and she knewit was not German. She therefore concluded it must be either Italianor Spanish. 

As the girl talked, her eyes roved from the man's face to Edith's, with angry, jealous glances, while she gesticulated wildly with herhands, and her voice was fierce and intense with passion. 

She would not give Monsieur Correlli an opportunity to say one word, until she had exhausted her seemingly endless vocabulary; but he wasas colorless as a piece of his own statuary, and a lurid, desperatelight burned in his eyes--a gleam, which, if she had been less intentupon venting her own passion, would have warned her that she was doingher cause, whatever it might be, more harm than good by the course shewas adopting. 

At last she paused in her tirade, simply because she lacked breath togo on, when Emil Correlli replied to her, in her own tongue, and withequal fluency; but in tones that were both stern and authoritative, while it was evident that he was excessively annoyed by her sudden andunexpected appearance there. 

Finally, after another attempt upon the girl's part to carry herpoint, he stamped his foot imperatively, to emphasize some command, and, with a look which made her cringe like a whipped cur before him;when, shooting a glance of fire and hate at Edith, she turned away, with a crestfallen air, and went, dejectedly, down the street. 

Edith would have been glad, and had tried, to escape from this scene, for after the first moment of surprise upon being so unceremoniouslyconfronted by the beautiful stranger, she had stepped aside, ascendedthe steps, and rang the bell. 

But, for some reason, no one came to the door, and she was obliged torepeat the summons, but feeling very awkward to have to stand thereand listen to the altercation that was being carried on so near her, although she could not understand a word that was said. 

At last, just as Monsieur Correlli had delivered his authoritativecommand, the butler made his appearance, and let Edith in. 

Before she could enter, the woman was gone, and Emil Correlli sprangup the steps, and was by her side. 

He glanced anxiously down upon her face, which wore a grave andpre-occupied look. 

He knew that she was wondering who the fiery, but beautiful andrichly-dressed stranger was; knew that she could not fail to believethat there must be something suspicious and mysterious in hisrelations with her, and he was greatly exercised over the unfortunateencounter. 

He had set his heart upon winning her--he had vowed that nothingshould stand in the way of her becoming his wife, and now this--theworst of all things--had happened, to compromise him in her eyes, andhe secretly breathed the fiercest anathemas upon the head of themarplot who had just left them. 

Later that evening, Emil Correlli took the first opportunity toexplain the unfortunate _contretemps_ to the wondering Edith. Hestated that the girl was the daughter of an Italian florist, who hadaudaciously presumed to dun him for a small bill he owed her fatherfor floral purchases. 

This matter, satisfactorily explained, as he thought, he renewed hisprotestations of love to Edith, solicited her hand in marriage, andwas staggered by her emphatic refusal. 

Her refusal was reported to Mrs. Goddard by that lady's brother, andshe counseled him to be patient. 

"I have in mind, " she said, "the germ of a most cunning plot, whichmust succeed in your winning Edith Allen, " and then she proceeded tounfold her plan, which, for boldness, craft, and ingenuity, would havebeen worthy of a French _intriguante_ of the seventeenth century. 

"Anna, you are a trump!" Emil Correlli exclaimed, admiringly, when sheconcluded. "If you can carry that out as you have planned it, it willbe a most unique scheme--the best thing of its kind on record!"

"I can carry it out if you will let me do it in my own way; only youmust take yourself off. I will not have you here to run the risk ofspoiling everything, " said Mrs. Goddard, with a determined air. 

"Very well, then; I will go this very night. I will take the eleveno'clock express on the B. And A. I have such faith in your genius thatI am willing to be guided wholly by you, and trust my fate entirely inyour hands. "

"I can write you from time to time, as the plan develops, " shereplied, "and send you instructions regarding the final act. "

"All right, go ahead--I give you _carte blanche_ for your expenses, "said Monsieur Correlli, as he rose to leave the room. 

Five hours later, he was fast asleep in a Pullman berth, and flyingover the rails toward New York. 

Meanwhile Edith, who was inclined to leave the house, and throwherself upon the kindness of Mrs. Stewart, found her mistressunusually gracious, seeking her aid in forwarding invitations for areception, and in planning for what she called "a mid-winter frolic. "She also incidentally announced, to the great gratification of Edith, that Monsieur Correlli had hurriedly departed for New York, with theintention of being absent a considerable time. 

Little did Edith then suspect that she was assisting in a plan whichwas intended to force her into a detested marriage. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE HOUSEKEEPER AT WYOMING. 

The invitations for the merry-making were at length printed andforwarded to the favored guests, but the family were not to go toWyoming for a week or so, and meantime, Mrs. Goddard devoutly hopedthat the weather would change and send them a fine snowstorm, so thatthere would be good sleighing during their sojourn in the country. 

She had her wish--everything seemed to favor the schemes of thiscrafty woman, for, three days later, there came a severe storm, whichlasted as many more, and when at length the sun shone again there layon the ground more than a foot of snow on a level, thus giving promiseof rare enjoyment upon runners and behind spirited horses and musicalbells. 

At last the day of their departure arrived, and about ten o'clock, Mrs. Goddard and Edith, well wrapped in furs and robes, were drivenover the well-trodden roads, in a hansome sleigh, and behind a pair offine horses, toward Middlesex Falls. 

It was only about an hour's drive, and upon their arrival they foundthe Goddards' beautiful country residence in fine order, with blazingfires in several of the rooms. 

The housekeeper, Mrs. Weld, had attended to all the details ofpreparation, and was complimented by both Mr. And Mrs. Goddard. Inappearance the housekeeper was very peculiar, very tall and verystout, and in no way graceful in form or feature. Mrs. Goddard votedher as "a perfect fright, " with her eyes concealed behind large, dark-blue glasses. She had been employed through the agent of anintelligence office, and had come highly recommended. A close observerwould have noted many oddities about her; and Edith, coming suddenlyupon her in her own apartment, had reason to suspect that thehousekeeper was not what she seemed--in fact, that she was disguised. 

Noiselessly Mrs. Weld went about her duties, her footfalls dropping asquietly as the snow. On one occasion, arriving unexpectedly withinhearing of her master and mistress, she heard him entreating her togive him possession of a certain document. This Mrs. Goddard refuseduntil he had performed some act which, as it was apparent from theconversation, she had long been urging upon him as a duty. 

Fearing discovery, Mrs. Weld did not wait to hear more, but silentlywalked away. 

A few busy days succeeded, and then the guests began to arrive atWyoming. The housekeeper seemed to take a great fancy to Edith, andthe latter cheerfully assisted her in many ways. Various amusementswere planned for the guests. The weather was cold, but fine; thesleighing continued to be excellent, and the gay company at Wyomingkept up their exciting round of pleasure both day and night. 

A theatrical performance, planned by Mrs. Goddard, was one of theamusements arranged for the entertainment of the guests. On theafternoon of the day set for the presentation of the little dramaticepisode, a great packing case arrived from the city, and was takendirectly to madam's rooms. 

A few minutes later, Edith was requested to go to her, and, uponpresenting herself at the door of her boudoir, was drawn mysteriouslyinside, and the door locked. 

"Come, " said madam, with a curious smile, as she led the way into thechamber beyond, "I want you to assist me in unpacking something. "

"Certainly, I shall be very glad to help you, " the young girl replied, with cheerful acquiescence. 

"It is one of the costumes that is to be worn this evening, and mustbe handled very carefully, " Mrs. Goddard explained. 

As she spoke, she cut the cords binding the great box, and, liftingthe cover, revealed some articles enveloped in quantities of whitetissue paper. 

"Take it out!" commanded madam, indicating the upper package. 

Edith obeyed, and, upon removing the spotless wrappings, a beautifulskirt of white satin, richly trimmed with lace of an exquisitepattern, was revealed. 

"Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed the young girl, as shaking it carefullyout, she laid the dainty robe upon the bed. 

Next came the waist, or corsage, which was also a marvel of artistictaste and beauty. 

This was laid against the skirt when the costume, thus complete, was aperfect delight to the eye. 

"It looks like a bride's dress, " Edith observed, as she gazed, admiringly, upon it. 

"You are right! It is for the bride who figures in our play to-night, "said madam. "This must be the veil, I think, " she concluded, lifting alarge box from the case, and passing it to her companion. 

Edith removed the cover, and uttered an involuntary cry of delight, for before her there lay a great mass of finest tulle, made up into abridal veil, and surmounted by a coronet of white waxenorange-blossoms. 

An examination of two other boxes disclosed a pair of white satinboots, embroidered with pearls, and a pair of long white kid gloves. 

"Everything is exquisite, and so complete, " murmured Edith, as shelaid them all out beside the dress, and then stood gazing in wraptadmiration upon the outfit. 

"Yes, of course, the bride will be the most conspicuous figure--thecynosure of all eyes, in fact--so she would need to be as complete andperfect as possible, " Mrs. Goddard explained, but watching the girl, warily, out of the corners of her eyes. 

"Who is going to wear it?" Edith inquired, as she caressinglystraightened out a spray of orange blossoms that had caught in a meshof the lace. 

Madam's eyes gleamed strangely at the question. 

"Miss Kerby takes the part of the heroine of the play, " she answered, "whom, by the way, I called Edith, because I like the name so much. Idid not think you would mind. "

"Oh, no, " said the girl, absently. Then, with a little start, sheexclaimed, as she lifted something from the box from which the gloveshad been taken: "But what is this?"

It was a small half-circle of fine white gauze, edged with a fringe offrosted silver, while a tiny chain of the same material was attachedto each end. 

"Oh! that is the mask, " said Mrs. Goddard. 

"The mask?" repeated Edith, surprised. 

"Yes; I don't wonder you look astonished, to find such a thing amongthe outfit of a bride, " said madam, with a peculiar little laugh; "butalthough it is a profound secret to everybody outside the actors, Iwill explain it to you, as the time is so near. You understand this isa play that I have myself written. "

"Yes. "

"Well, I have entitled it 'The Masked Bridal, ' and it is a verycunningly devised plot, on the part of a pair of lovers whose obdurateparents refuse to allow them to marry, " Madam explained. "EdithLancaster is an American girl, and Henri Bernard is a Frenchman. Theyhave a couple of friends whose wedding is set for a certain date, andwho plan to help them outwit the parents of Edith and Henri. The sceneis, of course, laid in Paris, where everybody knows a marriage must becontracted in church. The friends of the two unfortunate lovers sendout their cards, announcing their approaching nuptials, and also thefact that they will both be masked during the ceremony. "

"How strange!" Edith murmured. 

"Yes, it is both a novel and an extravagant idea, " Mrs. Goddardassented; "but, of course, nobody minds that in a play--the moreextravagant and unreal, the better it suits the public nowadays. Well, the parents and friends of the couple naturally object to thisarrangement, but they finally carry their point. Everything isarranged, and the wedding-day arrives. Only the parents and a fewfriends are supposed to be present, and, at the appointed hour, thebridal party--consisting of the ushers and four bridesmaids, amaid-of-honor, and the bride, leaning upon her father's arm, proceedslowly to the altar, where they are met by the groom, best man, andclergyman. Then comes the ceremony, which seems just as real as if itwere a _bona-fide_ marriage, you know; and when the young couple turnto leave the church, as husband and wife, they remove their masks, andbehold! the truth is revealed. There is, of course, greatastonishment, and some dismay manifested on the part of the obdurateparents, who are among the invited guests; but the deed is done--itwould not do to make a scene or any disturbance in church, and so theyare forced to make the best of the affair, and accept the situation. "

"But what becomes of the couple who planned all this for theirfriends?" Edith inquired. 

"Oh, they were privately married half an hour earlier, and come in ata rear door just in season to follow the bridal party down the aisle, and join in the wedding-feast at home. "

"It is a very strange plot--a very peculiar conception, " murmuredEdith, musingly. 

"Yes, it is very Frenchy, and extremely unique, and will be carriedout splendidly, if nothing unforeseen occurs to mar the acting, forthe amateurs I have chosen are all very good. But now I must run downto see that everything is all right for the evening, before I dress. By the way, " she added, as if the thought had just occurred to her, "Iwould like you to put on something pretty, and come to help me in thedressing-room during the play. Have you a white dress here?"

"Yes; it is not a very modern one, but it was nice in its day, " Edithreplied. 

"Very well; I shall not mind the cut of it, if it is only white, " saidmadam. "Now I must run. You can ring for some one to take away thisrubbish, " she concluded, glancing at the boxes and papers that werestrewn about the room; then she went quickly out. 

Edith obeyed her, and remained until the room was once more in order, after which she went up to her own chamber to ascertain if the dress, of which she had spoken, needed anything done to it before it could beworn. 

Unpacking her trunk, she drew a box from the bottom, from which shetook a pretty Lansdown dress, which she had worn at the wedding of oneof her friends nearly two years previous. She had nice skirts, and apair of pretty white slippers to go with it, and although it was, asshe had stated, somewhat out of date, it was really a very daintycostume. 

She laid everything out upon the bed, in readiness for the evening, and then went down to her dinner, which she always took with thehousekeeper before the family meal was served. 

Edith found Mrs. Weld looking unusually nice--although she was alwaysa model of neatness in her attire--in a handsome black silk, withfolds of soft, creamy lace across her ample breast, while upon herhead she wore a fashionable lace cap, adorned with dainty bows ofwhite ribbon. 

"Oh! how very nice you are looking, " Edith exclaimed, as she enteredthe room. "What a lovely piece of silk your dress is made of, and yourcap is very pretty. "

"I do believe, " she added, to herself, "that she would be quite goodlooking if it were not for those horrid moles and dreadful blueglasses. "

"Thank you, child, " the woman responded, a queer little smile lurkingabout her mouth. "Of course, I had to make a special effort for suchan occasion as this. "

"If you would only take off your glasses, Mrs. Weld, " said the younggirl, as she leaned forward, trying to look into her eyes. "Couldn'tyou, just for this evening?"

"No, indeed, Miss Edith, " hastily returned the housekeeper, her colordeepening a trifle under the sallow tinge upon her cheeks. "With allthe extra lights, I should be blinded. "

"But you have such lovely eyes--"

"How do you know?" demanded Mrs. Weld, regarding her companioncuriously. 

"Partly by guess--partly by observation, " said Edith, laughing. "Letme prove it, " she continued, playfully, as she deftly captured theobnoxious spectacles, and then looked mischievously straight into thebeautiful but startled orbs thus disclosed. 

"Child! child! what are you doing?" exclaimed the woman, in a nervoustone, as she tried to get possession of her property again. "Pray, give them back to me at once. "

But Edith playfully evaded her, and clasped them in her hands behindher. 

"I knew it! I knew it!" she cried, in a voice of merry triumph. "Theyare remarkably beautiful, and no one would ever believe there wasanything the matter with them. Oh! I love such eyes as yours, Mrs. Weld--they are such a delicious color--so clear, so soft, andexpressive. "

And Edith, inspired by a sudden impulse, leaned forward and kissed thewoman on the forehead, just between the eyes which she had been soadmiring. 

Mrs. Weld seemed to be strangely agitated by this affectionate littleact. 

Tears sprang into her eyes, and her lips quivered with emotion for amoment. 

Then she put out her arms and clasped the beautiful girl in a fondembrace, and softly returned her caress. 

"You are a lovable little darling--every inch of you, " she said, withsudden fervor. 

"What a mutual admiration society we have constituted ourselves, Mrs. Weld! But, I am sure, I am very happy to know that there is some onein the world who feels so tenderly toward me. "

"No one who knew you could help it, my dear, " gently returned thewoman, "and I shall always remember you very tenderly, for you havebeen so kind and helpful to me in many ways since we have been here. I suppose the affair to-night will wind up the frolic here, " she wenton, thoughtfully. "You will go your way, I shall go mine, and we maynever meet again; but, I shall never forget you, Miss Allen--"

"Why, Mrs. Weld! how strangely you appear to-night!" Edithinvoluntarily interposed. "You do not seem like yourself. "

"I know it, child; but the Goddards expect to return to townto-morrow, and I may not have an opportunity to see you again alone, "returned the housekeeper, with a strange smile. "I do not want you toforget me, either, " she went on, drawing a little box from her pocket, "so I am going to give you a souvenir to take away with you, if youwill do me the favor to accept it. "

She slipped the tiny box into Edith's hand as she concluded. 

More and more surprised, the fair girl opened it, and uttered a lowcry of admiration as she beheld its contents. Within, on a bed ofspotless cotton, there lay a gold chain of very delicate workmanship, and suspended from it, by the stem, as fresh and green, apparently, asif it had that moment been plucked from its native soil, was ashamrock, in the heart of which there gleamed a small diamond ofpurest water. 

"Why, Mrs. Weld, how beautiful!" exclaimed Edith, flushing withpleasure; "but--but--isn't the gift a little extravagant for me?"

"You are worthy of a stone ten times the size of that, " said hercompanion, smiling; "but, if you mean to imply that I haveimpoverished myself to purchase it for you, do not fear; for it was alittle ornament that I used to wear when I was a girl, so it costs menothing but the pleasure of giving it to you. "

"Thank you, a thousand times!" returned the happy girl, with startingtears, "and I shall prize it all the more for that very reason. Now, pray pardon me, " she added, flushing, as she returned the glasses shehad so playfully captured, "I am afraid I was a little rude to removethem without your permission. "

"Never mind, dear; you have done no harm, " said the housekeeper, asshe restored them to their place. "Come, now, we must have our dinner, or I shall be late, and there must be no mistakes to-night, of alltimes. "

When the meal was finished, Mrs. Weld hastened away to attend to hernumerous duties, while Edith went slowly upstairs to dress herself forthe evening. 

"There is something very, very queer about Mrs. Weld, " she mused. "Ido not believe she is what she appears at all. She has come into thishouse for some mysterious purpose--as mysterious, I believe, as thepeople who have employed her. "

CHAPTER X. 

"THE GIRL IS DOOMED!--SHE HAS SEALED HER OWN FATE!"

Edith looked very lovely when her toilet for the evening wascompleted. 

We have never seen her in any but very ordinary costumes, for she hadworn mourning for her dear ones for two years, but if she wasattractive in these somber garments, symbols of her sorrows, she was ahundred-fold more so in the spotless and dainty dress which was almostthe only souvenir that she possessed of those happy, beautiful dayswhen she had lived in a Fifth avenue palace, and was the petteddarling of fortune. 

There was not a single ornament about her, excepting the pretty chainand diamond-hearted shamrock which Mrs. Weld had that evening given toher, and which she had involuntarily kissed before clasping it abouther neck. 

Mrs. Goddard had commissioned her to superintend the dressing-rooms, to see that the maids provided everything needful for the comfort ofher guests and to look in upon them occasionally and ascertain ifthey were attending to their duties, until everybody had arrived;after which she was to come to her behind the scenes in thecarriage-house. 

Thus, after her toilet was completed, she descended to the secondfloor, to see that these orders were carried out. 

In the ladies' dressing-rooms, she found everything in the nicestpossible order, and then passed on to those allotted to the gentlemen, in one of which she found that the maids had neglected to providedrinking water. 

She was upon the point of leaving the room to have the matter attendedto, when Mr. Goddard, attired in full evening dress, even to gloves, entered. 

"Where is Mollie?" he inquired, but with a visible start of surprise, as he noticed Edith's exceeding loveliness. 

"I think she is in one of the other rooms, " she replied. "Shall I callher for you?"

"Yes, if you please; or--" with a lingering glance ofadmiration--"perhaps you will help me with these gloves. I find ittroublesome to button them. "

"Certainly, " replied the young girl, but flushing beneath his look, and, taking the silver button-hook from him, she proceeded to performthe simple service for him, but noticed, while doing so, the taint ofliquor on his breath. 

"Thank you, " he said, appreciatively, when the last button wasfastened. Then bending lower to look into her eyes, he added, softly:"How lovely you are to-night, Miss Edith!"

She drew herself away from him, with an air of offended dignity, andwould have passed from the room had he not placed himself directly inher way, thus cutting off her escape. 

"Nay, nay, pretty one; do not be so shy of me, " he went on, insinuatingly. "Why have you avoided me of late? We have not had oneof our cozy social chats for a long time. Did madam's unreasonable fitof jealousy that day in the library frighten you? Pray, do not mindher--she has always been like that ever since--well, for many years. "

"Mr. Goddard! I beg you will cease. I cannot listen to you!" criedEdith. "Let me pass, if you please. I have an order to give one of thehousemaids. "

"Tut! tut! little one; the order can wait, and it is not kind of youto fly at me like that. I have been drawn toward you ever since youcame into the family, and every day only serves to strengthen thespell that you have been weaving about me. Come now, tell me that youwill try to return my fondness for you--"

"Mr. Goddard! what is the meaning of this strange language? You haveno right to address me thus; it is an insult to me--a wicked wrongagainst your wife--"

"My wife!" the man burst forth, mockingly, and with a strangely bitterlaugh. 

A frown contracted his brow, and his lips were compressed into avindictive line, as he again bent toward the fair girl. 

"I do not love her, " he said, hoarsely; "she has killed all myaffection for her by her infernally variable moods, her jealousy, hervanity, and her inordinate passion for worldly pleasure, to theexclusion of all home responsibilities. Moreover--"

"I must not listen to you! Oh! let me go!" cried Edith, in a voice ofdistress. 

Before Edith was aware of his intention, he bent his lips close to herface, and whispered something, in swift sentences, that made hershrink from him with a sudden cry of mingled pain and dismay, andcover her ears with her pretty hands. 

"I do not believe it!" she panted; "oh! I cannot believe it. I am sureyou do not know what you are saying, Mr. Goddard. "

Her words appeared to arouse him to a sense of the fact that he wascompromising himself most miserably in her estimation. 

"No, I don't suppose you can, " he muttered, a half-dazed expression onhis face; "and I've no business to be telling you any such things. But, all the same, I am very fond of you, pretty one, and I do notbelieve this is any place for you. You are too fair and sweet toserve a woman with such a disposition as madam possesses, and I wishyou would leave her when we go back to the city. I know you are poor, and have no friends upon whom you can depend; but I would settle acomfortable annuity upon you, so that you could be independent, andmake a pretty little home for your--"

"How dare you talk to me like this? Do you think I have no pride--noself-respect?" Edith demanded, as she haughtily threw back her proudhead and confronted the man with blazing eyes. 

Her act and the flash of the diamond attracted his attention to thelittle chain and shamrock upon her breast. 

The sight seemed to paralyze him for a moment, for he stood like oneturned to marble. 

"Where did you get it?" he at last demanded, in a scarcely, audiblevoice, as he pointed a trembling finger at the jewel. "Tell me!--tellme! how came you by it?"

Edith regarded him with astonishment. 

Involuntarily she put up her hand and covered the ornament from hisgaze. 

"It was given to me, " she briefly replied. 

"Who gave it to you?"

"A friend. "

"Was it your--a relative?" cried the man, in a hoarse whisper. 

"No, it was simply a friend. "

"Tell me who!"

Edith thought a moment. If she should tell Mr. Goddard that theshamrock had been given to her by the housekeeper, it might subjectthe woman to an unpleasant interview with the master of the house, and, perhaps, place her in a very awkward position. 

She resolved upon the only course left--that of refusing to reveal thename of the giver. 

"All that I can tell you, Mr. Goddard, " she gravely said, at last, "isthat the chain and ornament were given to me very recently by an agedfriend--"

"Aged!" the man interposed, eagerly. 

"Yes, by a person who must be at least sixty years of age, " the younggirl replied. 

"Ah!" The ejaculation was one of supreme relief. "Excuse me, MissAllen!" he continued, in a more natural manner than he had yet spoken. "I did not mean to be curious, but--a--a person whom I once knew hadan ornament very similar to the one you wear--"

He was interrupted just at this point by the sound of a rich, mellowlaugh that echoed down the hall like a strain of sweetest music;whereupon Gerald Goddard jumped as if some one had dealt him a heavyblow on the back. 

"Good Heaven! who was that?" he cried, with livid lips. 

But Edith, taking advantage of the diversion, glided swiftly from theroom, telling herself that nothing could induce her to dwell with thefamily a single day after their return to the city, and that she wouldtake care not to come in contact with Mr. Goddard again--at least tobe alone with him--while she did remain with his wife. 

The man stood motionless for a moment after her departure, as ifwaiting for the sound, which had so startled him, to be repeated. 

But it was not, and going to the door, he peered into the hall to seewho was there. 

There was no one visible save the housekeeper, who just at thatmoment, accosted a housemaid, to whom she appeared to be giving somedirections. 

"Ah! it was only one of the guests, " he muttered, "but the voice waswonderfully like--like--Ugh!"

He waited a few moments longer, trying to compose his nerves, whichhad been sadly unstrung, both by the wine he had drank in much largerquantities than usual, and the incidents that had just occurred, andthen sought his own room, where he rang for a brandy-and-soda, andafter taking it, went below to attend to his duties as host. 

But neither he nor Edith dreamed that their recent interview had beenobserved by a third party, or had seen the white, convulsed face thathad been looking in upon them, between the blinds at one of thewindows, near which they had been standing. 

Anna Goddard had sought her own room, directly after dinner, to makesome little change in her toilet, and get her gloves, which she hadleft lying upon her dressing case. 

As she opened the door of her boudoir she came very near givingutterance to a scream of fear upon coming face to face with a man. 

The man was Emil Correlli, who had gained entrance to the apartment byclimbing the vine trellis which led to the window. His secret returnwas in accordance with a plan previously agreed upon. 

He informed his sister that he had sent a card of invitation to Mrs. Stewart of the Copley Square Hotel. 

"I am glad you did, " she responded; "I have long desired to meet her. "

They then proceeded to discuss the important event of the evening, andMrs. Goddard assured him that their plot was progressing admirably. Still, she manifested a twinge of remorse as she thought of thedespicable trick she had devised against the fair girl whom herbrother was so eager to possess. 

"Anna, you must not fail me now!" he exclaimed, "or I will neverforgive you! The girl must be mine, or--"

"Hush!" she interposed, holding up her finger to check him. "Did someone knock?"

"I heard nothing. "

"Wait, I will see, " she said, and cautiously opened the door. No onewas there. 

"It was only a false alarm, " she murmured, glancing down the hall;then she started, as if stung, as she caught sight of two figures inthe room diagonally opposite hers. 

Her face grew ghastly, but her eyes blazed with a tiger-like ferocity. 

She closed the door noiselessly, then with stealthy, cat-likemovements, she stole toward the French door, leading out upon theveranda, throwing a long mantle over her light dress and bareshoulders. Then she passed out, and crept along the veranda toward awindow of the room where her husband and Edith were talking. 

She could see them distinctly through the slats of the blinds, whichwere movable--could see the man bending toward the graceful girl, whomshe had never seen so beautiful as now, his face eager, a wistfullight burning in his eyes, while his lips moved rapidly with the talethat he was pouring into her ears. 

She could not hear a word, but her jealous heart imputed the veryworst to him. 

She could see that Edith repudiated him--that she was indignant anddismayed; but this circumstance did not soothe her in the least. 

It was enough to arouse all the worst elements of her fiery nature toknow that the girl's charms were alluring the man whom she worshiped, and a very demon of jealousy and hatred possessed her. 

She watched them until she saw her husband give that guilty start, ofwhich Edith took advantage to escape, and then, her hands clencheduntil the nails almost pierced the tender flesh, her lipsconvulsed--her whole face distorted with passion and pain, she turnedfrom the spot. 

"I have no longer any conscience, " she hissed, as she sped swiftlyback to her room. "The girl is doomed--she has sealed her own fate. Asfor him--if I did not love him so, I would--"

A shudder completed her sentence, but smoothing her face, she removedher wraps, and went to tell her brother that she must go below, butwould have his dinner sent up immediately. 

Then drawing on her gloves, she hastened down to join her guests inthe drawing-room. 

CHAPTER XI. 

"NOW MY VINDICATION AND TRIUMPH WILL BE COMPLETE!"

When Anna Goddard descended to her spacious and elegant parlors, herface was wreathed with the brightest smiles, which, alas! covered andconcealed the bitterness and anger of her corrupt heart, even whileshe circulated among her friends with apparently the greatestpleasure, and with her usual charm and grace and manner. 

After a short time spent socially, the guests repaired to the spaciouscarriage-house, where the theatrical performance was to take place, tosecure the most desirable seats for the play, before the multitudefrom outside should arrive. 

The place had been very handsomely decorated, and lighted byelectricity, for the occasion. Potted flowers, palms, and ferns wereartistically grouped in the corners, and handsome draperies were hunghere and there to simulate windows and doors, and to conceal whatevermight otherwise have been unsightly. 

The floor had been covered with something smooth, linoleum oroilcloth, and then thoroughly waxed, for after the play was over, theplace was to be cleared for dancing. 

Across one end, a commodious stage had been erected, although this wasat present concealed by a beautiful drop-curtain of crimson felt, bordered with old gold. 

The room filled rapidly, and long before the time for the curtain toascend, every seat was occupied. 

At eight o'clock, precisely, the signal was given, and the play began. 

Programs had been distributed among the audience--dainty little cardsof embossed white and gold they were, too--announcing the title, "TheMasked Bridal, " giving the names of the participants, and promisingthat the affair would close with a genuine surprise to every one. 

The piece opened in an elegantly appointed library, with a spiritedscene and dialogue between a young couple, who were desirous ofmarrying, and the four objecting parents. 

The actors all rendered their parts well, the heroine being especiallypretty and piquant, and winning the admiration and sympathy of theaudience at the outset. 

In the next scene the unfortunate young couple are represented asplotting with two other lovers, whose wedding-day is set, tocircumvent their obdurate parents, and carry out their determinationto become husband and wife. 

This also was full of energy and interest, several bright hits andwitticisms being cleverly introduced, and the curtain went down amidenthusiastic applause; then, while the stage settings were beingchanged for the final act and the church wedding, some music wasintroduced, both vocal and instrumental, to while away the time. 

Edith, who had assisted madam in the dressing-room as long as she wasneeded, had come outside, at the beginning of the scene, and stationedherself at the back of the room to watch the progress of the play. 

But she had been there only for a few moments when some one touchedher on the shoulder to attract her attention. 

Glancing around, she saw a young girl, one of the guests in the house, who remarked:

"Mrs. Goddard wished me to tell you to come to her at once in herboudoir. Please be quick, as the matter is important. "

Edith immediately glided from the room, but wondering what could havehappened that madam should want her in her own apartments, when shesupposed her to be behind the scenes. 

Meantime, while the guests were being entertained with the play ofwhich their hostess was the acknowledged author, a mysterious scenewas being enacted within the mansion. 

When the hour for the entertainment drew near, the house, as we know, had been emptied of its guests, until only the housekeeper, thebutler, and the other servants remained as occupants. 

The butler had been instructed to keep ward and watch below, whileMrs. Weld went upstairs, ostensibly to ascertain that everything wasas it should be there, but in reality, to carry out a project of herown. 

Seeking the maids, who, since they had no duties at that particularmoment to occupy them, had gathered in the dressing-rooms, and werediscussing the merits of the various costumes which they had seen, sheremarked, in her kindly, good-natured way:

"Girls, I am sure you would like a peep at the play, and Mrs. Goddardgave me permission to send you out, if you could be spared. I willlook after everything up here, and you may go now, if you like, onlybe sure to hurry back the moment it is over, for you will then beneeded again. "

They were of course delighted with this privilege, but Mollie, who wasan unusually considerate girl, and always willing to oblige others, inquired:

"Wouldn't you like to see the play, Mrs. Weld? I will stay and let yougo. "

"No, thank you, child. I had enough of such things years ago, " thehousekeeper returned, indifferently. "Run along, all of you, so as tobe there when the curtain goes up. "

And the girls, only too eager for the sport, needing no secondbidding, sped away, thanking her heartily for the privilege. 

Thus the upper portion of the mansion was entirely deserted, but forthe housekeeper and the unsuspected presence of Emil Correlli, who waslocked within his own room, awaiting from his sister the signal forhis appearance upon the stage below. 

The moment the housemaids were beyond hearing, Mrs. Weld gaveutterance to a long sigh of relief, whipped off her blue spectacles, and with a swift, noise-less step, wholly unlike her usual waddlinggait, hurried down the hall, and into Mrs. Goddard's room, carefullyclosing and locking the door after her. 

Proceeding to the dressing-room, a quick, searching glance showed herthe object she was looking for--my lady's jewel-casket, standing wideopen upon a small, marble-top table near a full-length mirror. 

It had been rifled of most of its contents, madam herself having wornmany of her jewels, while others had been loaned to the actors toembellish their costumes for the play. 

"Ah! my task is made much easier than I expected, " murmured the woman, as she peered curiously into the velvet-lined receptacle. 

She saw only an empty tray, which she carefully removed, only to findanother exactly like it underneath. 

This also she took out, revealing the bottom of the box, covered withits velvet cushion, upon which there were indentations, to receive afull set of jewelry, necklace, bracelets, tiara, brooch and ear-rings. 

The housekeeper's face was ghastly pale, or would have been but forthe stain which gave her complexion its olive tinge, and she wastrembling with excitement. 

"She surely took that paper from this box, " she muttered, a note ofdisappointment in her voice, as if she had expected to find what shesought upon removing the second tray. 

"I wonder if this cushion can be removed?" she continued, as she triedto lift it from its place. 

But it fitted so closely that she could not stir it. 

Looking around the room for something to assist her in this effort, she espied a pair of scissors on the dressing-case. 

Seizing them, she attempted to pry up the cushion with them. 

It was not an easy thing to do, without defacing the velvet, but, atlength, she succeeded in lifting one side, when she found nodifficulty in removing the whole thing. 

Her agitation increased as her glance fell upon several papers snuglypacked in the bottom of the box. 

"Ah! if it should prove to be something of no account to me!" shebreathed, with trembling lips. 

At last she straightened herself with sudden resolution, and puttingher hand into the box drew forth the uppermost paper. 

It was yellow with time, and so brittle that it cracked apart in oneof the creases as she opened it; but paying no heed to this, shestepped to the dressing-case, and spread it out before her, while hereager eyes swept the mystic page from top to bottom. 

Then a cry that ended in a great sob burst from her hueless lips. 

"It is! it is!" she gasped, in voiceless agitation. "Ah, Heaven, thouart gracious to me at last! Now, I know why she would not surrender itto him--now I know what the condition of its ransom must have been!

"How long has she had it, I wonder? and when did she first learn ofits existence?" she murmured. "Ah! but it does not matter--I have itat last--I, who dared not hope for its existence, believing it musthave been destroyed, until the other day; and now"--throwing back herhead with an air that was very expressive--"my vindication and triumphwill be complete!"

With the greatest care, she refolded the paper, after which sheimpulsively pressed it to her lips; then, putting it away in herpocket, she turned back to the jewel-casket, and peered curiously intoit once more. 

"I wonder what other intrigues she has been guilty of?" she muttered, regarding its contents with a frown. 

She laid her hand upon one of the papers, as if to remove it, thendrew back. 

"No, " she said, "I will touch nothing else; I have what I came toseek, and have no right to meddle with what does not concern me. Lether keep her other vile secrets to herself; my victory is alreadycomplete. "

She replaced the velvet cushion, pressing it hard down into itsplace. 

She then restored the trays as she had found them, but did not closethe casket, since she had found it open. 

She retraced her steps into the boudoir, where, as she was passingout, she trod upon something that attracted her attention. 

She stooped to ascertain what it was, and discovered a gentleman'sglove. 

"Ah, " she said, as she picked it up and examined it, "I should say itbelongs to madam's brother! In that case, he must have returned thisevening to attend the grand finale, although I am sure he was not atthe dinner-table. "

She dropped the glove upon the floor where she had found it, but therewas a look of perplexity upon her face as she did so. 

"It seems a little strange, " she mused, "that the young man shouldhave been away all this time; and if he was to return at all, I cannotunderstand why there should have been this air of secrecy about it. Hehas evidently been in this room to-night, but I am sure he has notbeen seen about the house. "

She opened the door and passed out into the hall, when she wasstartled to hear the voice of Mrs. Goddard talking, in the hall below, with the butler. 

Mrs. Weld quietly slipped across to the room opposite--the same one inwhich Edith and Mr. Goddard had held their interview earlier in theevening--where, seating herself under a light, she caught up a bookfrom the table, and pretended to be deeply absorbed in its contents. 

A moment later, madam, having ascended the stairs, came hurrying downthe hall, and saw her there. 

She started. 

It would never do for the woman to suspect the truth regarding whatshe was about to do. 

No one must dream that Edith was not lending herself willingly to thelast scene in the drama of the evening, and she expected to have somedifficulty in persuading her to take the part. 

There must be no possibility of any one hearing any objections thatshe might make, for, in that case, the charge of fraud could bebrought and proved against her and her brother, after all was over. 

But after the first flash of dismay, the cunning woman devised ascheme which would take the housekeeper out of her way, and leave thefield clear for her operations. 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE MASKED BRIDAL. 

"Oh, Mrs. Weld!" Mrs. Goddard exclaimed, in tones of well-assumedeagerness. "I am so glad you are here! I fear I have taken cold and amgoing to have a chill; will you be so good as to go down and mix me ahot lemonade and send it out behind the stage to me? for I must goback directly, and I will drink it there. "

The housekeeper arose at once and went out into the hall, where shesaw that madam appeared excited and trembling, while her face was verypale, although her eyes were unusually bright. 

Somehow, she did not believe her to be ill; but she cheerfully accededto her request, and went directly below to attend to her commission. 

As she passed down the back stairs, Edith came hurrying up the frontway. 

"What has happened?" she inquired, as she observed madam's unusualexcitement. 

"The most unfortunate thing that could occur, " she nervously replied. "Miss Kerby and her brother, who had the leading parts in the play, have just been summoned home, by telegraph, on account of sickness inthe family, and that leaves us without our hero and heroine. "

"That is unfortunate, surely; the play will have to be given up, Isuppose?" Edith remarked. 

"No, indeed! I should die of mortification!" cried madam, withwell-assumed consternation. 

"But what can you do?" innocently inquired the young girl. 

"The only thing to be done is to supply their places with others, " wasthe ready answer. "I have a gentleman friend who will take Mr. Kerby'splace, and I want you, Edith, to assume the part of the bride; you arejust about the size of Alice Kerby, and the costume will fit you toperfection. "

"But I am afraid I cannot--I never took part in a play in my life, "objected Edith, who instinctively shrank from becoming so conspicuousbefore such a multitude of people. 

"Nonsense! there is but very little for you to do, " said madam, "youhave simply to walk into the church, upon the arm of the supposedbride's father. You will be masked, and no one will see your faceuntil after all is over, and you have not a word to say, except torepeat the marriage service after the clergyman. "

Edith shivered, and her face had grown very pale. She did not like theidea at all; it was exceedingly repugnant to her. 

"I wish you could find some one else, " she said, appealingly. 

"There is no time, " said madam. 

"Oh! but it seems almost like sacrilege to me, to stand before such anaudience and repeat words so solemn and significant, when they willmean nothing, when the whole thing will be but a farce, " Edithtremulously remarked. 

A strange expression swept over madam's face at this objection. 

"You are absurdly conscientious, Edith, " she coldly observed. "Thereis not another girl in the house upon whom I can call--they are alltoo large or too small, and the bridal costume would not fit one ofthem. Pray, pray, Miss Allen, pocket your scruples, for once, and helpme out of this terrible predicament--the whole affair will be ruinedby this awkward _contretemps_ if you do not, and I, who have promisedso much to my friends, shall become the laughing-stock of every onepresent. "

Still the fair girl hesitated. 

Some unaccountable influence seemed to be holding her back, and yetshe felt that it would be very ungenerous, very disobliging of her, toallow Mrs. Goddard to be so humiliated before her hundreds of guests, when this apparently slight concession upon her part would smootheverything over so nicely. 

"Oh, Edith! say you will!" cried the woman, appealingly. "You must!"she added, imperatively. "Come to my room--the costume is there allready, and we will soon have you dressed. "

She threw her arm around the girl's slender waist and almost compelledher to accompany her. 

The moment they were within Mrs. Goddard's chamber, the womannervously began to unfasten the young girl's dress, but her fingerstrembled so with excitement, showing how wrought up she was, thatEdith yielded without further demur, and assisted in removing herclothing. 

"That is good of you, dear, " said madam, smiling upon her, "for wemust work very rapidly while the scenery is being changed--we havejust fifteen minutes"--glancing at the clock. "How fortunate it isthat I asked you to wear white this evening!" the crafty womanremarked, as Edith's dress was removed, thus revealing her daintyunderwear, "for you are all ready for the wedding costume without anyother change. Here, dear, just help me, please, with this skirt, forthe train is so long it needs to be handled with care. "

She lifted the beautiful satin skirt from the bed as she spoke, andtogether they carefully slipped it over the young girl's head. 

The next moment it was fastened about her waist, and the lustrousmaterial fell around her slender form in graceful and artistic folds. 

The corsage was then put on and--wonderful to relate--it fitted her toperfection. 

"How strange! one would almost think it was made for me!" sheremarked, all unsuspicious that her measure had been accurately takenfrom a dress that had been left in the city. 

"Ha! ha!" laughed madam, in musical exultation, "I should say that itwas a very fortunate coincidence, and it shows that I made a wisechoice when I selected you to take Miss Kerby's place. I did not knowwho else to call upon--of course I could not go out into the audienceto find some one, and thus betray my predicament to everybody; neithercould I take one of the housemaids, because she would have been sureto blunder and be so awkward. Oh! isn't this dress just lovely?"

Thus madam chattered, while she worked, wholly unlike herself, nervous, anxious, and covertly watching every expression of Edith'ssensitive face. 

But the girl did not have the slightest suspicion that she was beingtricked. 

The emergency of the moment appeared sufficient to tax the nerves ofany one to the utmost, and she attributed everything to that. 

"It certainly is a very rich and elegant costume, " Edith gravelyresponded to the woman's query. "It seems to me to be far too nice andelaborate for the occasion. "

Mrs. Goddard reddened slightly, and shot a quick, searching look atthe girl's face. 

"Well, of course it had to be nice to correspond with everythingelse, " she explained, "for all the other young ladies are to weartheir ball costumes, which are very elegant, and since the bride is tobe the most conspicuous of all, it would not do to have her lessrichly attired. There!"--as she fastened a beautiful cluster oforange-blossoms to the corsage and stepped back to study theeffect--"aren't you just lovely in it?"

"Now the veil, " she continued, catching it up from the bed. "Oh!"--with an expression of dismay--"we have forgotten the boots, andyou must not sit down to crush the dress. Here, support yourself uponthis chair, hold out your foot, and I will put them on for you. "

And the haughty woman went down upon her knees and performed themenial service, regardless, in her excitement, of her own elegantcostume, which was being crushed in the act. 

Then the veil was adjusted, madam chatting all the while to keep thegirl's attention, and Edith, catching a glimpse of her reflection inthe glass and under the influence of her companion's magnetism andenthusiasm, began to be imbued with something of the spirit of theoccasion and to enjoy seeing herself adorned with these beautifulgarments, which so enhanced her beauty. 

When everything was done, madam stood back to look at her work, anduttered an exclamation of delight. 

"Oh! you are simply perfect, Edith!" she said. "You are just toolovely for anything! Miss Kerby would not have made nearly sobeautiful a bride, and--and--I could almost wish that you were reallygoing to be married. "

"Oh, no!" cried the fair girl, shrinking back from the strange gleamthat shone from the woman's eyes, as she made this remark, while herthoughts flew, with the speed of light and with a yearning so intensethat it turned her white as snow, to Royal Bryant, the man to whom, all unasked, she had given her heart. 

Then, as if some instinct had accused her of unmaidenly presumption, aflush, that was like the rosy dawn upon the eastern sky, suffused herfair face, neck, and bosom. 

"Ha! ha! not if you could marry the man of your choice?" queriedmadam, with a gleam of malice in her dark eyes and a strange note oftriumph in her silvery laugh that again caused her companion to regardher curiously. 

"Oh! please do not jest about it in this light way--marriage is toosacred to be treated with levity, " said Edith, in a tremulous tone. "But where is the mask?" she added, glancing anxiously toward the bed. "You know you said the face of the bride was not to be seen. "

"Here it is, " responded madam, snatching the dainty thing from thebed. "See! it goes on under the veil, like this"--and she dextrouslyslipped the silver-fringed piece of gauze beneath the edge of the veiland fastened the chain under the orange-wreath behind. 

The fringe fell just to Edith's chin, thus effectually concealing herfeatures, while it was not thick enough to prevent her seeing, distinctly, everything about her. 

A few other details were attended to, and then Mrs. Goddard hurriedlysaid:

"Come, now, we must hasten, " and she gathered up the voluminous trainand laid it carefully over Edith's arm. "We shall have to go the backway, through the billiard-room, because no one must see you until youappear upon the stage. "

The carriage-house adjoined the mansion, and was connected with it bya door, at the end of a hall, that opened into a large room over itwhich had been devoted to billiards. 

In the rear of this there was a stairway, which led down to the firstfloor and behind the stage; thus Madam and Edith were enabled to reachthe dressing-room without being seen by any one, and just as theorchestra were playing the closing bars of the last selection beforethe raising of the curtain. 

Here they found a tall, elderly gentleman, in full evening dress, whowas to represent the supposed bride's father in giving his child awayto the groom. 

All the other actors were already grouped upon the stage or in theirrespective places behind the scenes awaiting the coming of the bride. 

Outside, the audience were all upon the _qui vive_, for, not only wasthe closing act of the very clever play looked forward to with muchinterest, for its own sake, but the genuine surprise promised them wasa matter for much curious conjecture and eager anticipation. 

As Edith stepped upon the stage, leaning upon the arm of her escort, the bridesmaids and maid of honor filed into place before them fromthe wings, and all were ready for the _grand finale_ just as thesignal was given for the curtain to go up. 

A shiver ran over Edith, shaking her from head to foot as that sharp, incisive sound from the silver bell went ringing through the room. 

For, as she had stepped upon the stage and Mrs. Goddard laid her handupon the arm of the elderly gentleman, she had observed the twoexchange meaning smiles, while the maids and ushers, as they had filedinto place, had regarded her with marked and admiring curiosity. 

The curtain was raised, revealing to the appreciative audience theinterior of a beautiful little church. 

It was perfect and complete in all its appointments, even to thestained glass windows, the altar, the chancel, the organ, and theexquisite floral decorations suitable for a wedding ceremony. 

Simultaneously with this revelation there broke upon the ear and thebreathless hush that prevailed throughout the rooms the sound of anorgan playing the customary wedding-march. 

Presently, at the rear of the church, a door opened, and four ushersentered, "with stately tread and slow, " followed by as manybridesmaids, dressed in exquisite costumes. 

Then came the maid of honor, clad in pale-blue satin, and carrying ahuge bunch of pink roses that contrasted beautifully with her daintytoilet. 

Next, the veiled and masked bride appeared, leaning upon the arm ofher attendant and clasping a costly bouquet of white orchids, whichMrs. Goddard had produced from some mysterious source, and thrust intoher hands at the last moment. 

A thrill of awe, mingled with intensest curiosity, pervaded theaudience as the graceful figure of the beautiful girl came slowly intoview. 

The whole affair was so vividly real and impressive that every onewatched the scene with breathless interest. 

And now, at one side of the chancel, another door was seen to open, when a spotlessly-gowned clergyman, followed by the groom and bestman, entered and proceeded slowly toward the altar. 

The two men behind the minister were in full evening dress, the onlypeculiar thing noticeable being the mask of black gauze edged withsilver fringe which the groom wore over his face. 

They reached the altar at the same moment that the rest of the bridalparty paused before it. 

Then, as the clergyman turned his face toward the audience and thelight from the chandelier above him fell full upon him, a flutter ofexcitement ran throughout the room, while many persons were seen toexchange glances of undisguised astonishment, for they had recognizeda popular young divine--the pastor of a church, which many of thosepresent, together with their hostess, were in the habit of attending. 

What could it mean?

Surely, no ordained minister who respected himself and reverenced hiscalling would lend himself to a sensational farce, such as they hadwitnessed that evening--at least, to carry it to such an extent as toread, in mockery, the service of the sacred ordinance of marriage overa couple of giddy actors!

There was a nervous, fluttering of programs, a restless movement amongthe fashionable throng, which betrayed that, however much they mightbe given to pleasure and levity in certain directions, they could notquite countenance this perversion of a divine institution as a matterof amusement. 

The manner and bearing of the man, however, was most reverential anddecorous, and, as he opened and began to read from the elegantprayer-book which he carried in his hands, a breathless hush againsettled upon every person in the room. 

For, like a flash, it had seemed to burst upon every mind that therewas to be a _bona fide_ marriage--that this was to be the "GenuineSurprise" that had been promised them!

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE DASTARDLY PLOT IS REVEALED. 

Every thought and feeling was now merged in intense interest andcuriosity regarding the participants in the strange union, which wasbeing consummated before them. Who was the beautiful bride, so perfectin form, so graceful in bearing, so elegantly and richly adorned?

Who the strange groom?

The parts of the plotting lovers of the play had hitherto been takenby the brother and sister--Walter and Alice Kerby, who were well-knownin society. 

But of course every one reasoned that they could not both officiate asprincipals in the scene now being enacted before them. 

The figure and bearing of that veiled bride upon the stage weresimilar to that of Miss Kerby; but that young lady was known to beengaged to a young lawyer who was now seated with the audience;therefore, no one, who knew her, believed for a moment that she couldbe personating the masked bride now standing before the altar, whilethe groom beside her was neither so stout nor as tall as Walter Kerby. 

The ceremony proceeded, according to the Episcopal form, although theyoung minister was known to be a Universalist, and when he reached thecharge, calling for any one "who could show just cause why the twobefore him should not be joined in lawful wedlock, to speak or foreverhold his peace, " those sitting nearest the stage were startled to seethe bride shiver, from head to foot, while a deadly pallor seemed tosettle over that portion of her face that was visible, and to evenextend over her neck. 

The service went on without any interruption, the groom making theresponses in clear, unfaltering tones, although those of his companionwere scarcely audible. When the symbol of their union was called for, it was also noticed that Edith shrank from having the ring placed uponher finger, but it was only a momentary hesitation, and the servicewas soon completed with all due solemnity. 

After the blessing, when the couple arose from their knees, the maidof honor stepped forward, and, lifting the mask of the bride, adjustedit above her forehead with the jeweled pin, while the audience satspell-bound, awaiting with breathless suspense the revelation thatwould ensue. 

At the same moment the groom also removed the covering from his face, when those who could see him instantly recognized him as EmilCorrelli, the handsome and wealthy brother of the hostess of theevening. 

His countenance was white to ghastliness, betraying that he waslaboring under great excitement and mental strain. 

But the fair young bride! who was she?

Not one in that great company recognized her for the moment, forscarcely any one had ever seen her before--excepting those, of course, who had been guests in the house during the week, and these failed toidentify her in the exquisite costume which was so different from thesimple black dresses which she had always worn, and enveloped, as shewas, in that voluminous, mist-like veil. 

The clergyman omitted nothing, and immediately, upon the lifting ofthe masks, greeted and congratulated the young couple with everyappearance of cordiality and sincerity. 

To poor, reluctant Edith the whole affair had been utterly distastefuland repulsive. 

Indeed, she had felt as if she was almost guilty of a crime inallowing herself to participate lightly in anything of so sacred anature, and, throughout the entire ceremony, she had shivered andtrembled with mingled nervousness and repugnance. 

When the ring--an unusually massive circlet of gold--had been slippedupon her finger, she had involuntarily tried to withdraw her hand fromthe clasp of the man who was holding it, a sensation of deadlyfaintness almost overpowering her for the moment. 

But feeling that she must not fail madam and spoil everything at thislast moment, she braced herself to go on with the farce (?) to theend. 

She was so relieved when it was ended, so eager to get away from theplace and have the dread ordeal over, that she scarcely heard a wordthe clergyman uttered while congratulating her. She was dimlyconscious of the clasp of his hand and the sound of his voice, but didnot even notice the hated name by which he addressed her. 

Neither had she once glanced at the groom, though as he took her handand laid it upon his arm, when they turned to go out, she wonderedvaguely why he should continue to hold it clasped in his, and whatmade his clinging fingers tremble so. 

But Emil Correlli, now that his scheme was accomplished, led her, withan air of mingled triumph and joy which sat well upon him, directlyout to the ladies' dressing-room, where they found madam aloneawaiting them. 

She could not have been whiter if she had been dead, and her teethwere actually chattering with nervousness as the two came toward her, Edith still with bowed head and downcast eyes--her brother beamingwith the exultation he could not conceal. 

But she braced herself to meet them with a brave front. 

"Dear child, you went through it beautifully, " she said, in acaressing voice as she took Edith into her arms and kissed her uponthe forehead. "Let me thank and congratulate you--and you also, Emil. "

At the sound of this name, Edith uttered a cry of dismay and turnedher glance, for the first time, upon the man at her side. 

"You!" she gasped, starting away from him with a gesture of horror, and marble could not have been whiter, nor a statue more frozen thanshe for a moment after making this amazing discovery. 

"Hush!" imperatively exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, who quickly arose to theemergency. "Do not make a scene. It could not be helped--some one hadto take Mr. Kerby's place, and Emil, arriving at the last moment, waspressed into the service the same as yourself. "

"How could you? It was cruel! it was wicked! I never would haveconsented had I suspected, " cried the girl, in a voice resonant withindignation. 

"Hush!" again commanded madam, "you must not--you shall not spoileverything now. The actors are all to hold an informal reception inthe parlors while this room is being cleared for dancing, and you twomust take your places with them--"

"I will not! I will not lend myself to such a wretched farce foranother moment!" Edith exclaimed, and never for an instant suspectingthat it was anything but a farce. 

The face of Mrs. Goddard was a study, as was also her brother's, asthese resolute words fell upon her ears; but she had no intention ofundeceiving the girl at present, for she knew that if she threw up thecharacter which she had thus far been impersonating, their plot wouldbe ruined and a fearful scandal follow. 

If they could only trick her into standing with the others to receivethe congratulations of her guests--to be publicly addressed as, andappear to assent to the name of, Mrs. Correlli, she believed it wouldbe comparatively easy later on to convince her of the truth and compelher to yield to the inevitable. 

But she saw that Edith was thoroughly aroused--that she felt she hadbeen badly used--that she had been shamefully imposed upon by havingbeen cheated into figuring thus before hundreds of people with a manwho was obnoxious to her. 

Madam was at her wits' end, for the girl's resolute air and blazingeyes plainly indicated that she did not intend to be trifled with anylonger. 

She shot a glance of dismay at her brother, only to see a dark frownupon his brow, while he angrily gnawed his under lip. 

She feared that, with his customary impulse, he might becontemplating revealing the truth, and such a course she well knewwould result in a scene that would ruin the evening for everybody. 

But just at this instant the bridesmaids came trooping into the roomand created a blessed diversion. 

"Here we are, dear Mrs. Goddard, " a gay girl exclaimed. "Didn't it allgo off beautifully, and isn't it time we were in our places for thereception?"

"Yes, yes; run along, all of you. Lead the way, Nellie, please--youknow how to go up through the billiard-room, " said Mrs. Goddard, nervously, as she gently pushed the girl toward the stairway. Thenbending toward Edith, she whispered, imploringly:

"I beg, I entreat you, Edith, not to spoil everything--everybody willwonder why you are not with the others, and I cannot explain why yourefused to stand with my brother. Go! go! you must not keep my guestswaiting. Emil, take her, " and with an imperative gesture to herbrother, she swept on toward the stairway after the others to arrangethem effectively in the drawing-room. 

Emil Correlli shot a searching look into the face of the girl besidehim. 

It was cold and proud, the beautiful eyes still glowing withindignation. But resolving upon a bold move, he reached down, took herhand, and laid it upon his arm. 

"Pardon me just this once, " he said, humbly, "and let me add myentreaties to my sister's, " and he tried gently to force her towardthe stairway. 

Edith drew herself up and took her hand from his arm. 

"Go on, " she said, haughtily, "and I will follow. Since I have beentricked into this affair so far, a little more of the same follycannot matter, and rather than subject Mrs. Goddard to a publicmortification, I will yield the point. "

She made a gesture for him to proceed, and he turned to obey, a gleamof triumph leaping into his eyes at her concession. 

Without a word they swiftly made their way back into the house anddown to the elegant parlors where, at the upper end, the first objectto greet their eyes was a beautiful floral arch with an exquisitemarriage bell suspended from it. 

On either side of this the bridesmaids and ushers had taken theirplaces, and into the center of it Emil Correlli now led his companion. 

And now ensued the last and most fiendish act in the dastardly plot. 

Hardly were they in their places when the guests came pouring into theroom, and the ushers began their duties of presentation, while Edith, with a sinking heart, but growing every moment more indignant anddisgusted with what appeared to her only a horrible and senselessmockery, was obliged to respond to hundreds of congratulations andbear in silence being addressed as Mrs. Correlli. 

It galled her almost beyond endurance--it was torture beyonddescription to her proud and sensitive spirit to be thus associatedwith one for whom she had no respect, and who had made himself all themore obnoxious by lending himself to the deception which had just beenpracticed upon her. 

Once, when there was a little pause, she turned haughtily upon the manat her side. 

"Why am I addressed thus?" she demanded. 

"Why do you allow it? Why do you not correct these people and tellthem to use the name that was used in the play rather than yours?"

The man grew white about the lips at these questions. 

"Perhaps they forget--I--I suppose it seems more natural to address meby my name, " he faltered. 

"I do not like it--I will not submit to it a moment longer, " Edithindignantly returned. 

"Hush! it is almost over, " said her companion, in a swift whisper, asothers came forward just then, and she was obliged, though rebelliousand heart-sick, to submit to the ordeal. 

But it was over at last, for, as the introductions were made, theguests passed back to the carriage-house, which had been cleared fordancing, and where the musicians were discoursing alluring strains inrhythmic measure. 

Even the bridesmaids and ushers, tempted by the sounds, at lastdeserted their posts, and Emil Correlli and his victim were finallyleft alone, the sole occupants of the drawing-room. 

"Will you come and dance?" he inquired, as he turned a pleading lookupon her. "Just once, to show that you forgive me for what I have doneto-night. "

"No, I cannot, " said Edith, coldly and wearily. "I am going directlyupstairs to divest myself of this mocking finery as soon as possible. "

A swift, hot flush suffused Emil Correlli's face, at these words. 

"Pray do not speak so bitterly and slightingly of what has made you, in my eyes at least, the most beautiful woman in this house to-night, "he said, with a look of passionate yearning in his eyes. 

"Flattery from you, sir, after what has occurred, is, to speak mildly, exceedingly unbecoming, " Edith haughtily responded and turned proudlyaway from him as if about to leave the room. 

But, at that moment, Mr. Goddard, who had not presented himselfbefore, came hurriedly forward and confronted them. His face was verypale, but there was an angry light in his eyes and a bitter sneer uponhis lips. 

"Well, Correlli, I am bound to confess that you have stolen a marchupon us to-night, in fine style, " he remarked, in a mocking tone, "andmadam--Mrs. Correlli, I should say--allow me to observe that you haveoutshone yourself this evening, both as an actress and a beauty!Really, the surprise, the _denouement_, to which you have treated ussurpasses anything in my experience; it was certainly worthy of aDumas! Permit me to offer you my heartiest congratulations. "

Edith crimsoned with anger to her brows and shot a look of scorn atthe man, for his manner was bitterly insolent and his tone had beenviolent with wounded feeling and derision throughout his speech. 

"Let this wretched farce end here and now, " she said, straighteningherself and lifting her flashing eyes to his face. "I am heartily sickof it, and I trust you will never again presume to address me by thename that you have just used. "

"Indeed! and are you so soon weary of your new title? Not yet an houra bride, and sick of your bargain!" retorted Gerald Goddard, with amocking laugh. 

"I am no 'bride, ' as you very well know, sir, " spiritedly returnedEdith. 

The man regarded her with a look of astonishment. 

He had been very much interested in his wife's clever play, until thelast act, when he had been greatly startled by the change in theleading characters, both of whom he had instantly recognized in spiteof their masks. He wondered why they had been substituted for Aliceand Walter Kerby; when, upon also recognizing the clergyman, it hadflashed upon him that this last scene was no "play"--it was to be a_bona fide_ marriage planned, no doubt, by his wife for some secretreason best known to her and the young couple. 

He did not once suspect that Edith was being tricked into an unwillingunion. 

He had known that Emil Correlli was fond of her, but he had notsupposed he would care to make her his wife, although he had no doubtthe girl would gladly avail herself of such an offer. Evidently thecourtship had been secretly and successfully carried on; still, hecould not understand why they should have adopted this exceedinglystrange way to consummate their union, when there was nothing to standin the way of a public marriage, if they desired it. 

He was bitterly wounded and chagrined upon realizing how he had beenignored in the matter by all parties, and thus allowed to rushheadlong into the piece of folly which he had committed, earlier inthe evening, in connection with Edith. 

Thus he had held himself aloof from the couple until every one elsehad left the parlors, when he mockingly saluted them as alreadydescribed. 

"No bride?" he repeated, skeptically. 

"No, sir. I told you it was simply a farce. I was merely appealed toto take the place, in the play, of Miss Kerby, who was called home bytelegram, " Edith explained. 

Mr. Goddard glanced from her to his brother-in-law in unfeignedperplexity. 

"What are you saying?" he demanded. "Do you mean to tell me that youbelieve that last act was a farce?--that you do not know that you havebeen really and lawfully married to the man beside you?"

"Certainly I have not! What do you mean, sir, by such an unwarrantableassertion?" spiritedly retorted the young girl, but losing every atomof color, as a suspicion of the terrible truth flashed through hermind. 

Gerald Goddard turned fiercely upon his brother-in-law at this, for healso now began to suspect treachery. 

"What does she mean?" he cried, sternly. "Has she been led into thisthing blindfolded?"

"I think it would be injudicious to make a scene here, " Emil Correllireplied, in a low tone, but with white lips, as he realized that themoment which he had so dreaded had come at last. 

"What do you mean? Why do you act and speak as if you believed thatmockery to be a reality?" exclaimed Edith, looking from one face tothe other with wildly questioning eyes. 

"Edith, " began Mr. Goddard, in an impressive tone, "do you not knowthat you are this man's wife?--that the ceremony on yonder stage was, in every essential, a legal one, and performed by the Rev. Mr. ---- ofthe ---- church in Boston?"

"No! never! I do not believe it. They never would have dared do such adastardly deed!" panted the startled girl, in a voice of horror. 

Then drawing her perfect form erect, she turned with a witheringglance to the craven at her side. 

"Speak!" she commanded. "Have you dared to play this miserable trickupon me?"

Emil Correlli quailed beneath the righteous indignation expressed inher flashing glance; his eyes drooped, and conscious guilt was shownin his very attitude. 

"Forgive me--I loved you so, " he stammered, and--she was answered. 

She threw out her hands in a gesture of repudiation and horror; sheflashed one withering, horrified look into his face, then, with a moanof anguish, she swayed like a reed broken by the tempest, and wouldhave fallen to the floor in her spotless robes had not Gerald Goddardcaught her senseless form in his arms, and, lifting her by mainstrength, he bore her from the room and upstairs to her own chamber. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

"YOUR FAITHLESSNESS TURNED ME INTO A DEMON. "

Emil Correlli followed Mr. Goddard and his unconscious burden, lookinglike anything but a happy bridegroom. 

He had expected that Edith would weep and rave upon discovering thetrap into which she had been lured; but he had not expected that therevelation would smite her with such terrible force, laying her likeone dead at his feet, as it had done, and he was thoroughly alarmed. 

When Mr. Goddard reached the girl's room he laid her upon her bed, andthen sent one of the servants for the housekeeper. But Mrs. Weld couldnot be found, so another maid was called, and Edith was graduallyrestored to consciousness. 

But the moment her glance fell upon Emil Correlli, who insisted uponremaining in the room, and she realized what had occurred, sherelapsed into another swoon, so deathlike and prolonged that aphysician, who happened to be among the guests, was summoned from theball-room to attend her. 

He excluded every one but the maids from the room, when he ordered hispatient to be undressed and put into bed, and after long andunwearied efforts, she was again revived, when she became so unnervedand hysterical that the physician, becoming alarmed, was about to giveher a powerful opiate, when she sank into a third fainting fit. 

Meanwhile, in the ball-room below, gayety was at its height. There hadbeen a little stir and commotion when it was learned that Edith hadfainted; but the matter was passed over with a few well-bred commentsof regret, and then forgotten for the time. But as soon as she coulddo so without being observed, madam stole from the place and went intothe house to ascertain how the girl was. 

She was, of course, aware of the cause of the swoon, and, as may bereadily imagined, was in no comfortable frame of mind. She was met atthe head of the second flight of stairs by her husband, whose face wasgrave and stern. 

"How is she?" madam inquired. 

"In a very critical condition; Dr. Arthur says she is liable to havebrain fever, " he tersely replied. 

"Brain fever!" exclaimed his wife, in a startled tone. "Surely, shecannot be as bad as that!"

"Woman, what have you done?" the man demanded, in a hoarse whisper. "How have you dared to plot and carry out the dastardly deed that youhave perpetrated this night?"

Anna Goddard's eyes began to blaze defiance. 

"That is neither the tone nor the manner you should employ inaddressing me, Gerald, as you very well know, " she retorted, withcolorless lips. 

"Have done with your tragic airs, madam, " he cried, laying a heavyhand upon her arm. "I have had enough of them. I ask you again, howhave you dared to commit this crime?"

"Crime?" she repeated, with a start, but flashing him a glance thatmade him wince as she shook herself free from his grasp. "You use aharsh term, Gerald; but if you desire a reason for what has occurredto-night, I can give you two. "

"Name them, " her companion curtly demanded. 

"First and foremost, then--to protect myself. "

"To protect yourself--from what?"

"From treachery and desertion. "

"Anna!"

A bitter sneer curled the beautiful woman's lips. 

"You know how to do it very well, Gerald, " she tauntingly returned. "That air of injured innocence is vastly becoming to you, and would bevery effective, if I did not know you so well; but it has disarmed mefor the last time. Pray never assume it again, for you will neverblind me by it in the future. "

"Explain yourself, Anna. I fail to understand you. "

"Very well; I will do so in a very few words; I was a witness of yourinterview with the girl just after dinner to-night. "

"You?" ejaculated the man, flushing hotly, and looking considerablycrestfallen. "Well, what of it?" he added, defiantly, the next moment. 

"What of it, indeed? Do you imagine a wife is going to stand quietlyby and see her husband make love to her companion?"

"What nonsense you are talking, Anna! I went in search of one of thehousemaids to button my gloves for me, met Miss Allen instead, and shewas kind enough to oblige me. "

"Bah! Gerald, I was too near you at the time to swallow such a verylame vindication, " vulgarly sneered his wife. "You were making love toher, I tell you--you were telling her something which you had nobusiness to reveal, and I swore then that her fate should be sealedthis very night. "

Gerald Goddard realized that there was no use arguing with his wife inthat mood, while he also felt that his case was rather weak, and so heshifted his ground. 

"But you must have plotted this thing long ago, for your play waswritten, and your characters chosen before we left the city, " heremarked. 

"Well?"

"But you said you had two reasons; what was the other?"

"Emil's love for the girl. He became infatuated with her from themoment of his coming to us, as you must have noticed. "

"Yes. "

"Well, he tried to win her--he even asked her to marry him, but sherefused him. Think of it--that little nobody rejecting a man likeEmil, with his wealth and position!"

"Well, if she did not love him, she had a right to refuse, him. "

"Oh, of course, " sneered madam, irritably. "But you know what he iswhen he once gets his heart set upon anything, and her obstinacy onlymade him the more determined to carry his point. He appealed to me tohelp him; and, as I have never refused him anything he wanted, if Icould possibly give it to him--"

"But this was such a wicked--such a heartless, cowardly thing to do!"interposed Mr. Goddard, with a gesture of horror. 

"I know it, " madam retorted, with a defiant toss of her head; "but youmay thank yourself for it, after all; for, almost at the last moment, I repented--I was on the point of giving the whole thing up andletting the play go on without any change of characters, when yourfaithlessness turned me into a demon, and doomed the girl. "

"I believe you are a 'demon'--your jealousy has been the bane of yourwhole life and mine; and now you have ruined the future of asbeautiful and pure a girl as ever walked the earth, " said GeraldGoddard, with a threatening brow, and in a tone so deadly cold thatthe woman beside him shivered. 

"Pshaw! don't be so tragic, " she said, after a moment, and assuming anair of lightness, "the affair will end all right--when Edith comesfully to herself and realizes the situation, I am sure she will makeup her mind to submit gracefully to the inevitable. "

"She shall not--I will help her to break the tie that binds her tohim. "

"Will you?" mockingly questioned his wife. "How pray?"

"By claiming that she was tricked into the marriage. "

"How will you prove that, Gerald?" was the smiling query. 

The man was dumb. He knew he could not prove it. 

"Did she not go willingly enough to the altar?" pursued madam. "Didshe not repeat the responses freely and unhesitatingly? Was she notmarried by a regularly ordained minister? and was she not introducedafterward to hundreds of people as the wife of my brother, and did shenot respond as such to the name of Mrs. Correlli? I hardly think youcould make out a case, Gerald. "

"But the fact that the Kerbys were called away by telegram, and thatsome one was needed to supply their places, would prove that Edith hadno knowledge of the affair--at least until the last moment, " said Mr. Goddard, eagerly seizing upon that point. 

But madam broke into a musical little laugh as he ceased. 

"Do you imagine that I would leave such a ragged end as that in myplot?" she mockingly questioned. "The Kerbys were not called away bytelegram, and no one can prove that either was ever told they were. The Kerbys are still here, dancing away as heartily as any one below, and they have known, from the first, that they would not appear in thelast act--they and they only, were let into the secret that the playwas to end with a real marriage. "

"It is the most devilish plot I ever heard of, " said her companion, passionately, through his tightly-locked teeth. "Your insane jealousyand suspicion, during the years we have lived together, have shriveledwhatever affection I hitherto possessed for you!"

"Gerald!"

The name came hoarsely from the woman's white lips. 

It was as if some one had stabbed her, and her heart had died with theutterance of that loved name. 

He left her abruptly, and descended the stairs, never once lookingback, while she watched him with an expression in her eyes that hadsomething of the fire of madness in it, as well as that of a breakingheart. 

When he reached the lower hall, she dashed down to the second floor, and into her own room, locking herself in. 

Fifteen minutes later she came out again, but in place of the usualglow of health upon her cheeks, she had applied rouge to conceal theghastliness she could not otherwise overcome, while there was a lookof recklessness and defiance in her dark eyes that bespoke a naturedriven to the verge of despair. 

Making her way back to the ball-room, she was soon mingling with themerry dancers, and with a forced gayety that deceived every one saveher husband. 

To all inquiries for the bride, she replied that she had recoveredconsciousness, but it was doubtful if she would be able to make herappearance again that night. 

Then as her glance fell upon a tall, magnificently-formed woman, whowas standing near, and the center of an admiring group, she inquired, in a tone of surprise:

"Why! who is that lady in garnet velvet and point lace?"

"That is a Mrs. Stewart, a very wealthy woman, who resides at theCopley Square Hotel, " was the reply. 

"Oh, is that Mrs. Stewart?" said madam, with eager interest. 

"Yes; but are you not acquainted with her?" questioned her guest, witha look of well-bred astonishment. 

"No; and no wonder you think it strange that she should be here byinvitation, and I have no personal acquaintance with her, " the hostessremarked, with a smile; "but such is the case, nevertheless; a cardwas sent to her at the request of my brother, who has met her severaltimes, and who admires her very much. What magnificent diamonds shewears!"

"Yes; she is said to be worth a great deal of money. "

"She must have come in while I was upstairs inquiring about Edith, "madam observed. "I must find my brother, and be presented to her. Excuse me--I will see you later. "

With a graceful obeisance, madam turned away and went in search ofEmil Correlli. 

But, as she went, she wondered if she could ever have seen Mrs. Stewart before. 

The woman's face seemed strangely familiar to her, and yet she couldnot remember having met her before. 

The sensation was something like those mysterious occurrences whichsometimes make people feel that they are but a repetition ofexperiences in a previous state of existence. 

The stranger was an undeniably handsome woman. She was more thanhandsome, for there was a sweet grace and influence about her everymovement and expression that proclaimed her to be a woman of noble andlovely character. 

She was a woman to be singled out from the multitude on account of thetaste and elegance of her costume, as well as for her great personalbeauty. 

"She cannot have less than fifty thousand dollars' worth of diamondson her person, " murmured Anna Goddard, with a pang of envy, as shecovertly watched her strange guest while she made her way through thethrong in search of her brother. 

She met him near the door, he having just come in from the house, toexcuse himself to his sister, after having been to Edith's door forthe sixth time to inquire for her. 

His face was pale, his brow gloomy, his eyes heavy with anxiety. 

"Well, how is she now?" questioned his sister. 

"She has fallen into her third swoon, and the doctor thinks she is ina very critical state. He says her condition must have been induced bya tremendous shock of some kind. "

"Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, looking relieved. "Judging from that, Ishould say that the girl has not yet revealed the true state ofaffairs. "

"No; Dr. Arthur did not appear to know how to account for hercondition, and asked me if I knew anything that could have caused it. "

"Of course, you did not?" said madam, meaningly. 

"No; except the excitement, etc. , of the occasion. "

"Well, don't worry, " Mrs. Goddard returned; "everything will come outall right in time. It is a great piece of luck that she did not wailand rave and let out the whole story before the doctor and the maids. Your Mrs. Stewart is here--you must come and greet her and introduceme, " she concluded, glancing toward her guest as she spoke. 

"I was coming to tell you that I am going to my room and to bed--Ihave no heart for any gayety to-night, " said Emil Correlli, gloomily. 

"Nonsense! don't be so absurdly foolish, Emil, " responded his sister, impatiently. 

"Indeed! I think it would be improper for me to remain when my wife isso ill, " he objected, but flushing as he uttered the word. 

"Well, perhaps; do as you choose. But come and introduce me to Mrs. Stewart before you go; she must feel rather awkward to be a guest hereand not know her hostess. "

CHAPTER XV. 

"OH, GOD! I KNEW IT! YOU ARE--ISABEL!"

With a somewhat reluctant air, Emil Correlli offered his arm to hissister and led her toward the woman around whom a group ofdistinguished people had gathered, and whom she was entertaining withan ease and grace that proclaimed her perfectly at home among the_crême de la crême_ of society. 

She appeared not to perceive the approach of her hostess and herbrother, but continued the animated conversation in which she wasengaged. 

A special observer, however, would have noticed the peculiar firewhich began to burn in her beautiful eyes. 

When Mr. Correlli presented his sister, she turned with fascinatinggrace, making a charming acknowledgment, although she did not offerher hostess her hand. 

"You are very welcome, Mrs. Stewart, " Mrs. Goddard remarked, inresponse to some words of apology for being a guest in the housewithout a previous acquaintance. "I only regret that we have not metbefore. "

"Thanks; I, too, deplore the complication of circumstances which hasprevented an earlier meeting, " was the sweet-voiced response. 

But there was a peculiar shading in the remark which, somehow, gratedharshly upon Anna Goddard's ears and nerves. 

"Who is she, anyhow?" she questioned within herself with a strangefeeling of unrest and perplexity. "I never even heard of her untilafter Emil came; yet there is something about her that makes me feelas if we had met in some other sphere. "

She stole a searching glance at the woman's face, only to find hergreat, luminous eyes fastened upon her with an equally intent gaze. 

"Ah!" and with this voiceless ejaculation and a great inward start, some long dormant memory seemed suddenly to have been aroused withinher. 

There was an instant of awkwardness; then madam, who seldom allowedanything to disturb her self-possession, remarked:

"I am sorry, Mrs. Stewart, that you did not arrive earlier to witnessour little play. "

But while she was giving utterance to this polite regret, she wassaying to herself:

"Yes, there certainly is a look about her that reminds me of--Ugh!She may possibly be a relative, or the resemblance may be merely acoincidence. All the same, I shall not like her any the better forrecalling that horror to me. "

"Thank you, " Mrs. Stewart replied; "no doubt I should have enjoyed it, especially as, I am told, it was original with you and terminated in areal and very pretty wedding. "

"Yes; my brother finds that he must leave the city earlier than heanticipated; and, as he was anxious to take his bride with him, hechose this opportunity to celebrate his marriage, and to introduce hiswife to our friends. "

"Ah! I did not even know that Monsieur Correlli was contemplatingmatrimony. Who is the favored lady of his choice?" Mrs. Stewartinquired. 

"A Miss Edith Allen. "

"Edith Allen!" repeated the beautiful stranger, with a start. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Goddard, regarding her with surprise, but unmixedwith anxiety. "Did you ever meet her?"

"Is she very fair and lovely, with golden hair and deep-blue eyes, atall, slender figure, and charming manners?" eagerly questioned Mrs. Stewart. 

"Yes, you have described her exactly, " answered madam, yet secretlymore disturbed than before; "but I am surprised that you should knowher, for she has been in the city only a short time, and I did notsuppose she had made a single acquaintance outside the family. "

"Oh, I cannot lay claim to an acquaintance with her, as I have onlyseen her once, and our meeting was purely accidental, " the ladyresponded. "She rendered me efficient service one day when she was outfor a walk, and I inquired her name. "

She then proceeded to explain the nature of that service and theaccident that had called it forth, and concluded by remarking:

"Allow me to say I think that Monsieur Correlli has shown excellenttaste in his choice of a wife. I was charmed with the young lady, andI would like to meet her again. Will you introduce me?" and she lookedeagerly about the room in search of the graceful form and lovely facewhich she was so desirous of seeing. 

"I am very sorry that I cannot comply with your request, " said Mrs. Goddard, flushing slightly; "but Edith is rather delicate and thereception, after the marriage, was such a strain upon her that shefainted and was obliged to retire. "

"That was very unfortunate, " Mrs. Stewart observed, while she searchedher companion's face curiously, "but I trust that I may have thepleasure of meeting her later. "

"I cannot promise as to that, " madam replied, "as it is my brother'sintention to go abroad as soon as he can complete his arrangements todo so, although no date has been set as yet. But--have you ever met myhusband. Mrs. Stewart?" she inquired, as that gentleman was seenapproaching their way that moment. 

"No, I have never had that honor, " the lady returned; then added, witha light laugh: "I feel very much like an intruder to be here to-nightas a stranger to both my host and hostess. "

"Pray do not be troubled on that account, " madam hastened cordially toreply: "any friend of my brother would be a welcome guest, and I amcharmed to have made your acquaintance. "

"Thank you, " responded the beautiful stranger; but madam marveled atthe line of white encircling the scarlet lips, as she signaled to herhusband and called him by name:

"Gerald. "

He glanced up, and both women noticed the expression of weariness andtrouble upon his brow. 

"You have not been introduced to Emil's friend, I think, " his wifecontinued. "Allow me to present Mrs. Stewart--Mrs. Stewart, myhusband, Mr. Goddard. "

The gentleman bowed with all his accustomed courtesy, but did notfairly get a glimpse of the lady's face until they both assumed anupright position again, when he found himself looking straight intothe magnificent eyes of his guest. 

As he met them it seemed as if some one had stabbed him to the heart, so sudden and terrible was the shock that he experienced. 

He changed an involuntary groan into a cough, but he could not havebeen more ghastly if he had been dead, while he continued to gaze uponher as if fascinated. 

"Ha! he has noticed it also!" said madam to herself, with a suddenheart-sinking. 

Then realizing that something must be done to relieve the awkwardnessof the situation, she hastened to observe:

"Mrs. Stewart has only just arrived--she did not come in season towitness our little drama. "

Mr. Goddard murmured some polite words of regret, but feeling all thewhile as if he were turning to stone. 

Mrs. Stewart, however, responded in a pleasant vein, and chattedsociably for a few moments, when, some other friends joining them, more introductions followed, and the conversation became general. 

Gerald Goddard improved this opportunity to slip away; but his wife, who was covertly watching his every look and movement, noticed that hewalked with the uncertain step of one who was either blind orintoxicated. 

A feeling of depression settled upon her--a sense of impending evil, which, try as she would, she could neither forget nor shake off. 

She began to be very impatient of all the glitter, glare, and gayetyaround her, and told herself that she would be heartily glad when thelast dance was over, and the last guest had departed. 

Truly, there is many an aching heart hidden beneath costly raiment andglittering jewels; and society is, to a large extent, but a smilingmask in which people hold high revel over the tombs of dead hopes anddisappointed ambitions. 

But fashion and folly must have their time; and so, in spite ofmadam's heart-ache and weariness, the dancing and merriment went on, no one dreamed of the phantom memories and the ghosts from out thepast that were stalking about the beautiful rooms of that elegantmansion; or that its enviable (?) master and mistress were treadingupon the verge of a volcano which, at any moment, was liable to burstall bounds and pour forth its furious lava-tide to consume them. 

An hour later Mrs. Stewart again sought her hostess and wished hergood-night, remarking that circumstances which she could not controlcompelled her to take an early leave. 

"Ah! that is unfortunate, for supper will shortly be announced; cannotyou possibly remain to partake of it?" madam urged, with cordialhospitality. 

"Thanks, no; but I am promising myself the pleasure of meeting youagain in the near future, " Mrs. Stewart returned, shooting a searchingglance at her hostess. 

Her language and manner were perfect; but, for the second time thatevening, Anna Goddard noticed the peculiar shading in her words, and achill that was like a breath from an iceberg went shivering over her. 

She, however, replied courteously, and then Mrs. Stewart swept fromthe room upon the arm of her attendant. 

Many earnest and curious glances followed the stately couple, for thelady was reported to be immensely rich, while it had also beenwhispered that the gentleman attending her--a distinguishedartist--had long been a suitor for her hand; but, for some reason bestknown to herself, the lady had thus far turned a deaf ear to hisentreaties, although it was evident that she regarded him with thegreatest esteem, if not with sentiments of a tenderer nature. 

After passing through the covered walk leading to the house, the twoseparated--the gentleman to attend to having their carriage called, the lady to go upstairs for her wraps. 

As she was about to enter the dressing-room to get them, a picturehanging between two windows at the end of the hall attracted her eye. 

"Ah!" she exclaimed, catching her breath sharply, and moving swiftlytoward it, she seemed to forget everything, and stood, with claspedhands and heaving bosom, spell-bound before it. 

It represented a portion of an old Roman wall--a marvelouslypicturesque bit of scenery, with climbing vines that seemed to clingto the gray stones lovingly, as if to conceal their irregular linesand other ravages which time and the elements had made upon them;while here and there, growing out from its crevices, were clusters ofdelicate maiden-hair fern, the bright green of which contrastedbeautifully with the weather-beaten wall and the darker, richercoloring of the vines. 

Just underneath, partly in the shadow of the wall, there sat, upon arustic bench, a beautiful Italian girl, dressed in the costume of hercountry, while at her feet reclined her lover, his hat lying on thegrass beside him, his handsome face upturned to the maiden, whom itwas evident he adored. 

It was a charming picture, very artistic, and finely executed, whilethe subject was one that appealed strongly to the tenderest sentimentsof the human heart. 

But the face of the woman who was gazing upon it was deathly white. She was motionless as a statue, and seemed to have forgotten time, place, and her surroundings, as she drank in with her wonderful eyesthe scene before her. 

"It is the wall upon the Appian Way in Rome, " she breathed at last, with a long-drawn sigh. 

"You are right, madam, " responded a voice close at hand, the sound ofwhich caused the woman to press her clasped hands hard upon herheaving bosom, though she gave no other sign of being startled. 

The next moment she turned and faced the speaker. 

It was Gerald Goddard. 

"I heard no one approaching--I thought I was alone, " she said, as shelifted those wonderful eyes of hers to his. 

He shrank from her glance as under a lightning flash that had burstupon him unawares. 

But quickly recovering himself, he courteously remarked:

"Pardon me--I trust I have not startled you. "

"Only momentarily, " she replied; then added: "I was admiring thispainting; it is very lovely and--most faithfully portrays the scenefrom which it was copied. "

"Ah! you recognize the--the locality?"

"Perfectly. "

"You--you have been in--Rome?" the man faltered. 

"Oh, yes. "

"Recently?"

There was a sort of breathless intensity about the man as he askedthis question. 

"No; I was in Rome--in the year 18--. "

At this response, Gerald Goddard involuntarily put out his hand andlaid it upon the balustrade, near which he was standing, while hegazed spell-bound into the proud, beautiful face before him, searchingit with wild, eager eyes. 

After a moment he partially recovered himself, and remarked:

"Is it possible? I myself was in Rome during the same year and paintedthis picture at that time. Were--were you in the city long?" heconcluded, in a voice that trembled in spite of himself. 

"From January until--until June. "

For the second time that evening Mr. Goddard suppressed a groan with acough. 

"Ah! It is a singular coincidence, is it not, that I also was thereduring those months?" he finally managed to articulate. 

"A coincidence?" his companion repeated, with a slight lifting of hershapely brows, a curious gleam in her eyes. Then throwing back herhead with an air of defiance which was intensified by the glitter ofthose magnificent stones which crowned her lustrous hair, and with apeculiar cadence ringing through her tones, she observed: "Rome is alovely city--do you not think so? And, as it happened, I resided in adelightful portion of it. Possibly you may remember the locality. Itwas a charming little house, with beautiful trees--oleander, orange, and fig--growing all around the spacious court. This pretty ideal homewas Number 34, Via Nationale. "

The wretched man stared helplessly at her for one brief moment whenshe had concluded, then a cry of despair burst from him. 

"Oh, God! I knew it! You--you are Isabel?"

"Yes. "

"Then you were not--you did not--"

"Die? No, " was the brief response; but the beautiful eyes looking sosteadily into his seemed to burn into his very soul. 

A mighty shudder shook Gerald Goddard from head to foot as he reeledbackward and leaned against the wall for support. 

"Oh, God!" he cried again, in a voice of agony; then his head droppedheavily upon his breast. 

His companion gazed silently upon him for a minute; then, turning, shebrushed by him without a word and went on into the dressing-room forher wraps. 

Presently she came forth again, enveloped from head to foot in a longgarment richly lined with fur, the scarlet lining of the hoodcontrasting beautifully with her clear, flawless complexion and herbrown eyes. 

Gerald Goddard still stood where she had left him. 

She would have passed him without a word, but he put out a tremblinghand to detain her. 

"Isabel!" he faltered. 

"Mrs. Stewart, if you please, " she corrected, in a cold, proud tone. 

"Ha! you have married again!" he exclaimed, with a start, while hesearched her face with a despairing look. 

"Married again?" she repeated, with curling lips. "I have not soperjured myself. "

"But--but--"'

"Yes, I know what you would say, " she interposed, with a proud littlegesture; "nevertheless, I claim the matron's title, and 'Stewart' wasmy mother's maiden name, " and she was about to pass on again. 

"Stay!" said the man, nervously. "I--I must see you again--I must talkfurther with you. "

"Very well, " the lady coldly returned, "and I also have some thingswhich I wish to say to you. I shall be at the Copley Square Hotel onThursday afternoon. I will see you as early as you choose to call. "

Then, with an air of grave dignity, she passed on, and down thestairs, without casting one backward glance at him. 

The man leaned over the balustrade and watched her. 

She moved like a queen. 

In the hall below she was joined by her attendant, whom she welcomedwith a ravishing smile, and the next moment they had passed out of thehouse together. 

"Heavens! and I deserted that glorious woman for--a virago!" GeraldGoddard muttered, hoarsely, as he strode, white and wretched, to hisroom. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

"YOU SHALL NEVER WANT FOR A FRIEND. "

Up in the third story, poor Edith lay upon her bed, still in anunconscious state. 

All the wedding finery had been removed and carried away, and she layscarcely less white than the spotless _robe de nuit_ she wore, herlips blue and pinched, her eyes sunken and closed. 

A physician sat beside her, his fingers upon her pulse, his eyesgravely fixed upon the beautiful, waxen face lying on the pillow. 

Two housemaids, looking frightened and anxious, were seated near him, watching him and the still figure on the bed, but ready to obeywhatever command he might issue to them. 

After introducing his sister to Mrs. Stewart, Emil Correlli hadslipped away from the scene of gayety, which had become almostmaddening to him, and mounted to that third-story room to inquireagain regarding the condition of the girl he had so wronged. 

"No better, " came the answer, which made him turn with dread, and aterrible fear to take possession of his heart. 

What if Edith should never revive? What if she should die in one ofthese dreadful swoons?

His guilty conscience warned him that he would have been her murderer. 

He could not endure the thought, and slinking away to his own room, hedrank deeply to stupefy himself, and then went to bed. 

Gerald Goddard also was strangely exercised over the fair girl'scondition, and half an hour after his interview with Mrs. Stewart hecrept forth from his room again and went to see if there had been anychange in her condition. 

"Yes, " Dr. Arthur told him, "she is coming out of it, and if anotherdoes not follow, she will come around all right in time. If you couldonly find that housekeeper, " he added, "she must have good carethrough the night. "

"I will go for her again, " said Mr. Goddard, and he started downstairsupon his quest. 

He met the woman on the second floor and just coming up the backstairs. 

"Ah! Mrs. Weld, I am glad to find you. We have needed you sadly, " heeagerly exclaimed. 

"I am sorry, " the woman replied, in a regretful tone. "I wasunavoidably engaged and came just as soon as I was at liberty. What isthis I hear?" she continued, gravely; "what is this story about thepoor child being cheated into a real marriage with madam's brother? Isit true?"

"Hush! no one must hear such a version, " said Mr. Goddard, lookinganxiously about him. 

He then proceeded to explain something of the matter, for he saw thatshe knew too much to keep still, unless she was told more, andcautioned not to discuss the matter with the servants. 

"I knew nothing of the plot until it was all over--I swear to you Idid not, " he said, when she began to express her indignation at theaffair. "I never would have permitted anything of the kind to havebeen carried out in my house, if I had suspected it. It seems thatCorrelli has been growing fond of her ever since he came. She hasrefused him twice, but he swore that he would have her, in spite ofeverything, and it seems that he concocted this plot to accomplish hisend. "

"Well, sir, he is a dastardly villain, and, in my opinion, his sisteris no better than himself, " Mrs. Weld exclaimed, in tones of hotindignation, and then she swept past him and on up to Edith's room. 

She opened the door and entered just as the poor girl heaved a longsigh and unclosed her eyes, looking about with complete consciousnessfor the first time since she fell to the floor in the parlor below. 

The physician immediately administered a stimulant, for she wasnaturally weak and her pulses still feeble. 

As this began to take effect, memory also resumed its torturing work. 

Lifting her eyes to the housekeeper, who went at once to her side, aspasm of agony convulsed her beautiful features. 

"Oh, Mrs. Weld!" she moaned, shivering from head to foot. 

"Hush, child!" said the woman, bending over her and laying a gentlehand upon her head; "it will all come right, so just shut your eyesand try to go to sleep. I am going to stay with you to-night, andnobody else shall come near you. Don't talk before the servants, " sheadded, in a swift whisper close to her ear. 

An expression of intense relief swept over the fair sufferer's face atthis friendly assurance, and lifting a grateful look to thehousekeeper's face, she settled herself contentedly upon her pillow. 

Dr. Arthur then drew Mrs. Weld to the opposite side of the room, wherehe gave her directions for the night and what to do in case thefainting should return--which, however, he said he did not anticipate, as the action of the heart had become normal and the circulation morenatural. 

A little later he took his leave, after which the housemaids weredismissed and Edith was alone with her friend. 

When the door closed after them the girl stretched forth her hands ina gesture of helpless appeal to the woman. 

"Oh, Mrs. Weld, " she wailed, "must I be bound to that wretch duringthe remainder of my life? I cannot live and bear such a fate! Oh, whata shameful mockery it was! I felt, all the time, as if I werecommitting a sacrilege, and yet I never dreamed that I was being usedso treacherously--"

The housekeeper sat down beside the excited girl, whose eyes wereburning with a feverish light, and who showed symptoms of returninghysteria. 

She removed her spectacles, and taking both of those trembling handsin hers, looked steadily into the troubled eyes. 

"My child, " she said, in a gentle, soothing tone, "you must not talkabout it to-night--you must not even think about it. I have told youthat it will all come out right; no man could hold you to such amarriage--no court would hold you bound when once it is understood howfraudulently you had been drawn into it. "

"But who is going to be able to prove that it was fraudulent?"questioned Edith with increasing anxiety. "Apparently I went to thealtar with that man of my own free will; with all the semblance ofsincerity I took those marriage vows upon me and then received thecongratulations of all those guests as if I were a real wife. Oh, itwas terrible! terrible! terrible!" and her voice arose almost to ashriek of agony as she concluded. 

"Hush! not another word! Edith look at me!" commanded Mrs. Weld withgentle but impressive authority. 

The young girl, awed to silence in spite of her grief and nervousexcitement, looked wonderingly up into those magnetic eyes whichalmost seemed to betray a dual nature. 

"Oh, dear Mrs. Weld, you do not seem at all like yourself, " shegasped. "What--who are you?"

"I am your friend, my dear, " was the soothing response, "and I amgoing to prove it, first by forbidding you to refer to this subjectagain until after you have had a nice, long sleep. Trust me and obeyme, dear; I am going to stand by you as long as you need a friend, andI promise you that you shall never be a slave to the man who has sowronged you to-night. Now put it all out of your mind. I do not wantto give you an opiate if I can avoid it, for you would not be so wellto-morrow after taking it; but I shall have to if you keep up thisexcitement. "

She continued to hold the girl's trembling hands in a strong, protecting clasp, while she still gazed steadily into her eyes, until, as if overcome by a will stronger than her own--her physicalstrength being well-nigh exhausted--the white lids gradually drooped, the rigid form relaxed, the lines smoothed themselves out of her brow, and she was soon sleeping quietly and restfully. 

When her regular breathing assured the watcher beside her thatoblivion had sealed her senses for the time, she bent over her, touched her lips softly to her forehead, and murmured:

"Dear heart, they shall never hold you to that wicked ceremony--tothat unholy bond! If the law will not cancel it, if they have sprungthe trap upon you so cunningly that the court cannot free you, theyshall at least leave you in peace and virtually free, and you shallnever want for a friend as long as--as--Gertrude Weld lives, " sheconcluded, a peculiar smile wreathing her lips. 

While this strange woman sat in that third-story room and watched hersleeping patient, the hours sped by on rapid wings to the merrydancers below, very few of whom concerned themselves about, or evenknew of, the tragic ending of the marriage which they had witnessedearlier in the evening. 

But oh, how heavily these hours dragged to one among that smilingthrong!

Anna Goddard could scarcely control her impatience for her guests tobe gone--for the terrible farce to end. 

How terrible it all was to her not one of the gay people around hercould suspect, for she was obliged to fawn and smile as if she were inthorough sympathy with the scene, and to attend to her duties ashostess and to all the petty details required by so-called etiquette, in order to preserve the prestige which she had acquired forentertaining handsomely. 

But there was a deadly fear at her heart--an agony of apprehension, adread of a fate which, to her, would have been worse than death. 

Her husband and brother had disappeared entirely from the ball-room, acircumstance which only added to her perplexity and distress. 

When she saw signs of the ball breaking up she sent an imperativemessage to her husband to join her, for she knew that it would causeunpleasant remarks if the master of the house should fail to put in anappearance to "speed the parting guest. "

But she almost wished, when he came to her side, that she had not sentfor him, for he seemed like one who had lost his hold upon every hopein the world, and looked so coldly upon her that she would rather havehad him plunge a dagger into her heart. 

But the weary evening was over at length--the last guest from outsidewas gone--the last visitor in the house had retired. 

Her husband also had watched his opportunity, when she was lookinganother way, and had slipped out of the room and upstairs to escapehaving any complaints or questions from her. 

And so Anna Goddard stood alone in her elegant drawing-room, a mostmiserable woman, in spite of the luxury that surrounded her. 

She had everything that heart could wish of this world's goods--abeautiful home in the city, another in the country, horses, carriages, servants, fine raiment, costly jewels, and fared sumptuously everyday. 

But her heart was like a sepulcher, full of corruption that hadtainted her whole life; and now, as she stood there beneath the glareof a hundred lights, so fair to look upon in her gleaming satins andflashing jewels, it seemed to her that she would gladly exchangeplaces with the humblest country-woman if thereby she could be atpeace with herself and with God, and be the center of a loving andloyal family, happy in the performances of her simple duties as a wifeand mother. 

Finally, with a weary sigh, the unhappy woman went slowly upstairs, feeling as if, in spite of the smiles and compliments which she hadthat evening received, she had not a real friend in the world. 

Going to her dressing-case, she began to remove her jewels. 

The house was very still--so still that it almost seemed deserted, andthis feeling only served to add to the sense of loneliness anddesolation that was oppressing her. 

Her face was full of pain, her beautiful lips quivered with suppressedemotion as she gathered up her costly treasures in both hands andstood looking at them a moment, thinking bitterly how much money theyrepresented, and yet of how little real value they were to her as anessential element in her life. 

She moved toward her casket to put her gems carefully away. 

She stood looking down into the box for a minute, then, as if impelledby some irresistible impulse, she laid the priceless stones all in aheap upon the table, when, taking hold of a loop, which had escapedthe housekeeper's notice, she lifted the cushion from its place, thusrevealing the papers which had been concealed beneath it. 

She seized the uppermost one with an eager hand. 

"I believe I will destroy it, " she mused, "I am afraid there issomething more in his desire to possess it than he is willing toadmit, for he is so determined to get possession of it. "

She half unfolded the document as if to examine it, when a suddenshock went quivering through her frame and a look of amazementoverspread her face. 

"What can this mean?" she exclaimed, in a tone of alarm, as she dashedit upon the floor and seized another. 

This also proved disappointing. 

"It was here the last time I looked! I am sure I left it on top of theothers!" she muttered, with white lips, as, with trembling hands andheaving bosom, she overturned everything in search of the missingdocument. 

But the most rigid examination failed to reveal it, and, with a cry ofmingled agony and anger, she sank weak and trembling upon the nearestchair. 

"It is gone!" she whispered, hoarsely; "some one has stolen it!"

She sat there looking utterly helpless and wretched for a fewmoments. 

Then her eyes began to blaze and her lips to twitch spasmodically. 

"He has done this!" she cried, starting to her feet once more. "Thatwas why he was absent so long from the ball-room to-night. "

Seizing the papers she had removed from the box, she hastily replacedthem, also the cushion, restoring the jewels to their places, afterwhich she shut and locked the casket, taking care to remove the keyfrom its lock. 

This done, she hurried from the room, looking more like a beautifulfiend than a woman. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

"WOULD YOU DARE BE FALSE TO ME, AFTER ALL THESE YEARS?"

With her exquisite robe trailing unheeded after her, Anna Goddardswept swiftly down the hall and rapped imperatively upon the door ofher husband's room. 

There was no answer from within. 

She tried the handle. The door would not yield--it was locked on theinside. 

"Gerald, are you in bed?" his wife inquired, putting her lips to thecrack and speaking low. 

"What do you wish, Anna?" the man questioned. 

"I wish to see you--I must speak with you, even if you have retired, "she returned, imperatively. 

There was a slight movement within the room, then the door was thrownopen, and Gerald Goddard stood before her. 

But she shrank back almost immediately, a low exclamation of surpriseescaping her as she saw his face, so white, so pain-drawn, andhaggard. 

"Gerald! what is the matter?" she demanded, forgetting, for themoment, her own anger and even her errand there, in the anxiety whichshe experienced for him. 

"I am feeling quite well, Anna, " he responded, in a mechanical tone. "What is it you wish to say to me?"

Sweeping into the room, she closed the door after her, then confrontedhim with accusing mien. 

"What do I wish to say to you?" she repeated, her voice quivering withpassion, her eyes blazing with a fierce expression. "I want that paperwhich you have stolen from me. "

"I--I do not understand you, Anna, " the man began, in a pre-occupiedmanner. "What paper--what--"

"I will bear no trifling, " she passionately cried, interrupting him. "You know very well what paper I refer to--I never had but onedocument in my possession in which you had any interest; the one youhave so beset me about during the last few weeks. "

"That?" exclaimed the man, at last aroused from the apathy which hadhitherto seemed to possess him. 

"That!" retorted his companion, mockingly imitating his tone, "as ifyou did not very well know it was 'that, ' and no other. GeraldGoddard, I have come to demand it of you, " she went on shrilly. "Youhave no right to enter my rooms, like a thief, and steal my treasures!I--"

"Anna, be still!" commanded her husband, sternly. "You are losingcontrol of yourself, and some of our guests may overhear you. I knownothing of the document. "

"You lie!" hissed the woman, almost beside herself with mingled rageand fear. "Who, but you, could have any interest in the thing? who, save you, even knew of its existence, or that it had ever been in mypossession? Give it back to me! I will have it! It's my onlysafeguard. You knew it, and you have stolen it, to make yourselfindependent of me. "

"Anna, you shall not demean either yourself or me by giving expressionto such unjust suspicions, " Gerald Goddard returned with cold dignity. "I swear to you that I do not know anything about the paper. I havenot even once laid my eyes upon it since you stole it from me. If ithas been taken from the place where you have kept it concealed, " hewent on, "then other hands than mine have been guilty of the theft. "

There was the ring of truth in his words, and she was forced tobelieve him; yet there was a mystery about the affair which was beyondher fathoming. 

"Then who could have taken it, " she gasped, growing ghastly white atthe thought of there being a third party to their secret--"who onearth has done this thing?"

Gerald Goddard was silent. He had his suspicions, suspicions that madehim quake inwardly, as he thought of what might be the outcome of themif they should prove to be true. 

"Gerald, why do you not answer me?" his companion impatientlydemanded. "Can you think of any one who would be likely to rob us inthis way?"

"Have you no suspicion, Anna?" the man asked, and looking gravely intoher eyes. "Was there no one among your guests to-night, who--"

"Who--what--!" she cried, as he faltered and stopped. 

"Was there no one present who made you think of--of some one whomyou--have known in the--the past?"

"Ha! do you refer to Mrs. Stewart?" said madam. "Did you also noticethe--resemblance?"

"Could any one help it?--could any one ever mistake those eyes?Anna--she was Isabel herself!"

"No--no!" she panted wildly, "she may be some relative. Are you losingyour mind? Isabel is--dead. "

"She lives!"

"I tell you no! I--saw her dead. "

"You? How could that be possible?" exclaimed Mr. Goddard, inastonishment. "We were both in Florence at the time of that tragedy. "

"Nevertheless, I saw her dead and in her coffin, " persisted hiscompanion, with positive emphasis. 

"Now you talk as if you were losing your mind, " he answered, withwhite lips. 

"I am not. Do you not remember I told you one morning, I was going tospend a couple of days with a friend at Fiesole?"

"Yes. "

"Well, I had read of that tragedy that very day, and then hid thepaper, but I did not go to Fiesole at all. I took the first train forRome. "

"Anna!"

"I wanted to be sure, " she cried, excitedly. "I was jealous of her, I--hated her; and I knew that if the report was true I should be atrest. I went to the place where they had taken her. Some one had caredfor her very tenderly--she lay as if asleep, and looked like abeautiful piece of sculpture in her white robe; one could hardlybelieve that she was--dead. But they told me they were going to--tobury her that afternoon unless some one came to claim her. They askedme if I had known her--if she was a friend of mine. I told themno--she was nothing to me; I had simply come out of curiosity, havingseen the story of her tragic end in a paper. Then I took the nexttrain back to Florence. "

"Why have you never told me this before, Anna?" Gerald Goddardinquired, with lips that were perfectly colorless, while he laid hishand upon the back of a chair for support. 

"Why?" she flashed out jealously at him. "Why should I talk of her toyou? She was dead--she could never come between us, and I wished toput her entirely out of my mind, since I had satisfied myself of thefact. "

"Did--did you hear anything of--of--"

"Of the child? No; all I ever knew was what you yourself read in thepaper--that both mother and child had disappeared from their home andboth were supposed to have suffered the same fate, although the bodyof the child was not found. "

"Oh!" groaned Gerald Goddard, wiping the clammy moisture from hisbrow. "I never realized the horror of it as I do at this moment, and Inever have forgiven myself for not going to Rome to institute a searchfor myself; but--"

"But I wouldn't let you, I suppose you were about to add, " said madam, bitterly. "What was the use?" she went on, angrily. "Everything wasall over before you knew anything about it--"

"I could at least have erected a tablet to mark her resting-place, "the man interposed. 

"Ha! ha! it strikes me it was rather late then to manifest muchsentiment; that would have become you better before you broke herheart and killed her by your neglect and desertion, " sneered madam, who was driven to the verge of despair by this late exhibition ofregard for a woman whom she had hated. 

"Don't, Anna!" he cried, sharply. Then suddenly straightening himself, he said, as if just awaking from some horrible nightmare: "But she didnot die. I have not that on my conscience, after all. "

"She did--I tell you she did!" hoarsely retorted the excited woman. 

"But I have seen and talked with her to-night, and she told me thatshe was--Isabel!" he persisted. 

Anna Goddard struck her palms together with a gesture bordering upondespair. 

"I do not believe it--I will not believe it!" she panted. 

"He began to pity her, for he also was beginning to realize that, ifIsabel Stewart were really the woman whom he had wronged more thantwenty years previous, her situation was indeed deplorable. 

"Anna, " he said, gravely, and speaking with more calmness andgentleness than at any time during the interview, "this is a sternfact, and--we must look it in the face. "

His tone and manner carried conviction to her heart. 

She sank crouching at his feet, bowing her face upon her hands. 

"Gerald! Gerald! it must not be so!" she wailed. "It is only somecunning story invented to cheat us and avenge her. That woman shallnever separate us--I will never yield to her. Oh, Heaven! why did Inot destroy that paper when I had it? Gerald, give it to me now, ifyou have it; it is not too late to burn it even now, and no one canprove the truth--we can defy her to the last. "

The man stooped to raise her from her humiliating position. 

"Get up, Anna, " he said, kindly. "Come, sit in this chair and let ustalk the matter over calmly. It is a stern fact that Isabel is aliveand well, and it is useless either to ignore it or deplore it. "

With shivering sobs bursting from her with every breath, the wretchedwoman allowed herself to be helped to the chair, into which she sankwith an air of abject despair. 

Anna Goddard's was not a nature likely to readily yield to humiliationor defeat, and after a few moments of silent battle with herself, sheraised her head and turned her proud face and searching eyes upon hercompanion. 

"You say that it is a 'stern fact' that Isabel lives, " she remarked, with compressed lips. 

"I am sure--there can be no mistake, " the man replied. Then he toldher of the interview which had occurred in the hall, where he hadfound the woman standing before the picture which he had painted inRome so many years ago. 

"She recognized it at once, " he said; "she located the very spot fromwhich I had painted the scene. "

"Oh, I cannot make it seem possible, for I tell you I saw her lyingdead in her casket, " moaned madam, who, even in the face of allproofs, could not bring herself to believe that her old rival wasliving and had it in her power to ruin her life. 

"She must have been in a trance--she must have been resuscitated bythose people who found her. As sure as you and I both live, she isliving also, " Mr. Goddard solemnly responded. 

"Oh, how could such a thing be?"

"I do not know--she did not tell me; she was very cold and proud. "

"What was she doing here? How dared she enter this house?" criedmadam, her anger blazing up again. 

"I cannot tell you. It was a question I was asking myself just as youcame to the door, " said Mr. Goddard, with a sigh. "I have no doubt shehad some deep-laid purpose, however. "

"Do you imagine her purpose was to get possession of that document?"questioned madam. 

"I had thought of that--I have felt almost sure of it since you toldme it had disappeared. "

"But how could she have known that such a paper was in our possession?You did not receive it until long after--"

"Yes, I know, " interposed Mr. Goddard, with a shiver; "nevertheless Iam impressed that it is now in her possession, even though I did notsuppose that any one, save you and I and Will Forsyth, ever knew ofits existence. "

There ensued an interval of silence, during which both appeared to beabsorbed in deep thought. 

"If she has it, what will she do with it?" madam suddenly questioned, lifting her heavy eyes to her companion. 

"I am sure I cannot tell, Anna, " he coldly returned. 

His tone was like a match applied to powder. 

"Well, then, what will you do, Gerald Goddard, in view of the fact, asyou believe, that she is alive and has learned the truth?" sheimperiously demanded. 

"I--I do not think it will be wise for us to discuss that point justat present, " he faltered. 

"Coward! Is that your answer to me after twenty years of adoration anddevotion?" cried the enraged woman, springing excitedly to her feet, the look of a slumbering demon in her dusky eyes. 

"After twenty years of jealousy, bickering, and turmoil, you shouldhave said, Anna, " was the bitter response. 

"Beware! Beware, Gerald! I have hot blood in my veins, as you verywell know, " was the menacing retort. 

"I have long had a proof of that, " he returned, with quiet irony. 

"Oh!" she cried, putting up her hand as if to ward off a blow, "youare cruel to me. " Then, with sudden passion, she added: "Perhaps, after all, that document is in your possession--or at least that youknow something about it. "

"I only wish your surmise were correct, Anna; for, in that case, Ishould have no cause to fear her, " said Mr. Goddard, gravely. 

"Ha! Even you do 'fear' her?" cried madam, eagerly. "In what way?"

"Can you not see? If she has gained possession of the paper, she hasit in her power to do both of us irreparable harm, " the gentlemanexplained. 

Anna Goddard shivered. 

"Yes, yes, " she moaned, "she could make society ring with ournames--she could ruin us, socially; but"--shooting a stealthy glanceat her companion, who sat with bowed head and clouded brow--"I couldbetter bear that than that she should assert a claim upon you--thatshe should use her power to--to separate us. She shall not, Gerald!"she went on, passionately; "there are other countries where you and Ican go and be happy, utterly indifferent to what she may do here. "

The man made no reply to these words--he was apparently absorbed inhis own thoughts. 

"Gerald! have you nothing to say to me?" madam sharply cried, afterwatching him for a full minute. 

"What can I say, Anna? There is nothing that either of us can do butawait further developments, " the man returned, but careful to keep tohimself the fact that he had an appointment with the woman whom she sofeared and hated. 

"Would you dare to be false to me, after all these years?" hiscompanion demanded, in repressed tones, and leaning toward him withflaming eyes. 

"Pshaw, Anna! what a senseless question, " he replied, with a forcedlaugh. 

"But you admire--you think her very beautiful?" she questioned, eagerly. 

"Why, that is a self-evident fact--every one must admit that she is afine-looking woman, " was the somewhat evasive response. 

Anna Goddard sprang to her feet, her face scarlet. 

"You will be very careful what you do, Gerald, " she hissed. "I havenever had overmuch confidence in you, in spite of my love for you; butthere is one thing that I will not bear, at this late day, and thatis, that you should turn traitor to me; so be warned in time. "

She did not wait to see what effect her words would have upon him, but, turning abruptly, swept from the room, leaving him to his ownreflections. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

"I SHALL NEVER FORGIVE EITHER OF YOU FOR YOUR SIN AGAINST ME. "

The morning following the great Goddard ball at Wyoming, found Edithmuch better, greatly to the surprise of every one. 

She was quite weak, as was but natural after such a shock to hersystem, both physically and mentally; but she had slept very quietlythrough the night, after the housekeeper had gone to her and thrownthe protection of her presence around her. 

At Emil Correlli's request, the physician had remained in the houseall night, in case he should be wanted; and when he visited her quiteearly in the morning, he expressed himself very much gratified to findher so comfortable, and said she would do well enough without anyfurther medical treatment, but advised her to keep quiet for a day ortwo. 

This Edith appeared perfectly willing to do, and lay contentedly amongher pillows, watching her kind nurse while she put the room in order, making no remarks, asking no questions, but with a look of graveresolve growing in her eyes and about her sweet mouth, which betrayedthat she was doing a good deal of thinking upon some subject. 

Mrs. Goddard came to her door immediately after breakfast, but Edithrefused to see her. 

She had told Mrs. Weld not to admit any one; therefore, when the ladyof the house sought admittance, the housekeeper firmly butrespectfully denied her entrance. 

"But I have something very important to say to Edith, " madampersisted. 

"Then it had best be left unsaid until the poor girl is stronger, "Mrs. Weld replied, without moving her portly proportions and holdingthe door firmly in her hand. 

"I have a message from my brother for her--it is necessary that Ishould deliver it, " Mrs. Goddard obstinately returned. Mrs. Weldlooked back into the room inquiringly. 

"I do not wish to see any one, " Edith weakly responded, but in a voiceof decision which told the listener outside that the girl had nointention of yielding the point. 

"Very well; then I will wait until she feels stronger, " said thebaffled woman, whereupon she beat an ignominious retreat, and theinvalid was left in peace. 

Mrs. Weld spent as much time as possible with her, but she of coursehad her duties below to attend to; so, at Edith's request, she lockedher in and took the key with her when she was obliged to godownstairs. 

Once, while she was absent, some one crept stealthily to the door andknocked. 

Edith started up, and leaned upon her elbow, a momentary look of fearsweeping her face; but she made no response. 

The knock was repeated. 

Still the girl remained motionless and voiceless, only her great blueeyes began to blaze with mingled indignation and contempt, for sheknew, instinctively, who was seeking admission. 

"Miss Al--Edith, I must speak with you--I must have an interview withyou, " said the voice of Emil Correlli from without. 

Still no answer from within; but the dazzling gleam in the girl's eyesplainly showed that that voice had aroused all the spirit within herin spite of her weak condition. 

"Pray grant me an interview, Edith--I have much to say to you--muchto explain--much to entreat of you, " continued the voice, with a noteof earnest appeal. 

But he might as well have addressed the walls for all the effect heproduced. 

There was a moment or two of silence, then the man continued, withsomething of authority:

"I have the right to come to you, Edith--I have a right to demand thatyou regard my wishes. If you are not prepared to receive me just now, name some time when I can see you, and I will wait patiently yourpleasure; only speak and tell me that you will comply with myrequest. "

It was both a pretty and a striking picture behind that closed door, if he could but have seen it--the fair girl, in her snowy robe, overwhich she had slipped a pretty light blue sack, reclining upon herelbow, her beautiful hair falling in graceful confusion about hershoulders; her violet eyes gleaming with a look of triumph in heradvantage over the man without; her lips--into which the color wasbeginning to flow naturally again--parted just enough to reveal themilk-white teeth between them. 

When the man outside asserted his right to come to her, the only signshe had made was a little toss of her golden-crowned head, indicativeof defiance, while about the corners of her lovely mouth there lurkeda smile of scorn that would have been maddening to Emil Correlli couldhe have seen it. 

At last a discontented muttering and the sound of retreating steps inthe hall told her that her persecutor had become discouraged, andgone. Then, with a sigh of relief, she sank back upon her pillowfeeling both weak and weary from excitement. 

Left alone once more, she fell into deep thought. 

In spite of a feeling of despair which, at times, surged over her inview of the trying position in which she found herself, the basedeception practiced upon her, aroused a spirit of indomitableresistance, to battle for herself and her outraged feelings, andoutwit, if possible, these enemies of her peace. 

"They have done this wicked thing--that woman and her brother, " shesaid to herself; "they have cunningly plotted to lure me into thistrap; but, though they have succeeded in fettering me for life, thatis all the satisfaction that they will ever reap from their scheme. They cannot compel me, against my will, to live with a man whom Iabhor. Even though I stood up before that multitude last evening, andappeared a willing actor in that disgraceful sacrilegious scene, noone can make me abide by it, and I shall denounce and defy them both;the world shall at least ring with scorn for their deed, even though Icannot free myself by proving a charge of fraud against them. But, oh--"

The proud little head suddenly drooped, and with a moan of pain shecovered her convulsed face with her hands, as her thoughts flew to acertain room in New York, where she had spent one happy, blissful weekin learning to love, with all her soul, the man whom she had served. 

She had believed, as we know, that her love for Royal Bryant washopeless--at least she had told herself so, and that she could neverlink her fate with his, after learning of her shameful origin. 

Yet, now that there appeared to have arisen an even greater barrier, she began to realize that all hope had not been quite dead--that, inher heart, she had all the time been nursing a tender shoot ofaffection, and a faint belief that her lover would never relinquishhis desire to win her. 

But these sad thoughts finally set her mind running in anotherchannel, and brought a gleam of hope to her. 

"He is a true and honorable man, " she mused, "I will appeal to him inmy trouble; and if any one can find a loop-hole of escape for me I amsure he will be able to do so. "

When Mrs. Weld brought her lunch, she sat up and ate it eagerly, resolved to get back her strength as soon as possibly in order tocarry out her project at an early date. While she was eating, she toldher friend of Emil Correlli's visit and its result. 

"Why cannot they let you alone!" the woman cried, indignantly. "Theyshall not persecute you so. "

"No, I do not intend they shall, " Edith quietly replied, "but I thinkby to-morrow morning, I shall feel strong enough for an interview, when we will have my relations toward them established for all time, "and by the settling of the girl's pretty chin, Mrs. Weld was convincedthat she would be lacking in neither spirit nor decision. 

"If you feel able to talk about it now, I wish you would tell meexactly how they managed to hoodwink you to such an extent. Perhaps Imay be of some service to you, when the matter comes to a crisis, " thewoman remarked, as she studied the sweet face before her with kind andpitying eyes. 

And Edith related just how Mrs. Goddard had drawn her into the net byrepresenting that two of her actors had been called away in the midstof the play and that the whole representation would be spoiled unlessshe would consent to help her out. 

"It was very cleverly done, " said Mrs. Weld, when she concluded; butshe looked grave, for she saw that the entire affair had been soadroitly managed, it would be very difficult to prove that Edith hadnot been in the secret and a willing actor in the drama. "But do notworry, child; you may depend upon me to do my utmost to help you inevery possible way. "

The next morning Edith was able to be up and dressed, and she began topack her trunk, preparatory to going away. The guests had all left onthe previous day, and everything was being put in order for the houseto be closed for the remainder of the winter, while it was stated thatthe family would return to the city on the next day, which would beThursday. 

Edith had almost everything ready for removal by noon, and, afterlunch was over, sent word to Mrs. Goddard that she would like aninterview with her. 

The woman came immediately, and Edith marveled to see how pale andworn she looked--how she had appeared to age during the last day ortwo. 

"I am so glad that you have decided to see me, Edith, " she remarked, in a fondly confidential tone, as she drew a chair to the girl's sideand sat down. "My brother is nearly distracted with grief and remorseover what has happened, and the attitude which you have assumed towardhim. He adores you--he will be your slave if you only take the rightway to win him. Surely, you will forgive him for the deception whichhis great affection led him to practice upon you, " she concluded, witha coaxing smile, such as she would have assumed in dealing with afractious child. 

"No, " said Edith, with quiet decision, "I shall never forgive eitherof you for your sin against me--it is beyond pardon. "

"Ah! I will not intercede for myself--but think how Emil loves you, "pleaded her companion. 

"You should have said, 'think how he loves himself, ' madam, " Edithrejoined, with a scornful curl of her lips, "for nothing but therankest selfishness could ever have led a person to commit an act ofsuch duplicity and sacrilege as that which he and you adopted tosecure your own ends. He does not desire to be pardoned. His onlydesire is that I should relent and yield to him--which I never shalldo. "

As she uttered these last words, she emphasized them with a decidedlittle gesture of her left hand that betrayed a relentless purpose. 

"Ah!" she cried, the next moment, with a start, the movement havingattracted her eye to the ring upon her third finger, which until thatmoment she had entirely forgotten. 

With a shiver of repulsion, she snatched it off and tossed it into thelap of her companion. 

"Take it back to him, " she said. "I had forgotten I had it on; Idespise myself for having worn it even until now. "

Madam flushed angrily at her act and words. 

"You are very hard--you are very obdurate, " she said, sharply. 

"Very well; you can put whatever construction you choose upon thestand I have taken, but do not for a moment deceive yourself byimagining that I will ever consent to be known as Emil Correlli'swife; death would be preferable!" Edith calmly responded. 

"Most girls would only be too eager and proud to assume theposition--they would be sincerely grateful for the luxuries andpleasures they would enjoy as my brother's wife, " Mrs. Goddard coldlyremarked, but with an angry gleam in her eyes. 

A little smile of contempt curled the corners of Edith's red mouth;but otherwise she did not deign to notice these boasting comments, acircumstance which so enraged her companion that she felt, for amoment, like strangling the girl there and then. 

But there was far more to be considered than her own personalfeelings, and she felt obliged to curb herself for the time. 

If scandal was to be avoided, she must leave no inducement untried tobend Edith's stubborn will, and madam herself was too proud tocontemplate anything so humiliating; she was willing to do or bearalmost anything to escape becoming a target for the fashionable worldto shoot their arrows of ridicule at. 

"Edith, I beg that you will listen to me, " she earnestly pleaded, after a few moments of thought. "This thing is done and cannot beundone, and now I want you to be reasonable and think of theadvantages which, as Emil's wife, you may enjoy. You are a poor girl, without home or friends, and obliged to work for your living. There isan escape from all this if you will be tractable; you can have abeautiful house elegantly furnished, horses, carriages, diamonds, andvelvets--in fact, not a wish you choose to express ungratified. Youmay travel the world over, if you desire, with no other object in viewthan to enjoy yourself. On the other hand, if you refuse, there willbe no end of scandal--you will ruin the reputation of our wholefamily--Emil will become the butt of everybody's scorn and ridicule. Ishall never be able to show my face again in society, either in Bostonor New York; and my husband, who has always occupied a high position, will be terribly shocked and humiliated. "

Edith listened quietly to all that she had to say, not onceattempting to interrupt her; but when madam finally paused, inexpectation of a reply, she simply remarked:

"You should have thought of all this, madam, before you plotted forthe ruin of my life; I am not responsible for the consequences of yourtreachery and crime. "

"Crime! that is an ugly word, " tartly cried Mrs. Goddard, who began tofind the tax upon her patience almost greater than she could bear. 

"Nevertheless, it is the correct term to apply to what you havedone--it is what I shall charge you with--"

"What! do you dare to tell me that you intend to appeal to thecourts?" exclaimed madam, aghast. 

She had fondly imagined that, the deed once done, the girl having nofriends whose protection she could claim, would make the best of it, and gracefully yield to the situation. 

"That is what I intend to do. "

Anna Goddard's face was almost livid at this intrepid response. 

"And you utterly refuse to listen to reason?" she inquired, strugglinghard for self-control. 

"I utterly refuse to be known as Emil Correlli's wife, if that is whatyou mean by 'reason, '" said Edith, calmly. 

"Girl! girl! take care--do not try my patience too far, " cried hercompanion, with a flash of passion, "or we may have to resort todesperate measures with you. "

"Such as what, if you please?" inquired Edith, still unmoved. 

"That remains to be seen; but I warn you that you are bringing onlywrath upon your own head. We shall never allow you to create ascandal--we shall find a way to compel you to do as we wish. "

"That you can never do!" and the beautiful girl proudly faced thewoman with such an undaunted air and look that she involuntarilyquailed before her. "It is my nature, " she went on, after a slightpause, "to be gentle and yielding in all things reasonable, and when Iam kindly treated; but injustice and treachery, such as you have beenguilty of, always arouse within me a spirit which a thousand like youand your brother could never bend nor break. "

"Do not be too sure, my pretty young Tartar, " retorted madam, with adisagreeable sneer. 

"I rejected Monsieur Correlli's proposals to me some weeks ago, " Edithresumed, without heeding the rude interruption. "I made him clearlyunderstand, and you also, that I could never marry him. You appearedto accept the situation only to scheme for my ruin; but, even thoughyou have tricked me into compromising myself in the presence of manywitnesses, it was only a trick, and therefore no legal marriage. Atleast I do not regard myself as morally bound; and, as I have saidbefore, I shall appeal to the courts to annul whatever tie there maybe supposed to exist. This is my irrevocable decision--nothing canchange it--nothing will ever swerve me a hair's breadth from it. Gotell your brother, and then let me alone--I will never renew thesubject with either of you. "

And as Edith ceased she turned her resolute face to the window, andAnna Goddard knew that she had meant every word that she had uttered. 

She was amazed by this show of spirit and decision. 

The girl had always been a perfect model of gentleness and kindness, ready to do whatever was required of her, obliging and invariablysweet-tempered. 

She could hardly realize that the cold, determined, defiant, undauntedsentences to which she had just listened could have fallen from thelips of the mild, quiet Edith whom she had hitherto known. 

But, as may be imagined, such an attitude from one who had been aservant to her was not calculated to soothe her ruffled feelings, andafter the first flash of astonishment, anger got the better of her. 

"Do you imagine you can defy us thus?" she cried, laying an almostbrutal grip upon the girl's arm, as she arose to abandon, for thetime, her apparently fruitless task. "No, indeed! You will find toyour cost that you have stronger wills than your own to cope with. "

With these hot words, Anna Goddard swept angrily from the room, leaving her victim alone. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

"I WILL NEVER BREAK BREAD WITH YOU, AT ANY TABLE. "

As the door closed after the angry and baffled woman, the portly formof the housekeeper entered the room from an apartment adjoining, where, as had been previously arranged between Edith and herself, shehad been stationed to overhear the whole of the foregoingconversation. 

"What can I do?" sighed the young girl, wearily, and lifting ananxious glance to her companion; for, in spite of her apparentcalmness throughout the recent interview, it had been a terriblestrain upon her already shattered nerves. 

"Nothing just yet, dear, but to try and get well and strong as soon aspossible, " cheerfully responded Mrs. Weld. 

"Did you hear how she threatened me?"

"Yes, but her threats were only so many idle words--they cannot harmyou; you need not fear them. "

"But I do; somehow, I am impressed that they are plotting even greaterwrongs against me, " sighed Edith, who, now that the necessity ofpreserving a bold front was passed, seemed to lose her courage. 

"They will not dare--" began Mrs. Weld, with some excitement. Then, suddenly checking herself, she added, soothingly: "But do not worryany more about it now, child--you never need 'cross a bridge until youcome it. ' Lie down and rest a while; it will do you good, and maybeyou will catch a little nap, while I go down to see that everything ismoving smoothly in the dining-room and kitchen. "

Edith was only too willing to heed this sensible advice, and, shortlyafter the housekeeper's departure, fell into a restful sleep. 

She did not awake until it was nearly dark, when, feeling muchrefreshed, she arose and dressed herself resolving that she would nottrouble tired Mrs. Weld to bring up her dinner, but go downstairs andhave it with her, as usual. 

The house was very quiet, for, all the guests having gone, there wasonly the family and the servants in the house. 

Edith remained in her room until she heard the dinner-bell ring, whenshe went to the door to listen for Mr. And Mrs. Goddard and EmilCorrelli to go down, before she ventured forth, for she had a specialobject in view. 

Presently she heard them enter the dining-room, whereupon she stolesoftly down after them and slipped into the library in search of thedaily papers. 

She found one, the _Transcript_, and then hurried back to her room, lighted the gas, and sat down to read. 

Immediately a low cry of dismay burst from her, for the first thingthat caught her eye were some conspicuous head-lines announcing:

 "A STARTLING SURPRISE IN HIGH LIFE. "

These were followed by a vivid description of the festivities at theGoddard mansion in Wyoming, on the previous evening, mentioning the"unique and original drama, " which had wound up with "the greatsurprise" in the form of a "_bona fide_" marriage between the brotherof the beautiful and accomplished hostess, Mrs. Goddard, and a lovelygirl to whom the gentleman had long been attached, and whom he hadtaken this opportune and very novel way of introducing to his friendsand society in general. 

Then there followed a _résumé_ of the play, giving the names of thevarious actors, an account of the fine scenery and brilliant costumes, etc. 

The appearance of the masked bride and groom was then enlarged upon, an accurate description of the bride's elegant dress given, and a mostflattering mention made of her beauty and grace, together with theperfect dignity and repose of manner with which she bore herintroduction to the many friends of her husband during the receptionthat followed immediately after the ceremony. 

No mention was made of her having fainted afterward, and the articleconcluded with a flattering tribute to the host and hostess for thesuccess of their "Winter Frolic, " which ended so delightfully in thebrilliant and long-to-be-remembered ball. 

Edith's face was full of pain and indignation after reading thissensational account. 

She was sure that the affair had been written up by either madam orher brother, for the express purpose of bringing her moreconspicuously before the public, and with the intention of fasteningmore securely the chain that bound her to the villain who had sowronged her. 

"Oh, it is a plot worthy to be placed on record with the intrigues ofthe Court of France during the reign of Louis the Thirteenth andRichelieu!" Edith exclaimed. "But in this instance they have mistakenthe character of their victim, " she continued, throwing back her proudlittle head with an air of defiance, "for I will never yield to them;I will never acknowledge, by word or act, the tie which they claimbinds me to him, and I will leave no effort untried to break it. Heavens! what a daring, what an atrocious wrong it was!" sheexclaimed, with a shudder of repugnance; "and I am afraid that, asidefrom my own statements, I cannot bring one single fact to prove acharge of fraud against either of them. "

She fell into a painful reverie, mechanically folding the paper as shesat rocking slowly back and forth trying to think of some way ofescape from her unhappy situation. 

But, at last, knowing that it was about time for Mrs. Weld to have herdinner, she arose to go down to join her. 

As she did so the paper slipped from her hands to the floor. 

She stooped to pick it up when an item headed, in large letters"Personal" caught her eye. 

Without imagining that it could have any special interest for her, sheglanced in an aimless way over it. 

Suddenly every nerve was electrified. 

"What is this?" she exclaimed, and read the paragraph again. 

The following was the import of it:

 "If Miss Allandale, who disappeared so suddenly from New York, on the 13th of last December, will call upon or send her address to Bryant & Co. , Attorneys, No. ---- Broadway, she will learn of something greatly to her advantage in a financial way. "

"How very strange! What can it mean?" murmured the astonished girl, the rich color mounting to her brow as she realized that Royal Bryantmust have inserted this "personal" in the paper in the hope that itwould meet her eye. 

"Who in the world is there to feel interested in me or my financialcondition?" she continued, with a look of perplexity. 

At first it occurred to her that Mr. Bryant might have taken this wayto ascertain where she was from personal motives; but she soondiscarded this thought, telling herself that he would never be guiltyof practicing deception in any way to gain his ends. If he had simplydesired her address he would have asked for that alone without thepromise of any pecuniary reward. 

She stood thinking the matter over for several moments. 

At last her face cleared and a look of resolution flashed into hereyes. 

"I will do it!" she murmured, "I will go back at once to New York--Iwill ascertain what this advertisement means, then I will tell him allthat has happened to me here, and ask him if there is any way by whichI can be released from this dreadful situation, into which I have beentrapped. I am sure he will help me, if any one can. "

A faint, tender smile wreathed her lips as she mused thus, andrecalled her last interview with Royal Bryant; his fond, eager wordswhen he told her of her complete vindication at the conclusion of hertrial in New York--of his tender look and hand-clasp when he bade hergood-by at the door of the carriage that bore her home to her mother. 

She began to think that she had perhaps not used him quite fairly inrunning away and hiding herself thus from him who had been so true afriend to her; and yet, if she remained in his employ, and he hadasked her to be his wife, she knew that she must either have refusedhim, without giving him a sufficient reason, or else confessed to himher shameful origin. 

"It would have been better, perhaps, if I had never come away, " shesighed, "still it is too late now to regret it, and all I can do is tocomply with the request of this 'personal. ' I would leave this verynight, only there are some things at the other house that I must takewith me. But to-morrow night I will go, and I shall have to stealaway, or they will find some way to prevent my going. I will not eventell dear Mrs. Weld, although she has been so kind to me; but I willwrite and explain it all to her after my arrival in New York. "

Having settled this important matter in her mind, Edith went quietlydownstairs, and returned the paper to the library, after which sherepaired to the tiny room where she and Mrs. Weld were in the habit oftaking their meals. 

The kind-hearted woman chided her for coming down two flights ofstairs, while she was still so weak; but Edith assured her that shereally began to feel quite like herself again, and could not think ofallowing her to wait upon her when she was so weary from her ownnumerous duties. 

They had a pleasant chat over their meal, the young girl appearing farmore cheerful than one would have naturally expected under existingcircumstances. She flushed with painful embarrassment, however, when aservant came in to wait upon them, and gave her a stare of undisguisedastonishment, which plainly told her that he thought her place was inthe dining-room with the family. 

She understood by it that all the servants knew what had occurred theprevious night, and believed her to be the wife of Emil Correlli. 

But nothing else occurred to mar the meal, and when it was finishedEdith started to go up to her room again. 

She went up the back way, hoping thus to avoid meeting any member ofthe family. 

She reached the landing upon the second floor and was about to mountanother flight when there came a swift step over the front stairs, and, before she could escape, Emil Correlli came into view. 

Another instant and he was by her side. 

"Edith!" he exclaimed, astonished to see her there, "where have youbeen?"

"Down to my dinner, " she quietly replied, but confronting him withundaunted bearing. 

"Down to your dinner?" he repeated, flushing hotly, a look of keenannoyance sweeping over his face. "If you were able to leave your roomat all, your place was in the dining-room, with the family, and, " headded, sternly, "I do not wish any gossip among the servants regardingmy--wife. "

It was Edith's turn to flush now, at that obnoxious term. 

"You will please spare me all allusion to that mockery, " she bitterly, but haughtily, retorted. 

"It was no mockery--it was a _bona fide_ marriage, " he returned. "Youare my lawful wife, and I wish you, henceforth, to occupy your properposition as such. "

"I am not your wife. I shall never acknowledge, by word or act, anysuch relationship toward you, " she calmly, but decidedly, responded. 

"Oh, yes you will. "

"Never!"

"But you have already done so, and there are hundreds of people whocan prove it, " he answered, hotly, but with an air of triumph. 

"It will be a comparatively easy matter to make public a truestatement of the case, " said the girl, looking him straight in theeyes. 

"You will not dare set idle tongues gossiping by repudiating ourunion!" exclaimed the young man, fiercely. 

"I should dare anything that would set me free from you, " was thedauntless response. 

Her companion gnashed his teeth with rage. 

"You would find very few who would believe your statements, " he said;"for, besides the fact that hundreds witnessed the ceremony lastnight, the papers have published full accounts of the affair, and thewhole city now knows about it. "

"I know it--I have read the papers, " said Edith, without appearing inthe least disconcerted. 

"What! already?"

"Yes. "

"Well, what did you think of the account?" her companion inquired, regarding her curiously. 

"That it was simply another clever piece of duplicity on your part, the only object of which was the accomplishment of your nefariouspurposes. I believe you yourself were the author of it. "

Emil Correlli started as if he had been stung. 

He did not dream that she would attribute the article to him--the lastthing he could wish would be that she should think it had emanatedfrom his pen. 

Nevertheless, his admiration for her was increased tenfold by hershrewdness in discerning the truth. 

"You judge me harshly, " he said, bitterly. 

"I have no reason for judging you otherwise, " Edith coldly remarked;then added, haughtily: "Allow me to pass, sir, if you please. "

"I do not please. Oh, Edith, pray be reasonable; come into Anna'sboudoir, and let us talk this matter over amicably and calmly, " hepleaded, laying a gentle hand upon her arm. 

She shook it off as if it had been a reptile. 

"No, sir; I shall discuss nothing with you, either now or at any othertime. If, " she added, a fiery gleam in her beautiful eyes, "it is everdiscussed in my presence it will be before a judge and jury!"

The man bit his lips to repress an oath. 

"Yes, Anna told me you threatened that; but I hoped it was only anidle menace, " he said. "Do you really mean that you intend to file anapplication to have the marriage annulled?"

"Most assuredly--at least, if, indeed, after laying the matter beforethe proper authorities, such a formality is deemed necessary, " saidthe girl, with a scornful inflection that cut her listener to thequick. 

He grew deadly white, more at her contemptuous tones than her threat. 

"Edith--what can I say to win you?" he cried, after a momentarystruggle with himself. "I swear to you that I cannot--will not livewithout you. I will be your slave--your lightest wish shall be my law, if you will yield this point--come with me as my honored wife, and letme, by my love and unceasing efforts, try to win even your friendlyregard. I know I have done wrong, " he went on, assuming a tone and airof humility; "I see it now when it is too late. I ask you to pardonme, and let me atone in whatever way you may deem best. See!--Ikneel--I beg--I implore!"

And suiting the action to the words, he dropped upon one knee beforeher and extended his hands in earnest appeal to her. 

"In whatever way I may deem best you will atone?" she repeated, looking him gravely in the face. "Then make a public confession of thefraud of which you have been guilty, and give me my freedom. "

"Ah, anything but that--anything but that!" he exclaimed, flushingconsciously beneath her gaze. 

She moved back a pace or two from him, her lips curling with contempt. 

"Your appeal was but a wretched farce--it is worse than useless--it isdespicable, " she said, with an accent that made him writhe like awhipped cur. 

"Will nothing move you?" he passionately cried. 

"Nothing. "

"By Heaven! then I will meet you blade to blade!" he cried, furiously, and springing to his feet, his eyes blazing with passion. "Ifentreaties will not move you--if neither bribes nor promises willcause you to yield--we will try what lawful authority will do. I haveno intention of being made the laughing stock of the world, I assureyou; and, hereafter, I command that you conduct yourself in a mannerbecoming the position which I have given you. In the first place, then, to-morrow morning, you will breakfast in the dining-room withthe family--do you hear?"

Edith had stood calmly regarding him during this speech; but, wishinghim to go on, if he had anything further to say, she did not attemptto reply as he paused after the above question. 

"Immediately after breakfast, " he resumed, with something less ofexcitement, and not feeling very comfortable beneath her unwaveringglance, "we shall return to the city, and the following morning youand I will start for St. Augustine, Florida--thence go to Californiaand later to Europe. "

The young girl straightened herself to her full height, and she hadnever seemed more lovely than at that moment. 

"Monsieur Correlli, " she said, in a voice that rang with anirrevocable decision, "I shall never go to Florida with you, nor yetto California, neither to Europe; I shall never appear anywhere withyou in public, neither will I ever break bread with you, at any table. There, sir, you have my answer to your 'commands. ' Now, let me pass. "

Without waiting to see what effect her remarks might have upon him, she pushed resolutely by him and went swiftly upstairs to her room. 

The man gazed after her in undisguised astonishment. 

"By St. Michael! the girl has a tremendous spirit in that slight frameof hers. She has always seemed such a sweet little angel, too--no onewould have suspected it. However, there are more ways than one toaccomplish my purpose, and I flatter myself that I shall yet conquerher. "

With this comforting reflection, he sought his sister, to relate whathad occurred, and enlist her crafty talents in planning his next movein the desperate game he was playing. 

CHAPTER XX. 

EDITH RESOLVES TO MEET HER ENEMIES WITH THEIR OWN WEAPONS. 

The morning following her interview with Emil Correlli, when Edithattempted to leave her room to go down to breakfast, she found, to herdismay, that her door had been fastened on the outside. 

An angry flush leaped to her brow. 

"So they imagine they can make me bend to their will by making aprisoner of me, do they?" she exclaimed, with flashing eyes andscornful lips. "We shall see!"

But she was powerless just then to help herself, and so was obliged tomake the best of her situation for the present. 

Presently some one knocked upon her door, and she heard a boltmoved--it having been placed there during the night. Then Mrs. Goddardappeared before her, smiling a gracious good-morning, and bearing atray, upon which there was a daintily arranged breakfast. 

"We thought it best for you to eat here, since you do not feel likecoming down to the dining-room, " she kindly remarked, as she set thetray upon the table. 

Edith opened her lips to make some scathing retort; but, a brightthought suddenly flashing through her mind, she checked herself, andreplied, appreciatively:

"Thank you, Mrs. Goddard. "

The woman turned a surprised look upon her, for she had expected onlytears and reproaches from her because of her imprisonment. 

But Edith, without appearing to notice it, sat down and quietlyprepared to eat her breakfast. 

"Ah! she is beginning to come around, " thought the wily woman. 

But, concealing her secret pleasure at this change in her victim, sheremarked, in her ordinary tone:

"We shall leave for the city very soon after breakfast, so please haveeverything ready so as not to keep the horses standing in the cold. "

"Everything is ready now, " said Edith, glancing at her trunk, whichshe had locked just before trying the door. 

"That is well, and I will send for you when the carriage comesaround. "

Edith simply bowed to show that she heard, and then her companionretired, locking the door after her, but marveling at the girl'sapparent submission. 

"There is no way to outwit rogues except with their ownweapons--cunning and deceit, " murmured the fair prisoner, bitterly, asshe began to eat her breakfast. "I will be very wary and apparentlysubmissive until I have matured my plans, and then they may chew theircud of defeat as long as it pleases them to do so. "

After finishing her meal she dressed herself for the coming drive, butwondered why Mrs. Weld had not been up to see her, for, of course, shemust know that something unusual had happened, or that she was illagain, since she had not joined her at breakfast. 

A little later she heard a stealthy step outside her door, and thenext moment an envelope was slipped beneath it into her room; then thesteps retreated, and all was still again. 

Rising, Edith picked up the missive and opened it, when another sealedenvelope, addressed to her, in a beautiful, lady-like hand, andpostmarked Boston, was revealed, together with a brief note hastilywritten with a pencil. 

This latter proved to be from Mrs. Weld. 

 "Dear Child, " it ran, "I have been requested not to go to you this morning, as you are particularly engaged, which, of course, I understand as a command to keep out of the way. But I want you to know that I mean to stand by you, and shall do all in my power to help you. I shall manage to see or write to you again in a day or two. Meantime, don't lose heart. 

 "Affectionately yours, "GERTRUDE WELD. 

 "P. S. --The inclosed letter came for you in last night's mail. I captured it for you. "

With an eager light in her eyes, Edith opened it and read:

 "Boston, Feb. --, 18--. 

 "MY DEAR MISS ALLEN:--I have learned of the wretched deception that has been practiced upon you, and hasten to write this to assure you that my previous offer of friendship--when we met at the time of the accident to my coachman--was not a mere matter of form. Again I say, if you need a friend, come to me, and I will do my utmost to shield you from those who have shown themselves your worst enemies, and whom I know to be unworthy of the position which they occupy in the social world. Come to me when you will, and I promise to protect you from them. I cannot say more upon paper. 

 "Sincerely yours, ISABEL STEWART. "

"How very kind, and yet how very strange!" murmured Edith, as sherefolded the letter. "I wonder who could have told her about thatwretched affair of Tuesday evening. I wonder, too, what she knowsabout the Goddards, and if I had better accept her friendly offer. "

She reflected upon the matter for a few minutes, and then continued:

"I think I will go to New York first, as I had planned, see what Mr. Bryant can do for me, and ascertain the meaning of that strangepersonal; then I think I will come back and ask her to take me as acompanion--for I do not believe that what I shall learn to myfinancial advantage will amount to enough to preclude the necessity ofmy doing something for my support. I suppose I ought to answer thisletter, though, " she added, meditatively; "but I believe I shall notdare to until I am safely away from Boston, for if my reply shouldfall into the hands of any member of this family, my plans might befrustrated. "

She carefully concealed both notes about her person, and then sat downto await orders to go below. 

A little later Mrs. Goddard came to her and said they were about readyto leave for the city, and requested her to go down into the hall. 

Edith arose with apparent alacrity, and madam noticed with anexpression of satisfaction that her bearing was less aggressive thanwhen they had last met. 

She followed Mrs. Goddard downstairs and seated herself in the hall toawait the signal for departure. 

Presently Mr. Goddard came in from outdoors. 

He started slightly upon seeing Edith, then paused and inquired kindlyif she was feeling quite well again. 

Edith thanked him, and briefly remarked that she was, when he startledher by stooping suddenly and whispering in her ear:

"Count upon me as your friend, my child; I promise you that I will doall in my power to help you thwart your enemies. "

He waited for no answer, but passed quickly on and entered thelibrary. 

Edith was astonished, and while, for the moment, she was touched byhis unexpected offer of assistance, she at the same time distrustedhim. 

"I will trust myself and my fate with no one but Royal Bryant, " shesaid to herself, a flush of excitement rising to her cheek. 

A few minutes later the carriage was driven to the door--the snowhaving become so soft they were obliged to return to the city onwheels--when Mrs. Goddard came hurrying from the dining-room, whereshe had been giving some last orders to the servants, and biddingEdith follow her, passed out of the house and entered the carriage. 

Edith was scarcely seated beside her when Emil Correlli made hisappearance and settled himself opposite her. 

The young girl flushed, but, schooling herself to carry out the partwhich she had determined to assume for the present, made no other signto betray how distasteful his presence was to her. 

She could not, however, bring herself to join in any conversation, except, once or twice, to respond to a direct question from madam, although the young man tried several times to draw her out, until, finally discouraged, he relapsed into a sullen and moody silence, greatly to the disgust of his sister, who seemed nervously inclined totalk. 

Upon their arrival in town, Mrs. Goddard remarked to Edith:

"I have been obliged to take, for a servant, the room you used tooccupy, dear; consequently, you will have to go into the south chamberfor the present. Thomas, " turning to a man and pointing to Edith'strunk, "take this trunk directly up to the south chamber. "

Edith's heart gave a startled bound at this unexpected change. 

The "south chamber" was the handsomest sleeping apartment in thehouse--the guest chamber, in fact--and she understood at once why ithad thus been assigned to her. 

It was intended that she should pose and be treated in every respectas became the wife of madam's brother, and thus the best room in thehouse had been set apart for her use. 

She knew that it would be both useless and unwise to make anyobjections; the change had been determined upon, and doubtless her oldroom was already occupied by a servant, to prevent the possibility ofher returning to it. 

Thus, after the first glance of surprise at madam, she turned andquietly followed the man who was taking up her trunk. 

But, on entering the "south chamber, " another surprise awaited her, for the apartment had been fitted up with even greater luxury thanprevious to their leaving for the country. 

The man unstrapped her trunk and departed, when Edith looked aroundher with a flushed and excited face. 

A beautiful little rocker, of carved ivory, inlaid with gold, wasstanding in the bay-window overlooking the avenue, and beside it therewas an exquisite work-stand to match. 

An elegant writing-desk, of unique design, and furnished witheverything a lady of the daintiest tastes could desire, stood nearanother sunny window. The inkstand, paper weight, and blotter were ofsilver; the pen of gold, with a costly pearl handle. 

There were several styles of paper and envelopes, and all stamped ingilt with a monogram composed of the initials E. C. , and there was atiny box of filigree silver filled with postage stamps. 

It was an outfit to make glad the heart of almost any beauty-lovinggirl; but Edith's eyes flashed with angry scorn the moment she caughtsight of the dainty monogram, wrought in gold, upon the paper andenvelopes. 

On the dressing-case there was a full set of toilet and manicureutensils, in solid silver, and also marked with the same initials;besides these there were exquisite bottles of cut glass, with goldstoppers filled with various kinds of perfumery. 

Upon the bed there lay an elegant sealskin garment, which, at aglance, Edith knew must have been cut to fit her figure, and beside itthere was a pretty muff and a Parisian hat that could not have costless than thirty dollars, while over the foot-board there hung threeor four beautiful dresses. 

"Did they suppose that they could buy me over--tempt me to sell myselffor this gorgeous finery?" the indignant girl exclaimed, in a voicethat quivered with anger. "They must think me very weak-minded andvariable if they did. "

But her curiosity was excited to see how far they had carried theirextravagant bribery; and, going back to the dressing-case, she drewout the upper drawer. 

Notwithstanding her indignation and scorn, she could not suppress acry of mingled astonishment and admiration at what she saw there, forthe receptacle contained the daintiest lingerie imaginable. 

There were beautiful laces, handkerchiefs, and gloves, suitable forevery occasion; three or four fans of costly material and exquisiteworkmanship; a pair of pearl-and-gold opera glasses. 

More than this, and arranged so as to cunningly tempt the eye, therewere several cases of jewels--comprising pearls, diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. 

It was an array to tempt the most obdurate heart and fancy, and Edithstood gazing upon the lovely things with admiring eyes while, after amoment, a little sigh of regret accompanied her resolute act ofshutting the drawer and turning the key in its lock. 

The second and third contained several suits of exquisite underwear offinest material, and comprising everything that a lady could need ordesire in that line; in the fourth drawer there were boxes of silkenhose of various colors, together with lovely French boots and slipperssuitable for different costumes. 

"What a pity to spend so much money for nothing, " Edith murmured, regretfully, when she had concluded her inspection. "It is veryevident that they look upon me as a silly, vacillating girl, who canbe easily managed and won over by pretty clothes and glitteringbaubles. I suppose there are girls whose highest ambition in life isto possess such things, and to lead an existence of luxury andpleasure--who would doubtless sell themselves for them; but I shouldhate and scorn myself for accepting anything of the kind from a manwhom I could neither respect nor love. "

She gave utterance to a heavy sigh as she closed the drawer and turnedaway from the dressing-case; not, however, because she longed topossess the beautiful things she had seen, but in view of thedifficulties which might lie before her to hamper her movements in theeffort to escape from her enemies. 

"I suppose I must remain here for a few hours at least, " shecontinued, an expression of anxiety flitting over her face, "and if Iexpect to carry out my plans successfully I must begin by assuming asubmissive role. "

She removed her hat and wraps, hanging them in a closet; then, goingto her trunk, she selected what few articles she would absolutely needon her journey to New York, and some important papers--among them theletters which her own mother had written--and after hastily makingthem up into a neat package, returned them again to the trunk forconcealment, until she should be ready to leave the house. 

This done, she sat down by a window to await and meet, with whatfortitude she could command, the next act in the drama of her life. 

Not long after she heard a step in the hall, then there came a knockon her door, and madam's voice called out:

"It is only I, Edith; may I come in?"

"Yes, come, " unhesitatingly responded the girl, and Mrs. Goddard, herface beaming with smiles and good nature, entered the room. 

"How do you like your new quarters, dear?" she inquired, searchingEdith's fair face with eager eyes. 

"Of course, everything is very beautiful, " she returned, glancingadmiringly around the apartment. 

"And are you pleased with the additions to the furnishings?--thechair, the work-table, and writing-desk?"

"I have never seen anything more lovely, " Edith replied, bendingforward as if to examine more closely the filigree stamp box on thedesk, but in reality to conceal the flush of scorn that leaped intoher eyes. 

"I knew you would like them, " said madam, with a little note oftriumph in her voice; "they are exquisite, and Emil is going to havethem carefully packed, and take them along for you to use wherever youstop in your travels. And the cloak and dresses--aren't they perfectlyelegant? The jewels, too, and other things in the dressing-case; haveyou seen them?"

"Yes, I have seen them all; but--but I am very sorry that so muchmoney should have been spent for me, " Edith faltered, a hot flush, which her companion interpreted as one of pleasure and gratifiedvanity, suffusing her cheeks. 

"Oh, the money is of no account, if you are only happy, " Mrs. Goddardlightly remarked. "And now, " she went on eagerly, "I want you to dressyourself just as nicely as you can, and be ready, when the bell rings, to come down to lunch, as it becomes--my sister. Will you, dear?" sheconcluded, coaxingly. "Do, Edith, be reasonable; let us bury thehatchet, and all be on good terms. "

"I--I do not think I can quite make up my mind to go down to lunch, "Edith faltered, with averted face. 

Madam frowned; she had begun to think her victory was won, and thedisappointment nettled her. But she controlled herself and remarkedpleasantly:

"Well, then, I will send up your lunch, if you will promise to comedown and dine with us, will you?"

Edith hesitated a moment; then, drawing a long breath, she remarked, as if with bashful hesitancy:

"I think, perhaps--I will go down later--by and by. "

"Now you are beginning to be sensible, dear, " said madam, flashing acovert look of exultation at her, "and Emil will be so happy. Put onthis silver-gray silk--it is so lovely, trimmed with white lace--andthe pearls; you will be charming in the costume. I am sorry I have togo directly after lunch, " she continued, regretfully, "but I have acall to make, and shall not be back for a couple of hours; but Emilwill be here; so if you can find it in your heart to be a little kindto him, just put on the gray silk--or anything else you mayprefer--and go down to him. May I tell him that you will?"

"I will not promise--at least until after you return, " murmured Edith, in a low voice. 

Madam could have laughed in triumph, for she believed the victory washers. 

"Well, perhaps you would feel a trifle shy about it, " she said, good-naturedly, "it would be pleasanter and easier for you, no doubt, if I were here, so I will come for you when I get back. Good-by, tillthen. "

And with a satisfied little nod and smile, madam left her and wentdownstairs to tell her brother that his munificence had won the day, and he would have no further trouble with a fractious bride. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER PAYS EDITH AN UNEXPECTED VISIT. 

Edith listened until she heard madam descend the stairs, when shesprang to her feet in a fever of excitement. 

"Oh, how I hate myself for practicing even that much of deceit!" shebitterly exclaimed; "to allow her to think for a moment that I havebeen won over by those baubles. Although I told her no lie, I dointend to go down by and by if I can see an opportunity to get out ofthe house. But I did so long to stand boldly up and repudiate herproposals and all these costly bribes. Dress myself in those things!"she continued, with a scornful glance toward the bed; "make myselflook 'pretty and nice, ' with the price of my self-respect, and then godown to flaunt before the man who has grossly insulted me by assumingthat he could bribe me to submission! I would rather be clothed inrags--the very sight of these things makes me sick at heart. "

She turned resolutely from them, and, drawing the stiffest and hardestchair in the room to a window, sat down with her back to theallurements around her and gazed out upon the street. 

She remained there until her lunch was sent up, when she ate enough tobarely satisfy her hunger, after which she went back to her post towatch for the departure of Mrs. Goddard. 

The house stood upon a corner, and thus faced upon two streets--theavenue in front, and at the side a cross-street that led through toBeacon street. Thus, Edith's room being upon the front of themansion, she had a wide outlook in two directions. 

Not long after stationing herself at the window, she saw Mrs. Goddardgo out, and then she began to wonder how she could manage to make herescape before her return. 

She knew that she was only a prisoner in the house, in spite of thefact that her door was not locked; that Emil Correlli had been leftbelow simply to act as her keeper; and, should she make the slightestattempt to escape, he would immediately intercept her. 

She could not get out of the house except by the front way, and to dothis she would have to pass down a long flight of stairs and by two orthree rooms, in any one of which Emil Correlli might be on the watchin anticipation of this very proceeding. 

There was a back stairway; but as this led directly up from the areahall, the door at the bottom was always carefully kept locked--the keyhanging on a concealed nail for fear of burglars; and Edith, knowingthis, did not once think of attempting to go out that way. 

While she sat by the window, trying to think of some way out of herdifficulties, her attention was attracted by the peculiar movements ofa woman on the opposite side of the street--it was the side streetleading through to Beacon. 

She was of medium height, richly clad in a long seal garment, butheavily veiled, and she was leading a little child, of two or threeyears, by the hand. 

But for her strange behavior, Edith would have simply thought her tobe some young mother, who was giving her little one an airing on thatpleasant winter afternoon. She appeared very anxious to shunobservation, dropping her head whenever any one passed her, andsometimes turning abruptly around to avoid the gaze of the curious. 

She never entirely passed the house, but walked back and forth againand again from the corner to a point opposite the area door near therear of the dwelling, while she eagerly scanned every window, as ifseeking for a glimpse of some one whom she knew. Moreover, from timeto time, her eyes appeared to rest curiously upon Edith, whom shecould plainly perceive at her post above. 

For nearly half an hour she kept this up; then, suddenly crossing thestreet, disappeared within the area entrance to the house, greatly tothe surprise of our fair heroine. 

"How very strange!" Edith remarked, in astonishment. "She is certainlytoo richly clad to be the friend of any of the servants, and if shedesires to see Mrs. Goddard, why did she not go to the front entranceand ring?"

While she was pondering the singular incident, she saw the gas-manemerge from the same door, and pass down the street toward anotherhouse; then her mind reverted again to her own precarious situation, and she forgot about the intruder and her child below. 

The house was very still--there was not even a servant moving about todisturb the almost uncanny silence that reigned throughout it. It wasThursday, and Edith knew that the housemaid and cook's assistant wereto have that afternoon out, which, doubtless, accounted in a measurefor the unusual quiet. 

But this very fact she knew would only serve to make any movement onher part all the more noticeable, and while she was wondering how sheshould manage her escape before the return of Mrs. Goddard, a slightnoise behind her suddenly warned her of the presence of another in theroom. 

She turned quickly, and a low cry of surprise broke from her as shesaw standing, just inside the door, the very woman whom, a few momentsbefore she had seen disappear within the area door of the house. 

She was now holding her child in her arms and regarding Edith throughher veil with a look of fire and hatred that made the girl's fleshcreep with a sense of horror. 

Putting the little one down on the floor, she braced herself againstthe door and remarked, with a bitter sneer, but in a rich, musicalvoice, and with a foreign accent:

"Without doubt I am in the presence of Madam Correlli. "

Edith flushed crimson at her words. 

"I--I do not understand you, " she faltered, filled with surprise anddismay at being thus addressed by the veiled stranger. 

"I wish to see Madam Correlli, " the woman remarked, in an impatientand bitter tone. "I am sure I am not mistaken addressing you thus. "

"Yes, you are mistaken--there is no such person, " Edith boldlyreplied, determined that she would never commit herself by respondingto that hated name. 

"Are you not the girl whose name was Edith Allen?" demanded hercompanion, sharply. 

"My name is Edith Allen--"

She checked herself suddenly, for she had unwittingly come nearuttering the rest of it. She went a step or two nearer the woman, trying to distinguish her features, which were so shadowed by the veilshe wore that she could not tell how she looked. 

"Ah! so you will admit your identity, but you will not confess to thename by which I have addressed you. Why?" demanded the unknownvisitor, with a sneer. 

"Because I do not choose, " said Edith, coldly. "Who are you, and whyhave you forced yourself upon me thus?"

"And you will also deny this?" cried the stranger, in tones ofrepressed passion, but ignoring the girl's questions, as she pulled apaper from her pocket and thrust under her eyes a notice of themarriage at Wyoming. 

Edith grew pale at the sight of it, when the other, quick to observeit, laughed softly but derisively. 

"Ah, no; you cannot deny that you were married to Emil Correlli, onlythe night before last, in the presence of many, many people, " shesaid, in a hoarse, passionate whisper. "Do you think you can deceiveme? Do you dare to lie to me?"

"I have no wish to deceive you. I would not knowingly utter afalsehood to any one, " Edith gravely returned. "I know, of course, towhat you refer; but"--throwing back her head with a defiant air--"Iwill never answer to the name by which you have called me!"

"Ha! say you so! And why?" eagerly exclaimed her companion, regardingher curiously. "Can you deny that you went to the altar with EmilCorrelli?" she continued, excitedly. "That a clergyman read themarriage service over you?--that you were afterward introduced to manypeople as his wife?--and that you are now living under the same roofwith him, surrounded by all this luxury"--sweeping her eyes around theroom--"for which he has paid?"

"No, I cannot deny it!" said Edith, with a weary sigh. "All that youhave read in that paper really happened; but--"

"Aha! Well, but what?" interposed the woman, with a malicious sneerthat instantly aroused all Edith's spirit. 

"Pardon me, " she said, drawing herself proudly erect and speaking withoffended dignity, "but I cannot understand what right you, an utterstranger to me, have to intrude upon me thus. Who are you, madam, andwhy have you forced yourself here to question me in such a dictatorialmanner?"

"Ha! ha! ha!" The mirthless laugh was scarcely audible, but it wasreplete with a bitterness that made Edith shiver with a namelesshorror. "Who am I, indeed? Let me assure you that I am one who wouldnever take the stand that you have just taken; who would never refuseto be known as the wife of Emil Correlli, or to be called by his nameif I could but have the right to such a position. Look at me!" shecommanded, tearing the veil from her face. "We have met before. "

Edith beheld her, and was amazed, for it needed but a glance to showher that she was the girl who had accosted Emil Correlli on the streetthat afternoon when he had overtaken and walked home with her afterthe singular accident and encounter with Mrs. Stewart. 

"Aha! and so you know me, " the girl went on--for she could not havebeen a day older than Edith herself, Although there were lines of careand suffering upon her brilliant face--seeking the look of recognitionin her eyes; "you remember how I confronted him that day when he waswalking with you. "

"Yes, I remember; but--"

"But that does not tell you who--or what I am, would perhaps be thebetter way of putting it, " said the stranger, with bitter irony. "Lookhere; perhaps this will tell you better than any other form ofintroduction, " she added, almost fiercely, as, with one hand, shesnatched the cap off her child's head and then turned his face towardEdith. 

The startled girl involuntarily uttered a cry of mingled surprise anddismay, for, in face and form and bearing, she beheld--a miniatureEmil Correlli!

For a moment she was speechless, thrilled with greater loathing forthe man than she had ever before experienced, as a suspicion of thetruth flashed through her brain. 

Then she lifted her astonished eyes to the woman, to find herregarding her with a look of mingled curiosity, hatred, and triumph. 

"The boy is--his child?" Edith murmured at last, in an inquiring tone. 

A slow smile crept over the mother's face as she stood for a momentlooking at Edith--a smile of malice which betrayed that she gloried inseeing that the girl at last understood her purpose in bringing thelittle one there. 

"Yes, you see--you understand, " she said, at last; "any one would knowthat Correlli is his father. "

"And you--" Edith breathed, in a scarcely audible voice, while shebegan to tremble with a secret hope. 

"I am the child's mother--yes, " the girl returned, with a look ofdespair in her dusky orbs. 

But she was not prepared for the light of eager joy that leaped intoEdith's eyes at this confession--the new life and hope that sweptover her face and animated her manner until she seemed almosttransformed, from the weary, spiritless appearing girl she had seemedon her entrance, into a new creature. 

"Then, of course, you are Emil Correlli's wife, " she cried, in a gladtone; "you have come to tell me this--to tell me that I am free fromthe hateful tie which I supposed bound me to him? Oh, I thank you! Ithank you!"

"You thank me?"

"Yes, a thousand times. "

"Ha! and you say the tie that binds you to him is hateful?" whisperedthe strange woman, while she studied Edith's face with mingled wonderand curiosity. 

"More hateful than I can express, " said Edith, with incisivebitterness. 

"And you do not--love him?"

"Love him? Oh, no!"

The tone was too replete with aversion to be doubted. 

"Ah, it is I who do not understand now!" exclaimed Edith's visitor, with a look of perplexity. 

"Let me tell you, " said the young girl, drawing nearer and speakingrapidly. "I was Mrs. Goddard's companion, and quite happy and contentwith my work until he--her villainous brother--came. Ah, perhaps Ishall wound you if I say more, " she interposed, and breaking offsuddenly, as she saw her companion wince. 

"No, no; go on, " commanded her guest, imperatively. 

"Well, Monsieur Correlli began to make love to me and to persecute mewith his attentions soon after he came here. He proposed marriage tome some weeks ago, and I refused to listen to him--"

"You refused him!"

"Why, yes, certainly; I did not love him; I would not marry any onewhom I could not love, " Edith replied, with a little scornful curl ofher lips at the astonished interruption, which had betrayed that herguest thought no girl could be indifferent to the charms of the manwhom she so adored. 

"He was offended, " Edith resumed, "and insisted that he would not takemy refusal as final. When I finally convinced him that I meant what Ihad said, he and his sister plotted together to accomplish theirobject, and make me his wife by strategy. Madam planned a winterfrolic at her country residence; she wrote the play of which you havean account in that paper; she chose her characters, and it wasrehearsed to perfection. At the last moment, on the evening of itspresentation before her friends, she removed the two principalcharacters--telling me that they had been called home by atelegram--and substituted her brother and me in their places. She didnot even tell me who was to take the gentleman's place--she simplysaid a friend; it was all done so hurriedly there was no time, apparently, for explanations. And then--oh! it is too horrible tothink of!" interposed Edith, bringing her hands together with adespairing gesture, "she had that ordained minister come on the stageand legally marry us. From beginning to end it was all a fraud!"

"Stop, girl! and swear that you are telling me the truth!" cried herstrange companion, as she stepped close to Edith's side, laid aviolent hand upon her arm, and searched her face with a look that musthave made her shrink and cower if she had been trying to deceive. 

"Oh, I would give the world if it were not true!" Edith exclaimed, with an earnestness that could not be doubted--"if the last scene inthat drama had never been enacted, or if I could have been warned intime of the treachery of which I was being made the victim!"

"Suppose you had been warned!" demanded her guest, still clutching herarm with painful force, "would you have dared refuse to do theirbidding?"

"Would I have dared refuse?" exclaimed Edith, drawing herselfhaughtily erect. "No power on earth could have made me marry thatman. "

"I don't know! I don't know! He is rich, handsome, talented, " mutteredthe other, regarding her suspiciously. "Will you swear that it wasfraud--that you did not know you were being married to him? Do nottry to lie to me, " she went on, warningly. "I came here this afternoonwith a heart full of bitter hatred toward you; in my soul I believe Iwas almost a murderess. But--if you also are the victim of a bad man'sperfidy, then we have a common cause. "

"I have told you only the truth, " responded Edith, gravely. "MonsieurCorrelli was utterly repulsive to me, and I never could have consentedto marry him, under any circumstances. I know he is consideredhandsome--I know he is rich and talented; but all that would be notemptation to me--I could never sell myself for fortune or position. Iam very sorry if you have been made unhappy because of me, " she wenton gently; "but I have not willfully wronged you in any way. And ifyou have come here to tell me that you are Monsieur Correlli's wife, you have saved me from a fate I abhorred--and I shall be--I am free!and I shall bless you as long as I live!"

CHAPTER XXII. 

"I WILL RISE ABOVE MY SIN AND SHAME!"

Edith's strange visitor stood contemplating her with a look of mingledperplexity and sadness. 

It was evident that she could not understand how any one could be gladto renounce a man like Emil Correlli, with the fortune and positionwhich he could give the woman of his choice. 

The two made a striking tableau as they stood there facing each other, with that beautiful child between them; for in style and coloring, they were exactly the opposite of each other. 

Edith, so fair and slight, with her delicate features and golden hair, her great innocent blue eyes, graceful bearing, and cultivated manner, which plainly betrayed that she had been reared in an atmosphere ofgentleness and refinement. 

The other was of a far different type, yet, perhaps, not less strikingand beautiful in her way. 

She was of medium height, with a full, voluptuous form, a complexionof pale olive, with brilliantly scarlet lips, and eyes like "blackdiamonds, " and hair that had almost a purple tinge in its ebon masses;her features, though far from being regular, were piquant, and whenshe was speaking lighted into fascinating animation with every passingemotion. 

"I shall be free!" Edith murmured again with a long-drawn sigh ofrelief, "for of course you will assert your claim upon him, and"--witha glance at the child--"he will not dare to deny it. "

"You are so anxious to be free? You would bless me for helping you tobe free?" repeated her companion, studying the girl's face earnestly, questioningly. 

"Ah, yes; I was almost in despair when you came in, " Edith replied, shivering, and with starting tears; "now I begin to hope that my lifehas not been utterly ruined. "

Her visitor flushed crimson, and her great black eyes flashed withsudden anger. 

"My curse be upon him for all the evil he has done!" she cried, passionately. "Oh! how gladly would I break the bond that binds you tohim, but--I have not the power; I have no claim upon him. "

Edith regarded her with astonishment. 

"No claim upon him?" she repeated, with another glance at the littleone who was gazing from one to another with wondering eyes. 

The mother's glance followed hers, and an expression of despair sweptover her face. 

"Oh, Holy Virgin, pity me!" she moaned, a blush of shame mantling hercheeks. 

Then lifting her heavy eyes once more to Edith, she continued, falteringly:

"The boy is his and--mine; but--I have no legal claim upon him--I amno wife. "

For a moment after this humiliating confession there was an unbrokensilence in that elegant room. 

Then a hot wave of sympathetic color flashed up to Edith's brow, whilea look of tender, almost divine, compassion gleamed in her lovelyeyes. 

For the time she forgot her own wretchedness in her sympathy for hererring and more unfortunate sister--for the woman and the mother whohad been outraged beyond compare. 

At length she raised her hand and laid it half-timidly, but withexceeding kindness, upon her shoulder. 

"I understand you now, " she said, gently, "and I am very sorry. "

The words were very simple and commonplace; but the tone, the look, and the gesture that accompanied them spoke more than volumes, andcompletely won the heart of the passionate and despairing creaturebefore her for all time. 

They also proved too much for her self-possession, and, with a moan ofanguish, throwing herself upon her knees beside her child, she claspedhim convulsively in her arms and burst into a flood of weeping. 

"Oh! my poor, innocent baby! to think that this curse must rest uponyou all your life--it breaks my heart!" she moaned, while shepassionately covered his head and face with kisses. "They tell methere is a God, " she went on, hoarsely, as she again struggled to herfeet, "but I do not believe it--no God of love would ever createmonsters like Emil Correlli, and allow them to deceive and ruininnocent girls, blackening their pure souls and turning them to fiendsincarnate! Yes, I mean it, " she panted, excitedly, as she caughtEdith's look of horror at her irreverent and reckless expressions. 

"Listen!" she continued, eagerly. "Only three years ago I was a pureand happy girl, living with my parents in my native land--fair, beautiful, sunny Italy--"

"Italy?" breathlessly interposed Edith, as she suddenly rememberedthat she also had been born in that far Southern clime. Then she grewsuddenly pale as she caught the eyes of the little one gazingcuriously into her face, and also remembered that "the curse" whichhis mother had but a moment before so deplored, rested upon her aswell. 

Involuntarily, she took his little hand, and lifting it to her lips, imprinted a soft caress upon it, at which the child smiled, showinghis pretty white teeth, and murmured some fond musical term inItalian. 

"You are an angel not to hate us both, " said his mother, a suddenwarmth in her tones, a gleam of gratitude in her dusky eyes. "But wereyou ever in Italy?" she added, curiously. 

"Yes, when I was a little child; but I do not remember anything aboutit, " said Edith, with a sigh. "Do not stand with the child in yourarms, " she added, thoughtfully. "Come, sit here, and then you can goon with what you were going to tell me. "

And, with a little sense of malicious triumph, Edith pulled forwardthe beautiful rocker of carved ivory, and saw the woman sink wearilyinto it with a feeling of keen satisfaction. It seemed to her like theirony of fate that it should be thus occupied for the first time. 

She would have been only too glad to heap all the beautiful clothes, jewels, and laces upon the woman also, but she felt that they did notbelong to her, and she had no right to do so. Taking her little one onher knee, the young woman laid his head upon her breast, and swayinggently back and forth, began her story. 

"My father was an olive grower, and owned a large vineyard besides, inthe suburbs of Rome. He was a man of ample means, and took no littlepride in the pretty home which he was enabled to provide for hisfamily. My mother was a beautiful woman, somewhat above him socially, although I never knew her to refer to the fact, and I was their onlychild. 

"Like many other fond parents who have but one upon whom to expendtheir love and money, they thought I must be carefully reared andeducated--nothing was considered too good for me, and I had everyadvantage which they could bestow. I was happy--I led an ideal lifeuntil I was seventeen years of age. When carnival time came around, we all went in to Rome to join in the festivities, and there I met myfate, in the form of Emil Correlli. "

"Ah! but I thought that he was a Frenchman!" interposed Edith, insurprise. 

"His father was a Frenchman, but his mother was born and reared inItaly, where, in Rome, he studied under the great sculptor, Powers, "her guest explained. Then she resumed: "We met just as we were bothentering the church of St. Peter's. He accidently jostled me; then, ashe turned to apologize, our eyes met, and from that moment my fate wassealed. I cannot tell you all that followed, dear lady, it would taketoo long; but, during the next three months it seemed to me as if Iwere living in Paradise. Before half that time had passed, Emil hadconfessed his love for me, and made an excuse to see me almost everyday. But my parents did not approve; they objected to his attentions;his mother, they learned by some means, belonged to a noble family, and 'lords and counts should not mate with peasants, ' they said. "

"Then I made the fatal mistake of disobeying them and meeting my loverin secret. Ah, lady, " she here interposed with a bitter sigh, "therest is but the old story of man's deception and a maiden's blindconfidence in him; and when, all too late, I discovered my error, there seemed but one thing for me to do, and that was to flee with himto America, whither he was coming to pursue his profession in a greatcity. "

"And--did he not offer to--to marry you before you came?" queriedEdith, aghast. 

"No; he pretended that he dared not--he was so well-known in Rome thatthe secret would be sure to be discovered, he said, and then my fatherwould separate us forever; but he promised that when we arrived in NewYork, he would make everything all right; therefore, I, still blindlytrusting him, let him lead me whither he would. 

"I was very ill during the passage, and for weeks following ourarrival, and so the time slipped rapidly by without the consummationof my hopes, and though he gave me a pleasant home and everythingthat I wished for in the house where we lived, even allowing it toappear that I was his wife, we had not been here long before I sawthat he was beginning to tire of me. I did everything I could to keephis love, I studied tirelessly to master the language of the country, and kept myself posted upon art and subjects which interested himmost, in order to make myself companionable to him. Time after time Ientreated him to fight the wrong he was doing me and another, whowould soon come either into the shelter of his fatherhood or toinherit the stigma of a dishonored mother; but he always had someexcuse with which to put me off. At last this little one came"--shesaid, folding the child more closely in her arms--"and I had somethingpure and sweet to love, even though I was heart-broken over knowingthat a blight must always rest upon his life, and something to occupythe weary hours which, at times, hung so heavily upon my hands. Afterthat Emil seemed to become more and more indifferent to me--therewould be weeks at a time that I would not see him at all; I usedsometimes to think that the boy was a reproach to him, and he couldnot bear the stings of his own conscience in his presence. "

"Ah, " interposed Edith, with a scornful curl of her red lips, "suchmen have no conscience; they live only to gratify their selfishimpulses. "

"Perhaps; while those they wrong live on and on, with a never-dyingworm gnawing at their vitals, " returned her companion, repressing asob. 

"At last, " she resumed, "I began to grow jealous of him, and to spyupon his movements. I discovered that he went a great deal to one ofthe up-town hotels, and I sometimes saw him go out with a handsomewoman, whom I afterward learned was his sister--the Mrs. Goddard, wholives here, and who visits New York several times every year. I didnot mind so much when I discovered the relationship between them, although I suffered many a bitter pang to see how fond they were ofeach other, while I was starving for some expression of his love. 

"This went on for nearly two years; then about two months ago, Emildisappeared from New York, without saying anything to me of hisintentions, although he left plenty of money deposited to my account. He was always generous in that way, and insisted that Ino must haveeverything he wished or needed--I am sure he is fond of the child, inspite of everything. By perseverance and ceaseless inquiry, I finallylearned that he had come to Boston, and I immediately followed him. Iam suspicious and jealous by nature, like all my people, and that day, when I saw him walking with you, and looking at you just as he used tolook at me in those old delicious days in Italy, all the passion of mynature was aroused to arms. Braving everything, I rushed over to himand denounced him for his treachery to me, also accusing him of makinglove to you. "

"And did it seem to you that I was receiving his attentions withpleasure?" questioned Edith, with a repugnant shrug of her shoulders. "I assure you he had forced his company upon me, and I only endured itto save making a scene in the street. "

"I did not stop to reason about your appearance, " said the woman; "atleast not further than to realize that you were very lovely, and justthe style of beauty to attract Emil; but he swore to me that you wereonly the companion of his sister, and he had only met you on thestreet by accident--that you were nothing to him. He asked me to tellhim where he could find me, and promised that he would come to melater. He kept his word, and has visited me every few days ever since, treating me more kindly than for a long time, but insisting that Imust keep entirely out of the way of his sister. And so it came uponme like a deadly blow when I read that account of his marriage inyesterday's paper. I was wrought up to a perfect frenzy, especiallywhen I came to the statement that Monsieur and Madam Correlli wouldreturn immediately to Boston, but leave soon after for a trip Southand West, and ultimately sail for Europe. That was more than outragednature could bear, and I vowed that I would wreak a swift and surerevenge upon you both, and so, for two days, I have haunted thishouse, seeking for an opportunity to gain an entrance unobserved. Isaw you sitting at the window--I recognized you instantly. I believed, of course, that you were a willing bride, and imagined that if I couldget in I should find you both in this room. While I watched my chance, one of the servants came to the area door to let in the gas-man, andcarelessly left it ajar, while she went back with him into one of therooms. In a moment I was in the lower hall, looking for a backstairway; if any one had found me I was going to beg a drink of waterfor my child. There was a door there, but it was locked; butdesperation makes one keen, and I was not long in finding a keyhanging up on a nail beneath a window-sill. The next instant the doorwas unlocked, and I on my way upstairs--"

"And the key! oh! what did you do with the key?" breathlesslyinterposed Edith, grasping at this unexpected chance to escape. 

"I have it here, lady, " said her companion, as she produced it. "Ithought it might be convenient for me to go out the same way, so tookpossession of it. "

"Ah, then the door to the back stairway is still unlocked?" breathedEdith, with trembling lips. 

"Yes; I did not stop to lock it after me; I hurried straight up here, but--expecting to have a very different interview from what I havehad, " responded the woman, with a heavy sigh. "Now, lady, you have mystory, " she continued, after a moment of silence, "you can see that Ihave been deeply wronged, and though from a moral standpoint, I haveevery claim upon Emil Correlli, yet legally, I have none whatever;and, unless you can prove some flaw in that ceremony of night beforelast--prove that he fraudulently tricked you into a marriage with him, you are irrevocably bound to him. "

Edith shivered with pain and abhorrence at these last words, but shedid not respond to them in any way. 

"I came here with hatred in my heart toward you, " the other went on, "but I shall go away blessing you for your kindness to me; for, instead of shrinking from me, as one defiled and too depraved to betolerated, you have held out the hand of sympathy to me and listenedpatiently and pityingly to the story of my wrongs. "

As she concluded, she dropped her face upon the head of her child witha weary, disheartened air that touched Edith deeply. 

"Will you tell me your name?" she questioned, gently, after a momentor two of silence. "Pardon me, " she added, flushing, as her companionlooked up sharply, "I am not curious, but I do not know how to addressyou. "

"Giulia Fiorini. Holy Mother forgive me the shame I have brought uponit!" she returned, with a sob. "I have called him"--laying hertrembling hand upon the soft, silky curls of her child--"Ino Emil. "

"Thank you, " said Edith, "and for your confidence in me as well. Youhave been greatly wronged; and if there is any justice or humanity inlaw, this tie, which so fetters me, shall be annulled; then, perchance, Monsieur Correlli may be persuaded to do what is righttoward you. 

"No, lady, I have no hope of that, " said Giulia, dejectedly, "for whena man begins to tire of the woman whom he has injured he also beginsto despise her, and to consider himself ill-used because she evendares to exist. "

"Perhaps you would wish to repudiate him, " suggested Edith, who feltthat such would be her attitude toward any man who had so wronged her. 

"Oh, no; much as I have suffered, I still love Emil, and would gladlyserve him for the remainder of my life, if he would but honor me withhis name; but I know him too well ever to hope for that--I know thathe is utterly selfish and would mercilessly set his heel upon me if Ishould attempt to stand in the way of his purposes. There is nothingleft for me but to go back to my own country, confess my sin to myparents, and hide myself from the world until I die. "

"Ah! but you forget that you have your child to rear and educate, hismind and life to mold, and--try to make him a better man than hisfather, " said Edith, with a tender earnestness, which instantly meltedthe injured girl to tears. 

"Oh, that you should have thought of that, when I, his mother, forgetmy duty to him, and think only of my own unhappiness!" sobbed theconscience-stricken girl, as she hugged the wondering child closer toher breast. "Yesterday I told myself that I would send Ino to him, andthen end my misery forever. "

"Don't!" exclaimed Edith, sharply, her face almost convulsed withpain. "Your life belongs to God, and--this baby. Live above yourtrouble, Giulia; never let your darling have the pain and shame oflearning that his mother was a suicide. If you have made one mistake, do not imagine that you can expiate it by committing another ahundred-fold worse. Ah! think what comfort there would be in rearingyour boy to a noble manhood, and then hear him say, 'What I am mymother has made me!'"

She had spoken earnestly, appealingly, and when she ceased, theunhappy woman seized her hand and covered it with kisses. 

"Oh, you have saved me!" she sobbed; "you have poured oil into mywounds. I will do as you say--I will rise above my sin and shame; andif Ino lives to be an honor to himself and the world, I shall tell himof the angel who saved us both. I am very sorry for you, " she added, looking, regretfully, up at Edith; "I could almost lay down my lifefor you now; but--Correlli is rich--very rich, and you may, perhaps, be able to get some comfort out of life by--"

Edith started to her feet, her face crimson. 

"What?" she cried, scornfully, "do you suppose that I could ever takepleasure in spending even one dollar of his money? Look there!"pointing to the elegant apparel upon the bed. "I found all thoseawaiting me when I came here to-day. In the dressing-case yonder thereare laces, jewels, and fine raiment of every description, but I wouldgo in rags before I would make use of a single article. I loathe thesight of them, " she added, shuddering. "I should feel degraded, indeed, could I experience one moment of pleasure arrayed in them. "

Suddenly she started, and looked at her watch, a wild hope animatingher. 

It was exactly quarter past two. 

A train left for New York, via the Boston & Albany Railroad, at threeo'clock. 

If she could reach the Columbus avenue station, which was less thanfifteen minutes' walk from Commonwealth avenue, without being missed, she would be in New York by nine o'clock, and safe, for a time atleast, from the man she both hated and feared. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

A SURPRISE AT THE GRAND CENTRAL STATION. 

"Will you help me?" Edith eagerly inquired, turning to her companion, who had regarded her wonderingly while she repudiated the costly giftswhich Emil Correlli had showered upon her. 

"How can I help you, lady?" Giulia inquired, with a look of surprise. 

"Call me Edith--I am only a poor, friendless girl, like yourself, " shegently returned. "But I want to go away from this house immediately--Imust get out of it unobserved; then I can catch a train that leavesBoston at three o'clock, for New York. "

"Ah! you wish to run away from Emil!" exclaimed Giulia, her facelighting with eagerness. 

"Yes--I would never own myself his wife for a single hour. I wasplanning, when you came in, to get away to-night when the house wasquiet; but doubtless they would lock my door if I continued to beobstinate, and it would be a great deal better for me, every way, if Icould go now, " Edith explained. 

"Yes, I will help you--I will do anything you wish, " said Giulia, heartily. 

"Then come!" exclaimed Edith, excitedly, "I want you to go down tohim; he is in one of the rooms below--in the library, I think--a roomunder the one opposite this. He will be so astonished by yourunexpected visit that he will be thrown off his guard, and you mustmanage to occupy his attention until you are sure I am well out of thehouse--which will be in less than ten minutes after you are in hispresence--and then I shall have nothing more to fear from him. "

"I will do it, " said the Italian girl, rising, a look of resolve onher handsome but care-lined face. 

"Thank you! thank you!" returned Edith, earnestly. "I am goingstraight to New York, to friends; but of course, you will not betraymy plans. "

"No, indeed; but do you think your friends can help you break withEmil--do you believe that ceremony can be canceled?" breathlesslyinquired Giulia. 

"I hope so, " Edith gravely answered; "at all events, if I can but onceput myself under the protection of my friends, I shall no longer fearhim. I shall then try to have the marriage annulled. Perhaps, when herealizes how determined I am, he may even be willing to submit to it. "

"Oh, do you think so?--do you think so?" cried Giulia, tremulously, and with hopeful eagerness. 

"I will hope so, " replied Edith, gravely, "and I will also hope that Imay be able to do something to make you and this dear child happy oncemore. What a sweet little fellow he is!" she concluded, as she leanedforward and kissed him softly on the cheek, an act which brought thequick tears to his mother's eyes. 

Again she seized the girl's delicate hand and carried it to her lips. 

"Ah, to think! An hour ago I hated you!--now I worship you!" shecried, in an impassioned tone, a sob bursting from her trembling lips. 

"You must go, " said Edith, advancing to the door, and softly openingit. "I have no time to lose if I am to catch my train. Remember, theroom under the one opposite this--you will easily find it. Nowgood-by, and Heaven bless you both. "

With a look of deepest gratitude and veneration, Giulia Fiorini, herchild clasped in her arms, passed out of the room and moved swiftlytoward the grand staircase leading to the lower part of the house;while Edith, closing and locking the door after her, stood listeninguntil she should reach the library, where she was sure Emil Correllisat reading. 

She heard the sweep of the girl's robes upon the stairs; then, amoment later, a stifled exclamation of mingled surprise and anger fellupon her ears, after which the library door was hastily shut, andEdith began to breathe more freely. 

She hastened to put on her jacket, preparatory to leaving the house. But an instant afterward her heart leaped into her throat, as shecaught the sound of the hurried opening and shutting of the librarydoor again. 

Then there came swift steps over the stairs. 

Edith knew that Emil Correlli was coming to ascertain if she were safewithin her room; that he feared if Giulia had succeeded in gaining anentrance there, without being discovered, she might possibly haveescaped in the same way. 

She moved noiselessly across the room toward the dressing-case andopened a drawer, just as there came a knock on her door. 

"Is that you, Mrs. Goddard?" Edith questioned, in her usual tone ofvoice, though her heart was beating with great, frightened throbs. 

"No; it is I, " responded Emil Correlli. "I wish to speak with you amoment, Edith. "

"You must excuse me just now, Mr. Correlli, " the girl replied, as sherattled the stopper to one of the perfumery bottles on thedressing-case; "I am dressing, and cannot see any one just atpresent. "

"Oh!" returned the voice from without, in a modified tone, as if theman were intensely relieved by her reply. "I beg your pardon; but whencan I see you--how long will it take you to finish dressing?"

Edith glanced at the clock, and a little smile of triumph curled herlips, for she saw that the hands pointed to half-past two. 

"Not more than fifteen or twenty minutes, perhaps, " she returned. 

"Ah, you are relenting!" said the man, eagerly. "You will come down byand by--you will dine with us this evening, Edith?" he concluded, inan appealing tone. 

There was again a moment of hesitation on Edith's part, as if she weredebating the question with herself; but if he could have seen hereyes, he would have been appalled by the look of fire and loathingthat blazed in them. 

"Mr. Correlli, " she said at last, in a tone which he interpreted asone of timid concession, "I--I wish to do what is right and--I thinkperhaps I will come down as soon as I finish dressing. "

His face lighted and flushed with triumph. 

He believed that she was yielding--won over by the munificent giftswith which he had crowded her room. 

"Ah! thank you! thank you!" he responded, with delight. "But take yourown time, dear, and make yourself just as beautiful as possible, and Iwill come up for you in the course of half an hour. "

He flattered himself that he would be well rid of Giulia by that time;and having assured himself that Edith was safe in her room, and, as hebelieved, gradually submitting to his terms, he retraced his stepsdownstairs, the cruel lines about his mouth hardening as he went, forhe had resolved to cast off forever the girl who had become nothingbut a burden and an annoyance to him. 

Edith did not move until she heard him enter the library again andclose the door after him. 

Then, hurriedly buttoning her jacket and pinning on her hat, she tookfrom her trunk the package which she had made up an hour before, stolesoftly from her room and down the back stairs to the area hall. 

The outer door was closed and bolted--the gas-man having long sincefinished his errand and departed--and she could hear the cook and oneof the maids conversing in the kitchen just across the hall. 

Evidently no one had attempted to go upstairs since Giulia's entrance, consequently the key had not yet been missed nor the door discoveredto be unlocked. 

Cautiously slipping the bolt to the street door, Edith quickly passedout, closing it noiselessly after her. 

Another moment she was in the street, speeding with swift, light stepsacross the park. 

Then, bending her course through Dartmouth street, she came to anarrow, crooked way called Buckingham street, which led her directlyout upon Columbus avenue, when, turning to the left, she soon came tothe station known by the same name. 

Here she had ten minutes to wait, after purchasing her ticket, and theuneasiness with which she watched the slowly moving hands upon theclock in the gloomy waiting-room may be imagined. 

Her waiting was over at last, and, exactly on time, the train camethundering to the station. 

Edith quickly boarded it, then sank weak and trembling upon thenearest empty seat, her heart beating so rapidly that she panted withevery breath. 

Then the train began to move, and, with a prayer of thankfulness overher escape, the excited girl leaned back against the cushion and gaveherself up to rest, knowing that she could not now be overtaken beforearriving in New York. 

This feeling of security did not last long, however, and she wasfilled with dismay as she thought that Emil Correlli would doubtlessdiscover her flight in the course of half an hour, if he had notalready done so, when he would probably surmise that she would goimmediately to New York and so telegraph to have her arrested upon herarrival there. 

This was a difficulty which she had not foreseen. 

What should she do?--how could she circumvent him? how protect herselfand defy his authority over her?

A bright idea flashed into her mind. 

She would telegraph to Royal Bryant at the first stop made by thetrain, ask him to meet her upon her arrival, and thus secure hisprotection against any plot that Emil Correlli might lay for her. 

The first stopping-place she knew was Framingham, a small town abouttwenty miles from Boston. 

The first time the conductor came through the car she asked him for aWestern Union slip, when she wrote the following message and addressedit to Royal Bryant's office on Broadway:

 "Shall arrive at Grand Central Station, via. B. & A. R. R. , at nine o'clock. Do not fail to meet me. Important. 

 "EDITH ALLANDALE. "

When the conductor came back again, she gave this to him, with thenecessary money, and asked if he would kindly forward it fromFramingham for her. 

He cheerfully promised to do so. Then, feeling greatly relieved, Edithsettled herself contentedly for a nap, for she was very weary andheavy-eyed from the long strain upon her nerves and lack of sleep. 

She did not wake for more than three hours, when she found thatdaylight had faded, and that the lamps had been lighted in the car. 

At New Haven she obtained a light lunch from a boy who was crying hisviands through the train, and when her hunger was satisfied shestraightened her hat and drew on her gloves, knowing that another twohours would bring her to her destination. 

Then she began to speculate upon possible and impossible things, andto grow very anxious regarding her safety upon her arrival in NewYork. 

Perhaps Royal Bryant had not received her message. 

He might have left his office before it arrived; maybe the officialsat Framingham had even neglected to send it; or Mr. Bryant might havebeen out of town. 

What could she do if, upon alighting from the train, some burlypoliceman should step up to her and claim her as his prisoner?

She had thus worked herself up to a very nervous and excited state bythe time the lights of the great metropolis could be seen in thedistance; her face grew flushed and feverish, her eyes were like twopoints of light, her temples throbbed, her pulses leaped, and herheart beat with great, frightened throbs. 

The train had to make a short stop where one road crossed another justbefore entering the city, and the poor girl actually grew faint anddizzy with the fear that an officer might perhaps board the train atthat point. 

Almost as the thought flashed through her brain, the car door openedand a man entered, when a thrill of pain went quivering through everynerve, prickling to her very finger-tips. 

A second glance showed her that it was a familiar form, and she almostcried out with joy as she recognized Royal Bryant and realized thatshe was--safe!

He saw her immediately and went directly to her, his gleaming eyestelling a story from his heart which instantly sent the rich color toher brow. 

"Miss Allandale!" he exclaimed, in a low, eager tone, as he claspedher outstretched hand. "I am more than glad to see you once again. "

"Then you received my telegram, " she said, with a sigh of relief. 

"Yes, else I should not be here, " he smilingly returned; "but I camevery near missing it. I was just on the point of leaving the officewhen the messenger-boy brought it in. I suppose our advertisement isto be thanked for your appearance in New York thus opportunely. "

"Not wholly, " Edith returned, with some embarrassment. "If it had beenthat alone which called me here, I need not have telegraphed you. Isaw it only yesterday; but my chief reason for coming hither is that Iam a fugitive. "

"A fugitive!" repeated her companion, in surprise. "Ah, yes, Iwondered a little over that word 'important' in your message. Itstrikes me, " he added, smiling significantly down upon her, "that youleft New York in very much the same manner. " "Yes, " she faltered, flushing rosily. 

"From whom and what were you fleeing, Edith? Surely not from one whowould have been only too glad to shield you from every ill?" said theyoung man, in a tenderly reproachful tone, the import of which therewas no mistaking. 

She shot one swift glance into his face and saw that his eyes wereluminous with the great love that was throbbing in his manly heart, and with an inward start of exceeding joy she dropped her lids again, but not before he had read in the look and the tell-tale flush thatflooded cheek, brow, and neck, that his affection was returned. 

"I will forgive you, dear, if you will be kind to me in the future, "he whispered, taking courage from her sweet shyness and bashfulness. "And now tell me why you are a fugitive from Boston, for your telegramwas dated from that city. "

Thus recalled to herself, and a realization of her cruel situation, Edith shivered, and a deadly paleness banished the rosy blushes fromher cheeks. 

"I will, " she murmured, "I will tell you all about the dreadful thingsthat have happened to me; but not here, " she added, with an anxiousglance around. "Will you take me to some place where I shall be safe?"she continued, appealingly. "I have no place to go unless it is tosome hotel, and I shrink from a public house. "

"My child, why are you trembling so?" the young man inquired, as hesaw she was shaking from head to foot. "I am very glad, " he added, "that I was inspired to board the train at the crossing, and thus cangive you my protection in the confusion of your arrival. "

"I am glad, too; it was very thoughtful of you, " said Edith, appreciatively; "but--but I am also going to need your help again in alegal way. "

He started slightly at this; but replied, cheerfully:

"You shall have it; I am ready to throw myself heart and hand betweenyou and any trouble of whatever nature. Now about a safe place for youto stay while you are in the city. I have a married cousin who liveson West Fortieth street; we are the best of friends and she willgladly entertain you at my request, until you can make otherarrangements. "

"But to intrude upon an entire stranger--" began Edith, lookinggreatly disturbed. 

"Nellie will not seem like a stranger to you, two minutes after youhave been introduced to her, " the young man smilingly returned. "Sheis the dearest, sweetest little cousin a man ever had, and she has anequal admiration for your humble servant. She will thank me forbringing you to her, and I am sure that you will be happy with her. But why do you start so?--why are you so nervous?" he concluded, asshe sprang from her seat, when the train stopped, and looked wildlyabout her. 

"I am afraid, " she gasped. 

"Afraid of what?" he urged, with gentle persistence. 

"Of a man who has been persecuting me, " she panted, the look ofanxious fear still in her eyes. "I ran away from him to-day, and Ihave been afraid, all the way to New York, that he would telegraphahead of the train, and have me stopped--that was why I sent themessage to you. "

"I am very glad you did, " said the young man, gravely. "But, Edith, pray do not look so terrified; you are sure to attract attention withthat expression on your face. Calm yourself and trust me, " heconcluded, as he took her hand and laid it upon his arm. 

"I do--I will, " she said; but her fingers closed over his with aspasmodic clasp which told him how thoroughly wrought up she was. 

"Have you a trunk?" he inquired, as they moved toward the door, thetrain having now entered the Grand Central Station. 

"No; I left everything but a few necessary articles--I can send for itlater by express, " she responded. 

The young man assisted her from the train, then replacing her handupon his arm, was about to signal for a carriage when they weresuddenly confronted by a policeman and brought to a halt in the mostsummary manner. 

"Sorry to trouble you, sir, " said the man, speaking in a business-liketone to Mr. Bryant, "but I have orders to take this lady intocustody. "

CHAPTER XXIV. 

A SAD STORY DISCLOSED TO AN EAGER LISTENER. 

Royal Bryant was not very much surprised by this abrupt informationand interference with their movements. 

What Edith had said to him, just before getting out of the train, hadsuggested the possibility of such an incident, consequently he was notthrown off his guard, as he might otherwise have been. 

At the same time he flushed up hotly, and, confronting the officerwith flashing eyes, remarked, with freezing hauteur:

"I do not understand you, sir. I think you have made a mistake; thislady is under my protection. "

"But I have orders to intercept a person answering to this lady'sdescription, " returned the policeman, but speaking with not quite hisprevious assurance. 

"By whose orders are you acting, if I may inquire?" demanded the youngman. 

"A Boston party. "

"And the lady's name, if you please?"

"No name is given, sir; but she is described as a girl of abouttwenty, pure blonde, very pretty, slight and graceful in figure, wearing a dark-brown dress and jacket and a brown hat with blackfeathers. She will be alone and has no baggage, " said the policeman, reading from the telegram which he had received some two hoursprevious. 

Mr. Bryant smiled loftily. 

"Your description hits the case in some respects, I admit, " heobserved, with an appreciative glance at Edith, who stood beside himoutwardly calm and collected, though the hand that rested upon his armwas tense with repressed emotion, "but in others it is wide of itsmark. You have her personal appearance, in a general way, and thedress happens to correspond in everything but the hat. You willobserve that the lady wears a black hat with a scarlet wing instead ofa brown one with black feathers. She did not arrive alone, either, asyou perceive, we got off the train together. "

The officer looked perplexed. 

"What may your name be, sir, if you please?" he inquired, with morecivility than he had yet shown. 

"Royal Bryant, of the firm of Bryant & Co. , Attorneys. Here is mycard, and you can find me at my office between the hours of nine andfour any day you may wish, " the young man frankly returned, as heslipped the bit of pasteboard into the man's hand. 

"And will you swear that you are not aiding and abetting this younglady in trying to escape the legal authority of friends in Boston?"questioned the policeman, as he sharply scanned the faces before him. 

"Ahem! I was not aware that I was being examined under oath, "responded the young lawyer, with quiet irony. "However, I am willingto give you my word of honor, as a gentleman, that this lady isaccountable to no one in Boston for her movements. "

"Well, I reckon I have made a mistake; but where in thunder, then, isthe girl I'm after?" muttered the officer, with an anxious air. 

"Does your telegram authorize you to arrest a runaway from Boston?"Mr. Bryant inquired, with every appearance of innocence. 

"Yes, a girl from the smart set, who don't want any scandal over thematter, " replied the man, referring again to the yellow slip in hishand. 

"But she may not have come by the Boston and Albany line, " objectedMr. Bryant. "There are several trains that leave the city fromdifferent stations about the same time; you may find your bird on alater train, Mr. Officer, " he concluded, in a reassuring tone. 

"That is so, " was the thoughtful response. 

"Then I suppose you will not care to detain us any longer, " Mr. Bryantcourteously remarked. "Come, Edith, " he added, turning with a smile tohis companion, and then he started to move on. 

"Hold on! I'm blamed if I don't think I'm right after all, " said thepoliceman, in a tone of conviction, as he again placed himself intheir path. 

Royal Bryant flashed a look of fire at him. 

"Have you a warrant for the lady's arrest?" he sternly demanded. 

"No; I am simply ordered to detain her until her friends can come onand take charge of her, " the man reluctantly admitted, while he heaveda sigh for the fat plum that had been promised him in the event of his"bagging his game. "

"Then, if you are not legally authorized in this matter, I wouldadvise you, as a friend, to make no mistake, " gravely returned theyoung lawyer. "You might heap up wrath for yourself; while, if yourpatrons are anxious to avoid a scandal, you are taking the surest wayto create one by interfering with the movements of myself and mycompanion. This young lady is my friend, and, as I have already toldyou, under my protection; as her attorney, also, I shall stand nononsense, I assure you. "

"Beg pardon, sir; but I'm only trying to obey orders, " apologized theofficial. "But would you have the goodness to tell me this younglady's name. "

At any other time and under any other circumstances Mr. Bryant wouldhave resented this inquiry as an impertinence; but it occurred to himthat an appearance of frankness and compliance might save them furtherinconvenience. 

"Certainly, " he responded, with the utmost cheerfulness, "this lady'sname is Miss Edith Allandale and she is the daughter of the lateAlbert Allandale, of Allandale & Capen, bankers. "

"It is all right, sir, " said the officer, at last convinced that hehad made a mistake, for Allandale & Capen had been a well-known firmto him. "You can go on, " he added, touching his hat respectfully, "and I beg pardon for troubling you. "

Without more ado he turned away, while Edith and her escort passed on, but the frightened girl was now trembling in every limb. 

"Calm yourself, dear, " whispered her companion, involuntarily usingthe affectionate term, as he hastened to lead her into the fresh air. "You are safe, and I will soon have you in a place where your enemieswill never think of looking for you. "

He beckoned to the driver of a carriage as he spoke, and in anotherminute was assisting Edith into it; then, taking a seat beside her, hegave the man his order, and as the vehicle moved away in the darkness, the poor girl began to breathe freely for the first time sincealighting from the train. 

Mr. Bryant gave her a little time to recover herself, and then askedher to tell him all her trouble. 

This she was only too glad to do; and, beginning with the death of hermother, she poured out the whole story of the last three months tohim, dwelling mostly, however, upon the persecutions of Emil Correlliand the climax to which they had recently attained. 

He listened attentively throughout, but interrupting her, now andthen, to ask a pertinent question as it occurred to him. 

"I was in despair, " Edith finally remarked in conclusion, "untilyesterday, when, by the merest chance, my eye fell upon thatadvertisement of yours and it flashed upon me that the best course forme to pursue would be to come directly to New York and seek your aid;I felt sure you would be as willing to help me as upon a previousoccasion. "

"Certainly I would--you judged me rightly, " the young man responded, "but"--bending nearer to her and speaking in a slightly reproachfultone--"tell me, please, what was your object in leaving New York sounceremoniously?"

He felt the slight shock which went quivering through her at thequestion, and smiled to himself at her hesitation before she replied:

"I--I thought it was best, " she faltered at last. 

"Why for the 'best'?--for you or for me? Tell me, please, " he pleaded, gently. 

"For--both, " she replied in a scarcely audible tone that thrilled himand made his face gleam with sudden tenderness. 

"I--you will pardon me if I speak plainly--I thought it very strange, "he remarked gravely. "It almost seemed to me as if you were fleeingfrom me, for I fully expected that you would return to the office onThursday morning, as I had appointed. Had I done anything to offendyou or drive you away--Edith?"

"No--oh, no, " she quickly returned. 

"I am very glad to know that, " said her companion, a slighttremulousness in his tones, "for I have feared that I might havebetrayed my feelings in a way to wound or annoy you; for, Edith--I canno longer keep the secret--I had learned to love you with all my heartduring that week that you spent in my office, and I resolved, onparting with you at the carriage, the morning of your release, toconfess the fact to you as soon as you returned to the office, ask youto be my wife and thus let me stand between you and the world for alltime. Nay, "--as Edith here made a little gesture as if to checkhim--"I must make a full confession now, while I have the opportunity. I was almost in despair when I received your brief note telling methat you had left the city and without giving me the slightest clew toyour destination. All my plans, all my fond anticipations, were dashedto the earth, dear. I loved you so I felt that I could not bear theseparation. I love you still, my darling--my heart leaped for joy thisafternoon when I received your telegram. And now, while I have youhere all to myself, I have dared to tell you of it, and beg you totell me if there is any hope for me? Can you love me in return!--willyou be my wife--?"

"Oh, hush! you forget the wretched tie that binds me to that villainin Boston, " cried Edith, and there was such keen pain in her voicethat tears involuntarily started to her companion's eyes, while atthe same time both words and tone thrilled him with sweetest hope. 

"No tie binds you to him, dear, " he whispered, tenderly. "Do you thinkI would have opened my heart to you thus if I had really believed youto be the wife of another?"

"Oh, do you mean that the marriage was not legal? Oh, if I couldbelieve that!" Edith exclaimed, with a note of such eager hope in hertones that it almost amounted to the confession her lover hadsolicited from her. 

But he yearned to hear it in so many words from her lips. 

"Tell me, Edith, if I can prove it to you, will there be hope for me?"he whispered. 

Ought she to answer him as her heart dictated? Dare she confess herlove with that stigma of her mother's early mistake resting upon her?she asked herself, in anguish of spirit. 

She sat silent and miserable, undecided what to do. 

If she acknowledged her love for him, without telling him, and heshould afterward discover the story of her birth, might he not feelthat she had taken an unfair advantage of him. 

And yet, how could she ever bring herself to disclose the shamefulsecret of that sad, sad tragedy which had occurred twenty yearsprevious in Rome?

"I--dare not tell you, " she murmured at last. 

The young man started, then bent eagerly toward her. 

"You 'dare' not tell me!" he cried, joyfully. "Darling, I am answeredalready! But why do you hesitate to open your heart to me?"

A sudden resolve took possession of her; she would tell him the wholetruth, let come what might. 

"I will not, " she said. "I have a sad story to tell you; but first, explain to me what you meant when you said that no tie binds me tothat man?"

"I meant that that marriage was simply a farce, in spite of thesacrilegious attempt of your enemies to legalize it, " said the younglawyer, gravely. 

"Can that be possible?" sighed Edith, her voice tremulous with joy. 

"I will prove it to you. You have told me that this man Correlli livedwith that Italian woman here in New York for two years or more. "

"Yes. "

"Do you know whether he allowed her to be known by his name?"

"No; but she told me that he allowed her to appear as his wife in thehouse where they lived. "

"Well, then, if that can be proven--and I have not much doubt aboutthe matter--the girl, by the laws of New York, which decree that if acouple live together in this State as husband and wife, they aresuch--this girl, I say, is the legal wife of Emil Correlli, consequently he can lay no claim to you without making himself liableto prosecution for the crime of bigamy. "

"Are you sure?" breathed Edith, and almost faint from joy, in view ofthis blessed release from a fate which to her would have been worsethan death. 

"So sure, dear, that I have nothing to fear for your future, regardingyour connection with this man, and everything to hope for regardingyour happiness and mine, if you will but tell me that you love me, "her lover returned, as he boldly captured the hand that lay alluringlynear him. 

She did not withdraw it from his clasp. 

It was so sweet to feel herself beloved and safe, under the protectionof this true-hearted man, that a feeling of restfulness and contentswept over her, and for the moment every other was absorbed by this. 

Still, Royal Bryant realized that she had some reason for hesitatingto acknowledge her affection for him, and after a moment of silence hesaid, gently:

"Forgive my impatience, dear, and tell me the 'sad story' to which youreferred a little while ago. "

A heavy sigh escaped Edith. 

"You will be surprised to learn, " she began, "that Mr. And Mrs. Allandale were not my own parents--that I was their adopted daughter. "

"Indeed! I am surprised!" exclaimed Mr. Bryant. 

"I did not discover the fact, however, " the young girl pursued, "untilthe night after my mother's burial. "

And then she proceeded to relate all that had occurred in connectionwith the box of letters which Mrs. Allandale had desired, when dying, to be burned. 

She told of her subsequent examination of them, especially of thosesigned "Belle, " and the story which they had revealed. How the younggirl had left her home and parents to flee to Italy with the man whomshe loved; how she had discovered, later, that her supposed marriagewith him was a sham; how, soon after the birth of her child--Edith--herhusband had deserted her for another, leaving her alone and unprotectedin that strange land. 

She related how, in her despair, her mother had resolved to die, andpleaded with her friend, Mrs. Allandale, to take her little one andrear it as her own, thus securing to her a happy home and life withoutthe possibility of ever discovering the stigma attached to her birthor the cruel fate of her mother. 

Royal Bryant listened to the pathetic tale without once interruptingthe fair narrator, and Edith's heart sank more and more in her bosomas she proceeded, and feared that she was so shocking him by theserevelations that his affection for her would die with this expose ofher secret. 

But he still held her hand clasped in his; and when, at the conclusionof her story, she gently tried to withdraw it, his fingers closed morefirmly over hers, when, bending still nearer to her, he questioned, infond, eager tones:

"Was this the reason of your leaving New York so abruptly lastDecember?"

"Yes. "

"Was it because you loved me and could not trust yourself to meet meday after day without betraying the fact when you feared that theknowledge of your birth might become a barrier between us? Tell me, mydarling, truly!"

"Yes, " Edith confessed; "but how could you guess it--how could youread my heart so like an open book?"

The young man laughed out musically, and there was a ring of joyoustriumph in the sound. 

"'Tis said that 'love is blind, '" he said, "but mine was keen to readthe signs I coveted, and I believed, even when you were in yourdeepest trouble, that you were beginning to love me, and that I shouldeventually win you. "

"Why! did you begin to--" Edith began, and then checked herself insudden confusion. 

"Did I begin to plan to win you so far back as that?" he laughinglyexclaimed, and putting his own interpretation upon her half-finishedsentence. "My darling, I began to love you and to wish for you evenbefore your first day's work was done for me. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

A NEW CHARACTER IS INTRODUCED. 

"And now, love, " the eager wooer continued, as he dropped the hand hehad been holding and drew the happy girl into his arms, "you will giveyourself to me--you will give me the right to stand between you andall future care or trouble?"

"Then you do not mind what I have just told you?" questioned Edith, timidly. 

"Not in the least, only so far as it occasions you unhappiness oranxiety, " unhesitatingly replied the young man. "You are unscathed byit--the sin and the shame belong alone to the man who ruined the lifeof your mother. You are my pearl, my fair lily, unspotted by anyblight, and I should be unworthy of you, indeed, did I allow what youhave told me to prejudice me in the slightest degree. Now tell me, Edith, that henceforth there shall be no barrier between us--tell methat you love me. "

"How can I help it?" she murmured, as with a flood of ineffable joysweeping into her soul she dropped her bright head upon his breast andyielded to his embrace. 

"And will you be my wife?"

"Oh, if it is possible--if I can be, " she faltered. "Are you sure thatI am not already bound?"

"Leave all that to me--do not fret, even for one second, over it, " herlover tenderly returned. Then he added, more lightly: "I am so sure, sweetheart, that to-morrow I shall bring you a letter which willproclaim to all whom it may concern, that henceforth you belong tome. "

He lifted her face when he ceased speaking, and pressed his firstcaress upon her lips. 

A little later he inquired:

"And have you no clue to the name of your parents?"

"No; all the clue that I have is simply the name of 'Belle' that wassigned to the letters of which I have told you, " Edith replied, with aregretful sigh. 

"It is perhaps just as well, dear, after all, " said her lover, cheerfully; "if you knew more, and should ever chance to meet the manwho so wronged your mother, it might cause you a great deal ofunhappiness. "

"I have not a regret on his account, " said Edith, bitterly; "but Iwould like to know something about my mother's early history and herfriends. I have only sympathy and love in my heart for her, in spiteof the fact that she erred greatly in leaving her home as she did, and, worse than all, in taking her own life. "

"Poor little woman!" said Royal Bryant, with gentle sympathy; "despairmust have turned her brain--she was more sinned against than sinning. But girls do not realize what a terrible mistake they are making whenthey allow men to persuade them to elope, leave their homes and bestfriends, and submit to a secret marriage. No man of honor would evermake such proposals to any woman--no man is worthy of any pure girl'slove who will ask such a sacrifice on her part; and, in nine cases outof ten, I believe nothing but misery results from such a step. "

"As in the case of poor Giulia Fiorini, " remarked Edith, sadly. "Butmaybe she will be somewhat comforted when she discovers that she isEmil Correlli's legal wife. "

"I fear that such knowledge will be but small satisfaction to her, "her companion responded, "for if she should take measures to compelhim to recognize the tie, he would doubtless rebel against thedecision of the court; and, if she still loves him as you haverepresented, he would make her very wretched. However, he can beforced to make generous settlements, which will enable her to livecomfortably and educate her child. "

"And he will be entitled to his father's name, will he not?" inquiredEdith, eagerly; "that would comfort her more than anything else. "

"Yes, if he has ever acknowledged her as his wife, or allowed it to beassumed that she was, the child is entitled to the name, " returned herlover. Then, as the carriage stopped, he added: "But here we are, mydarling and I am sure you must be very weary after your long journey. "

"Yes, I am tired, but very, very happy, " the fair girl replied, looking up into his face with a sigh of content. 

He smiled fondly upon her as he led her up the steps of a modest butpretty house, between the draperies at the windows of which therestreamed a cheerful light. 

"Well, we will soon have you settled in a cozy room where you can restto your heart's content, " he remarked, and at the same time touchingthe electric button by his side. 

"Really, Mr. Bryant, I cannot help feeling guilty to intrude upon anentire stranger at this time of night, " Edith observed, in a troubledtone. 

"You need not, dear, for I assure you Nellie will be delighted;but"--bending over her with a roguish laugh--"Mr. Bryant does notenjoy being addressed with so much formality by his fiancee. The nameI love best--Roy--my mother gave me when I was a boy, and I wantalways to hear it from your lips after this. "

A servant admitted them just at that moment, and upon responding toMr. Bryant's inquiry, said that Mrs. Morrell was at home, and usheredthem at once to her pretty parlor. 

Presently the young hostess--a lady of perhaps twenty-five years--madeher appearance and greeted her cousin With great cordiality. 

"You know I am always glad to see you, Roy, " she said, giving him bothher hands and putting up her red lips for a cousinly kiss. 

"I know you always make a fellow feel very welcome, " said the youngman, smiling. "And, Nellie, this is Miss Edith Allandale; she has justarrived from Boston, and I am going to ask you to receive her as yourguest for a few days, " he concluded, thus introducing Edith. 

Mrs. Morrell turned smilingly to the beautiful girl. 

"Miss Allandale is doubly welcome, for her own sake, as well asyours, " was her gracious response, as she clasped Edith's hand, and ifshe experienced any surprise at thus having an utter stranger thrustupon her hospitality at that hour, she betrayed none, but proceeded atonce to help her remove her hat and wraps. 

Tears sprang to the eyes of the homeless girl at this cordialreception, and her lips quivered with repressed emotion as she thankedthe gentle lady for it. 

"What was that Roy was saying--that you have come from Boston thisafternoon?" queried Mrs. Morrell, hastening to cover her embarrassmentby changing the subject. "Then you must be nearly famished, and youmust have a lunch before you go to rest. "

"Pray, do not trouble yourself--" Edith began. 

"Please let me--I like such 'trouble, ' as you are pleased to term it, "smilingly interposed the pretty hostess; and with a bright nod and ahurried "excuse me, " she was gone before Edith could make furtherobjections. 

"Nellie is the most hospitable little woman in the universe, " Mr. Bryant remarked, as the door closed after her; "she is never so happyas when she is feeding the hungry or making somebody comfortable. "

Fifteen minutes later she reappeared, a lovely flush on her roundcheeks, her eyes bright with the pleasure she experienced in doing akind act for the young stranger, toward whom she had been instantlyattracted. 

"Come, now, " she said, holding out a hand to her, "and I know Roy willjoin us--he never yet refused a cup of tea of my own brewing. "

"You are right, Nellie, " smilingly replied that gentleman; "and Ibelieve I am hungry, in spite of my hearty dinner at six o'clock. Aride over the pavements of New York will prepare almost any one for anextra meal. I only hope you have a slice of Aunt Janes's old-fashionedgingerbread for me. "

Mrs. Morrell laughed out musically at this last remark. 

"I never dare to be without it, " she retorted, "for you never fail toask for it. This cousin of mine, Miss Allandale, is always hungry whenhe comes to see me, and is never satisfied to go away without hisslice of gingerbread. Perhaps, " she added, shooting a roguish glancefrom one face to the other, for she had been quick to fathom theirrelations, "you will some time like to have mamma's recipe for it. "

A conscious flush mantled Edith's cheek at this playful thrust, whilethe young lawyer gave vent to a hearty laugh of amusement in which acertain joyous ring betrayed to the shrewd little woman that she hadnot fired her shot amiss. 

Then she led them into her home-like dining-room, where a table waslaid for three, and where, over a generous supply of cold chicken, delicious bread and butter, home-made preserves, and the much laudedgingerbread, the trio spent a social half-hour, and Edith felt a senseof rest and content such as she had not experienced since leaving herFifth avenue home, more than two years previous. 

As soon as the meal was finished, Mrs. Morrell, who saw how weary andheavy-eyed the fair girl appeared, remarked to her cousin, with apretty air of authority, that she was "going to carry her guest offupstairs to bed immediately. "

"You stay here until I come back, Roy, " she added. "Charlie wasobliged to go out upon important business, and I shall be glad of yourcompany for a while. "

"Very well, Nellie! I will stay for a little chat, for I havesomething important which I wish to say to you. "

As he concluded he darted a smiling glance at Edith, which againbrought the lovely color to her cheeks and revealed to her the natureof the important communication that he intended to make to his cousin. 

She bade him a smiling good-night, and then gladly accompanied herhostess above, for she was really more weary than she hadacknowledged. 

When Mrs. Morrell returned to the parlor, Roy related to her somethingof Edith's history, and also confessed his own relationship towardher, while the little woman listened with an absorbed attention whichbetrayed how thoroughly she enjoyed the romance of the affair. 

"She is lovely!" she remarked, "and"--with a thoughtful air--"it seemsto me as if I have heard the name before. Edith Allandale!--it soundsvery familiar to me. Why, Roy! she was one of Sister Blanche'sclassmates at Vassar, and she has her picture in her class album!"

"That is a singular coincidence!" the young man observed, no lesssurprised at this revelation, "and it makes matters all the morepleasant for me to learn that she is not wholly unknown to thefamily. "

"And you mean to marry her very soon?" inquired his cousin. 

"Just as soon as I can settle matters with that rascal in Boston toher satisfaction, " responded the young man, with a gleam of fire inhis eyes. "I do not apprehend any serious trouble about the affair;still, it may take longer than I wish. "

"And may I keep her until then?" eagerly inquired Mrs. Morrell. 

"Nellie! that is like your kind, generous heart!" exclaimed the youngman, gratefully; "and I thank you from the bottom of mine. But, ofcourse, that will have to be as Edith herself decides, while thisbusiness which I have in charge for her may interfere with such anarrangement. "

"Oh, you mean in connection with the strange gentleman who has beensearching for her. "

"Yes. But I must go now; it is getting late, and I have a couple ofletters to write yet. Take good care of my treasure, Nellie, and Iwill run in as early to-morrow as possible to see you both. "

He kissed her affectionately, then bade her good-night and hurriedaway to his rooms at his club; while pretty Mrs. Morrell went back toher parlor, after letting him out, to await her husband's return, andto think over the romantic story to which she had just listened withdeep interest. 

There had been so much of a personal and tender nature to occupy theirminds that Mr. Bryant had not thought to tell Edith anything about thecircumstances that had led him to advertise in various papers forintelligence of her. 

Some three weeks previous, a gentleman, of about fifty years, andcalling himself Louis Raymond, had presented himself in his office, and inquired if he could give him any information regarding the lateAlbert Allandale's family. 

He stated that he had spent most of his life abroad, but, his healthbeginning to fail, he had decided to return to his own country. 

He had been quite ill since his arrival, and he began to fear that hehad not long to live, and it behooved him to settle his affairswithout further delay. 

He stated that he had no relatives or family--he had never married;but, being possessed of large wealth, he wished to settle half of itupon Mrs. Allandale, if she could be found, or, if she was not living, upon her children. The remaining half he designed as a legacy to acertain charitable institution in the city. 

He stated that he had been searching for the Allandales for severalweeks; he had learned of Mr. Allandale's financial troubles andsubsequent death, but could get no trace whatever of the other membersof the family. He was wearied out with his search, and now wished toturn the matter over to some one stronger than himself, and betterversed in conducting such affairs. 

Mr. Bryant could not fail to regard it as a singular coincidence thatthis business should have been thrown into his hands, especially as hewas also so anxious to find Edith; and it can well be understood thathe at once entered into the gentleman's plans with all his heart andsoul. 

He, of course, related all he knew of her history, and when he spokeof Mrs. Allandale's death he was startled to see his client growdeathly white and become so unnerved that, for a moment, he feared theshock would prove more than he could sustain. 

But he recovered himself after a few moments. 

"So she is gone!" he murmured, with a look in his eyes that told thesecret of a deathless but unrequited love. "Well, Death's scythespares no one, and perhaps it is better so. But this girl--herdaughter, " he added, rousing himself from his sad reflections; "wemust try to find her. "

"We will do our utmost, " said the young lawyer, with a heartinesswhich betrayed the deep interest he felt in the matter. "As I havetold you, I have not the slightest knowledge of her whereabouts, butthink she may possibly be in Boston. Her letter to me, written justprevious to her departure, gave me not the slightest clew to herdestination. She promised to write to a woman who had been kind toher, and I arranged with her to let me know when she received aletter; but I have never seen her since--I once went to the housewhere she lived, but she had moved, and no one could tell me anythingabout her. "

It may be as well to state here that shortly after Edith left NewYork, poor Mrs. O'Brien fell and broke her leg. She was taken to ahospital, and her children put into a home, consequently she neverreceived Edith's letter, which was of course addressed to her oldresidence. 

"I think our wisest course will be to advertise, " the young lawyerpursued; "and if we do not achieve our end in that way, we can adoptother measures later on. "

"Well, sir, do your best--I don't mind expense; and if the young ladycan be found, I have a story to tell her which I think will deeplyinterest her, " the gentleman returned. "If we should not be successfulin the course of a few weeks, I will make a settlement upon her, to beleft, with some other papers, in your hands for a reasonable period, in the event of my death. But if all your efforts prove unavailing, the money will eventually go, with the rest, to the institution I havenamed. "

Thus the matter had been left, and Mr. Bryant had immediatelyadvertised, as we have seen, in several New York and Boston papers. 

Three weeks had elapsed without any response, and Royal Bryant wasbeginning to be discouraged when he was suddenly made jubilant byreceiving the telegram which Edith had written on the train afterleaving Boston. 

Thus, after leaving the house of his cousin, he repaired to his club, where he wrote a letter to his client, Mr. Raymond, telling him thatMiss Allandale was found, and asking him to meet him at his office atas early an hour the following morning as possible. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

AN EXCITING INTERVIEW AND AN APPALLING DISCOVERY. 

We must now transport ourselves to Boston, in order to find out howEdith's flight was discovered, and what effect it produced in theGoddards' elegant home on Commonwealth avenue. 

Emil Correlli had been seated in the handsome library, reading asociety novel, when his sister went out to make her call, leaving himas guard over their prisoner above. 

He had been much pleased with the report which she brought him fromEdith, namely, that she believed she was yielding, and would make herappearance at dinner; at the same time he did not allow himself for amoment to become so absorbed in his book as to forget that he was onthe watch for the slightest movement above stairs. 

He and Mrs. Goddard had agreed that it would be wise not to make thegirl a prisoner within her room, lest they antagonize her by so doing. 

But while they appeared to leave her free to go out or come in, theyintended to guard her none the less securely, and thus MonsieurCorrelli kept watch and ward below. 

He knew that Edith could not leave the house by the front door withouthis knowing it, and as he also knew that the back stairway door waslocked on the outside, he had no fear that she would escape that way. 

He, had not reckoned, however, upon the fact of an outsider enteringby means of the area door and going upstairs, thus leaving that wayavailable for Edith; and Giulia Fiorini had accomplished her purposeso cleverly and so noiselessly that no one save Edith dreamed of herpresence in the house. 

The two girls had carried on their conversation in such subdued tonesthat not a sound could be heard by any one below, and thus EmilCorrelli was taken entirely by surprise when there came a gentle knockupon the half-open library door to interrupt his reading. 

"Come in, " he called out, thinking it might be one of the servants. 

But when the door was pushed wider, and a woman entered, bearing achild in her arms, the astonished man sprang to his feet, an angryoath leaping to his lips, and every atom of color fading out of hisface. 

"Giulia?" he exclaimed, under his breath. 

"Papa! papa!" cried the child, clapping his little hands, as hestruggled out of his mother's arms, and ran toward him. 

He took no notice of the child, but frowningly demanded, as he facedthe girl:

"How on earth did you ever get into this house?"

"By a door, of course, " laconically responded the intruder, but withcrimson cheeks and blazing eyes, for the man's rude manner had arousedall her spirit. 

"Well, and what do you want?" he cried, angrily; then, with a violentstart, he added, nervously: "Wait; sit down, and I will be back in amoment. "

It had occurred to him that if Giulia had been able to gain admittanceto the house without his hearing her, Edith might find it just as easyto make her escape from it. 

So, darting out of the room, he ran swiftly upstairs, to ascertain, aswe have seen, if his captive was still safe. 

We know the result, and how adroitly Edith allayed his suspicions;whereupon, wholly reassured regarding her, he returned to the libraryto settle, once for all, as he secretly resolved, with his discardedplaything. 

"Well, Giulia, " he began, as he re-entered her presence, "what hasbrought you here? what is your business with me?"

"I have come to ascertain if this is true, and what you have to sayabout it, " she answered, as she brought forth the newspaper which shehad shown Edith, and pointed to the article relating to the wedding atWyoming. 

The man tried to smile indifferently, but his eyes wavered beneath herblazing glance. 

"Well, what of it?" he at last questioned, assuming a defiant air;"what if it is true?"

"Is it true?" she persisted; "have you really married that girl?"

"And what if I have?" he again questioned, evasively. 

"I want the truth from your own lips--yes or no, Emil Correlli. "

"Well, then--yes, " he said, with a flash of anger. 

"You own it--you dare own it to me, and--in the presence of yourchild?" almost shrieked the outraged woman. 

"Stop, Giulia!" commanded her companion, sternly. "I will have noscene here to create a scandal among the servants. I intended to seeyou within a day or two; but, since you have sought me, we may as wellat once come to an understanding. Did you think that you could hold meall my life? A man in my position must have a home in which to receivehis friends, also a mistress in it to entertain them--"

"Have you forgotten all your vows and promises to me?" interposedGiulia, in tremulous tones; "that you swore everlasting fidelity tome?"

"A man vows a great many things that he finds he cannot fulfill, " wasthe unfeeling response. "Surely, Giulia, you must realize that neitheryour birth nor education could entitle you to such a position as mywife must occupy. "

"My birth was respectable, my education the best my country afforded, "said the girl, with white lips. "Had you no intention of marrying mewhen you enticed me from my home to cross the ocean with you?"

"No. "

The monosyllable seemed to fall like a heavy blow upon the girl'sheart, for she shivered, and her face was distorted with agony. 

"Oh, had you no heart? Why did you do such a fiendish thing?" shecried. 

"Because you were pretty and agreeable, and I liked pleasant company. I have been accustomed to have whatever I wished for all my life. "

"And you never loved me?"

"Oh, yes, for nearly three years I was quite fond of you--really, Giulia, I consider that I have been as faithful to you as you couldexpect. "

"Oh, wretch! but you love this other girl more?"

"It would be worse than useless to attempt to deceive you on thatpoint, " said the man, his whole face softening at this mention ofEdith. 

"You lied to me, then, Emil Correlli!" cried the miserable woman, hoarsely; "you swore to me that the girl was nothing to you--that shewas simply your sister's companion. "

"And I simply told you the truth, " he retorted. "She was nothing to meat that time; she was 'only my sister's companion. ' However, " headded, straightening himself haughtily, "there is no use in wranglingover the matter any further. I married Edith Allen the night beforelast, and henceforth she will be the mistress of my home. I confess itis a trifle hard on you, Giulia, " he continued, speaking in aconciliatory tone, "but you must try to be sensible about it. I willsettle a comfortable annuity upon you, and you can either go back toyour parents or make a pleasant home for yourself somewhere in thiscountry. "

"And what of this boy?" questioned the discarded girl, laying hertrembling hand upon the head of her child, who was looking from one tothe other, a wondering expression on his young face. 

Emil Correlli's lips twitched spasmodically for a moment. He wouldnever have confessed it to a human being, but the little one was thedearest object the world held for him. 

"I will provide handsomely for his future, " he said, after consideringfor a minute. "If you will give him up to me he shall be reared ascarefully as any gentleman's son, and, when he attains a proper age, Iwill establish him in some business or profession that will enable himto make his mark in the world. "

"You would take him away from me to do this?" Giulia exclaimed, as shepassionately caught her darling to her breast. 

"That would be necessary, in order to carry out my purpose as I wish, "the man coldly replied. 

"Never! You are a monster in human form to suggest such a thing. Doyou think I would ever give him up to you?"

"Just as you choose, " her companion remarked, indifferently. "I havemade you the proposition, and you can accept or reject it as you seefit, but if I take him, I cannot have his future hampered by anyenvironments or associations that would be likely to mar his life. "

"Coward!" the word was thrown at him in a way that stung him like alash, "do you dare twit me for what you alone are to blame? Where isyour honor--where your humanity? Have you forgotten how you used everyart to persuade me to leave the shelter of my pleasant home--theprotection of my honest father and mother, to come hither with you?how you promised, by all that was sacred, to make me your wife if Iwould do your bidding? What I am you have made me--what this child is, you are responsible for. Ah, Emil Correlli, you have much to answerfor, and the day will yet come when you will bitterly repent theseirreparable wrongs--"

"Come, come Giulia! you are getting beside yourself with your tragicairs, " her companion here interposed, in a would-be soothing tone. "There is no use working yourself up into a passion and running onlike this. What has been done is done, and cannot be changed, so youhad best make the most of what is left you. As I said before, I willgive you a handsome allowance, and, if you will keep me postedregarding your whereabouts, I will make you and the boy a little visitnow and then. "

The girl regarded him with flashing eyes and sullen brow. 

"You will live to repent, " she remarked, as she gathered the child upin her arms and arose to leave the room, "and before this day is endedyour punishment shall begin; you shall never know one moment ofhappiness with the girl whom you have dared to put in my place. "

"Bah! all this is idle chatter, Giulia, " said Emil Correlli, contemptuously; nevertheless, he paled visibly, and a cold chill ranover him, for somehow her words impressed him as a prophecy. 

"What! are you going in such a temper as that?" he added, as sheturned toward the door. "Well, when you get over it, let me hear fromyou occasionally. "

"Never fear; you will hear from me oftener than you will like, " sheflashed out at him, with a look that made him cringe, as she laid herhand upon the knob of the door. 

"Stay, Giulia! Aren't you going to let me have a word with Ino? Here, you black-eyed little rascal, haven't you anything to say to yourdaddy?" he added, in a coaxing tone to the child. 

"Mamma, may I talk to papa?" queried the little one, turning apleading glance upon his mother. 

"By the way, " interposed the man, before she could reply, "you mustput a stop to the youngster calling me that; it might be awkward, yousee, if we should happen to meet some time upon the street. I like thelittle chap well enough, but you must teach him to keep his mouth shutwhen he comes near me. "

"Who taught him the name?" sharply retorted Giulia. "Who boasted howbright and clever he was the first time he uttered the English word?"

Her listener flushed hotly and frowned. 

"Your tongue is very sharp, Giulia, " he said. "It would be more toyour advantage to be upon good terms with me. "

She made no reply, but, opening the door, passed out into the hall, hefollowing her. 

"As you will, " he curtly said; then added, imperatively: "Come thisway, " and, leading her to the front door, he let her quietly out, gladto be rid of her before the butler or any of the other servants couldlearn of her presence in the house. 

He watched her pass down the steps and out upon the street, then, softly closing the door, went back to the library. 

He threw himself into a chair with a long-drawn sigh. 

"I am afraid she means mischief, " he muttered, with a frown. "I mustget Edith away as soon as possible; I would not have them meet foranything. What a little vixen the girl is, curse her!"

He glanced at the clock. 

It was five minutes of three, and twenty-fire since he went up toEdith's room. 

"It is about time she came down, " he mused, with a shrug ofimpatience. 

He arose and paced the room for a few moments, then passed out intothe hall and listened. 

The house was very still; he could not detect a sound anywhere. 

He went slowly upstairs, walked up and down the hall once or twice, then rapped again upon Edith's door. 

There was no response from within. 

He knocked again. 

Still silence!

He tried the door. 

It was not locked; it yielded to his touch, and he pushed it open. 

A quick glance around showed him that no one was there, and with agreat heart-throb of fear he boldly entered. 

Everything was exactly as he had left it when, the day before, he hadso carefully arranged the room for the girl's comfort and pleasure. 

The beautiful dresses hung over the foot-board of the bed--not even afold had been disturbed--while the elegant sealskin cloak and thedainty hat and muff lay exactly as he had placed them, to display themto the best advantage. 

The veins swelled out hard and full on his forehead--a gleam ofbaffled rage leaped into his eyes. 

He sprang to the closet, throwing wide the door. 

It was empty. 

"She may have gone to the toilet-room, " he muttered, grasping at thisstraw of hope. 

He dashed across the hall and rapped upon the door. 

But he met with no response. 

He entered. The place was empty. 

Back into the south chamber he sprang again, and began to search forEdith's hats and wraps. 

Not an article of her clothing was visible. 

He tried to open her trunk. 

Of course it was locked. 

He was now white as death, and actually shaking with anger. 

He went to the dressing-case and mechanically opened the upper drawer. 

All the costly treasures that he had purchased to tempt his bride laythere, exactly as he had placed them; he doubted if she had even seenthem. 

With a curse on his lips he went out, and looked into every other roomon that floor; but it was, of course, a fruitless search. 

Then he turned into the rear hall and went down the back stairs. 

Ah! the door at the bottom was ajar. 

Another moment he was in the lower hall, to find the area doorunfastened; then he knew how his bird had flown. 

He instantly summoned the servants, and took them to task for theirnegligence. 

Both the cook and the chambermaid avowed that no one but the gas-manhad entered or gone out by the area door that afternoon. 

But, upon questioning them closely, Emil Correlli ascertained that theouter door had been left unfastened "just a moment, while the man wentto the meter, to take the figures. "

A close search revealed the fact that the key to the stairway door wasmissing, and, putting this and that together, the keen-witted manreasoned out just what had happened. 

He believed that Giulia had stolen in through the area door close uponthe heels of the gas-man; that she had found the key, unlocked thestairway-door, and made her way up to the library to seek an interviewwith him--he did not once suspect her of having seen Edith--whileEdith, upon reconnoitering and finding the back way clear, had takenadvantage of the situation and flown. 

He was almost frantic with mingled rage and despair. 

He angrily berated the servants for their carelessness, and vowedthat he would have them discharged; then, having exhausted hisvocabulary upon them, he went back to the library, wrathfully cursingGiulia for having forced herself into his presence to distract hisattention, and thus allow his captive an opportunity to escape. 

Mr. And Mrs. Goddard returned about this time, both looking as if theyalso had met with some crushing blow, for the former was white andhaggard, and the latter wild-eyed, and shivering from time to time, asif from a chill. 

Both were apparently too absorbed in some trouble of their own to feelvery much disturbed by the flight of Edith, although Mr. Goddard'sface involuntarily lighted for an instant when he was told of herescape. 

Emil Correlli flew to the nearest telegraph office and dashed off amessage to a New York policeman, with whom he had had some dealingswhile living in that city, giving him a description of Edith, andordering him, if he could lay his hands upon her, to telegraph back, and then detain her until he could arrive and relieve him of hischarge. 

He reasoned--and rightly, as we have seen--that Edith, would be morelikely to return to her old home, where she knew every crook and turn, rather than to seek refuge in Boston, where she was friendless and acomparative stranger. 

A few hours later he received a reply from the policeman, giving himan account of his adventure with Miss Edith Allandale and her escort. 

"By heavens, she shall not thus escape me!" he exclaimed; and at oncemade rapid preparations for a journey. 

Half an hour afterward he was on the eleven o'clock express train, inpursuit of the fair fugitive, in a state of mind that was far fromenviable. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

MRS. GODDARD BECOMES AN EAVESDROPPER. 

When, after her interview with Edith, Mrs. Goddard went out to makeher call, leaving her brother to keep watch and ward over their faircaptive, she proceeded with all possible speed to the Copley SquareHotel, where she inquired for Mrs. Stewart. 

The elevator bore her to the second floor, and the pretty maid, whoanswered her ring at the door of the elegant suite to which she hadbeen directed, told her that her mistress was engaged just at present, but, if madam would walk into the reception-room and wait a while, shehad no doubt that Mrs. Stewart would soon be at liberty. "Would madambe kind enough to give her a card to take in?"

Mrs. Goddard pretended to look for her card-case, first in one pocketof her wrap, then in another. 

"Ah!" she exclaimed, "I must have left my cards at home! Howunfortunate! But it does not matter, " she added, with one of herbrilliant smiles; "I am an old acquaintance, and you can simplyannounce me when I am admitted. "

The girl bowed and went away, leaving the visitor by herself in thepretty reception-room, for she had been told not to disturb hermistress until she should ring for her. 

Mrs. Goddard looked curiously around her, and was impressed with theelegance of everything in the apartment. 

Exquisite paintings and engravings graced the delicately tinted walls;choice statuettes, bric-a-brac, and old-world curios of everydescription, which she knew must have cost a small fortune even in thecountries where they were produced, were artistically arranged aboutthe room. 

There was also an air of refinement and rare taste in the draperies, carpets, and blending of color, which proclaimed the occupant of theplace to be above the average lady in point of culture andappreciation of all that was beautiful. 

Impressed with all this, and looking back to her meeting with Mrs. Stewart, on the evening of the ball at Wyoming--remembering her beautyand grace, and the elegance of her costume, madam's heart sank withinher, and she seemed to age with every passing moment. 

"Oh, to think of it!--to think of it, after all these years! I willnot believe it!" she murmured, with white, trembling lips, as shearose and nervously paced the room. 

Presently the sound of muffled voices in a room beyond attracted herattention. 

She started and bent her ear to listen. 

She could catch no word that was spoken, although she coulddistinguish now a man's and then a woman's tones. 

With stealthy movements she glided into the next room, which was evenmore luxuriously furnished than the one she had left, when sheobserved that the portieres, draping an arch leading into stillanother apartment, were closely drawn. 

And now, although she could not hear what was being said, she suddenlyrecognized, with a pang of agony that made her gasp for breath, thevoice of her husband in earnest conversation with the woman who hadbeen her guest two nights previous. 

As noiselessly as a cat creeps after her prey, Anna Goddard stoleacross that spacious apartment and concealed herself among thevoluminous folds of the draperies, where she found that she couldeasily hear all that was said. 

"You are very hard, Isabel, " she heard Gerald Goddard remark, in areproachful voice. 

"I grant you that, " responded the liquid tones of his companion, "asfar as you and--that woman are concerned, I have no more feeling thana stone. "

At those words, "that woman, " spoken in accents of supreme contempt, the eyes of Anna Goddard began to blaze with a baneful gleam. 

"And you will never forgive me for the wrong I did you so long ago?"pleaded the man, with a sigh. 

"What do you mean by that word 'forgive?'" coldly inquired Mrs. Stewart. 

"Pardon, remission--as Shakespeare has it, 'forgive and quite forgetold faults, '" returned Gerald Goddard, in a voice tremulous withrepressed emotion. 

"Forget!" repeated the beautiful woman, in a wondering tone. 

"Ah, if you could, " eagerly cried her visitor; then, as if he couldcontrol himself no longer, he went on, with passionate vehemence: "Oh, Isabel! when you burst upon me, so like a radiant star, the othernight, and I realized that you were still in the flesh, instead oflying in that lonely grave in far-off-Italy--when I saw you so grandlybeautiful--saw how wonderfully you had developed in every way, all theold love came back to me, and I realized my foolish mistake of thatby-gone time as I had never realized it before. "

Ah! if the man could have seen the white, set face concealed among thedraperies so near him--if he could have caught the deadly gleam thatshone with tiger-like fury in Anna Goddard's dusky eyes--he neverwould have dared to face her again after giving utterance to thosemaddening words. 

"It strikes me, Mr. Goddard, that it is rather late--after twentyyears--to make such an acknowledgment to me, " Isabel Stewart retorted, with quiet irony. 

"I know it--I feel it now, " he responded, in accents of despair. "Iknow that I forfeited both your love and respect when I began to yieldto the charms and flatteries of Anna Correlli. She was handsome, asyou know; she began to be fond of me from the moment of ourintroduction; and when, in an unguarded moment, I revealed the--thefact that you were not my wife, she resolved that she would supplantyou--"

"Yes, 'the woman--she gavest me and I did eat, '" interposed hiscompanion, with a scathing ring of scorn in the words. "That is alwaysthe cry of cowards like you, when they find themselves worsted bytheir own folly, " she went on, indignantly. "Woman must always bearthe scorpion lash of blame from her betrayer while the world alsoawards her only shame and ostracism from society, if she yields to thepersuasive voice of her charmer, admiring and believing in him andallowing him to go unsmirched by the venomous breath of scandal. It isonly his victim--his innocent victim oftentimes, as in my case--whosuffers; he is greeted everywhere with open arms and flatteringsmiles, even though he repeats his offenses again and again. "

"Isabel! spare me!"

"No, I will not spare you, " she continued, sternly. "You know, GeraldGoddard, that I was a pure and innocent girl when you tempted me toleave my father's house and flee with you to Italy. You were olderthan I, by eight years; you had seen much of the world, and you knewyour power. You cunningly planned that secret marriage, which youintended from the first should be only a farce, but which, I havelearned since, was in every respect a legal ceremony--"

"Ha! I thought so!" cried her companion, with a sudden shock. "Whendid you hear?--who told you?"

"I met your friend, Will Forsyth, only two years ago--just before myreturn to this country--and when I took him to task for the shamefulpart which he had played to assist you in carrying out yourignominious plot, telling him that you had owned to his beingdisguised as an aged minister to perform the sacrilegious ceremony, heconfessed to me that, at the last moment, his heart had failed him, whereupon he went to an old clergyman, a friend of his father, revealed everything, and persuaded him to perform the marriage in alegal manner; and thus, Gerald Goddard, I became your lawful wifeinstead of your victim, as you supposed. "

"Yes, I know it. Forsyth afterward sent me the certificate andexplained everything to me, " the man admitted, with a guilty flush. "Ireceived the paper about a year after the report of your death. "

"Ah! that could not have been very gratifying to--your other--victim, "remarked Mrs. Stewart, with quiet sarcasm. 

"Isabel! you are merciless!" cried the man, writhing under her scorn. "But since you have learned so much, I may as well tell youeverything. Of course Anna was furious when she discovered that shewas no wife, for I had sworn to her that there was no legal tiebetween you and me--"

"Ah! then she also learned the truth!" interposed his companion. "Ialmost wonder you did not try to keep the knowledge from her. "

"I could not--she was present when the document arrived, and the shockto me was so great I betrayed it, and she insisted upon knowing whathad caused it, when she raved like an insane person, for a time. "

"But I suppose you packed her by being married over again, since youhave lived with her for nearly twenty years, " remarked Mrs. Stewart. 

"No, I did not, " returned her visitor, hotly. "To tell the truth, Ihad begun to tire of her even then--she was so furiously jealous, passionate, and unreasonable upon the slightest pretext that at timesshe made life wretched for me. So I told myself that so long as I heldthat certificate as proof that she had no legal hold upon me, I shouldhave it in my power to manage her and cow her into submission when shebecame ungovernable by other means. I represented to her that, to allintents and purposes, we were man and wife, and if we should have theceremony repeated, after having lived together so long, it wouldcreate a scandal, for some one would be sure to find it out, sooner orlater. For a time this appeared to pacify her; but one day, during myabsence from home, she stole the certificate, although I thought I hadconcealed it where no one would think of looking for it. It has beenin her possession ever since. I have tried many times to recover it;but she was more clever than I, and I never could find it, while shehas always told me that she would never relinquish it, except upon onecondition--"

"And that was--what?"

"Ever the same old demand--that I would make her legally my wife. "

"But she never could have been that so long as I lived, " objected Mrs. Stewart. 

"True; but she would have been satisfied with a repetition of theceremony, as we did not know that you were living. "

"If you have been so unhappy, why have you lived with her all theseyears?"

The man hesitated for a moment before replying to this question. Atlength he said, although he flushed scarlet over the confession:

"There have been several reasons. In spite of her variable moods andmany faults, Anna is a handsome and accomplished woman. She entertainsmagnificently, and has made an elegant mistress for our establishment. We have been over the world together several times, and are known inmany cities both in this country and abroad, consequently it wouldhave occasioned no end of scandal if there had been a separation. Thus, though she has tried my patience sorely at times, we haveperhaps, on the whole, got along as amicably as hundreds of othercouples. Besides--ahem!--"

The man abruptly ceased, as if, unwittingly, he had been about to saysomething that had better be left unsaid. 

"Well--besides what?" queried his listener. 

"Doubtless you will think it rather a humiliating confession to make, "said Gerald Goddard, with a crestfallen air, "but during the last fewyears I have lost a great deal of money in unfortunate speculation, so--I have been somewhat dependent upon Anna in a financial way. "

"Ah! I understand, " remarked Mrs. Stewart, her delicate nostrilsdilating scornfully at this evidence of a weak, ease-loving nature, that would be content to lean upon a rich wife, rather than be up anddoing for himself, and making his own way in the world. "Are you notengaged with your profession?"

"No; Anna has not been willing, for a long time, that I should paintfor money. "

"And so your talents are deteriorating for want of use. "

The scorn in her tones stung him keenly, and he flushed to histemples. 

"You do not appear to lack for the luxuries of life, " he retorted, glancing about the elegant apartment, with a sullen air, but ignoringher thrust. 

"No, I have an abundance, " she quietly replied; but evidently she didnot deem it necessary to explain how she happened to be so favored. 

"Will you explain to me the mystery of your existence, Isabel?" Mr. Goddard inquired, after an awkward silence. "I cannot understand it--Iam sometimes tempted to believe that you are not Isabel, after all, but some one else who--"

"Pray disabuse yourself of all such doubts, " she quickly interposed, "for I assure you that I am none other than that confiding butmisguided girl whom you sought to lure to her destruction twenty yearsago. If it were necessary, I could give you every detail of our lifefrom the time I left my home until that fatal day when you deserted mefor Anna Correlli. "

"But Anna claims that she saw you dead in your casket. "

A slight shiver shook the beautiful woman from head to foot at thisreference to the ghastly subject. 

"Yes, I know it--"

"You know it!" exclaimed the man, amazed. 

"Exactly; but I will tell you the whole story, and then you will nolonger have any doubt regarding my identity, " Mrs. Stewart remarked. "After you left Rome with Anna Correlli, and I realized that I hadbeen abandoned, and my child left to the tender mercies of a worldthat would not hesitate to brand her with a terrible stigma, for whichher father alone was to blame, I resolved that I would not live. Grief, shame, and despair for the time rendered me insane, else I, whohad been religiously reared, with a feeling of horror for thesuicide's end, would never have dared to meditate taking the life thatbelonged to God. I was not so bereft of sense, however, but that mymotherhood inspired me to make an effort to provide for my little one, and I wrote an earnest appeal to my old schoolmate and friend, EdithAllandale, who, I knew, would shortly be in Rome, asking her to takethe child and rear her as her own--"

"What! Then you did not try to drown the child as well as yourself!"gasped Gerald Goddard, in an excited tone. 

"No; had I done so, I should never have lived to tell you this story, "said the woman, tremulously. "But wait--you shall learn everything, asfar as I know, just as it happened. Having written my appeal, which Ifelt sure would be heeded, I took my baby to the woman who had nursedme, told her that I had been suddenly called away, and asked her tocare for her until my return. She readily promised, not oncesuspecting that a stranger would come for her in my place, and that itwas my purpose never to see her again. From the moment of my leavingthe woman's house--that last straw of surrendering my baby was morethan my heart and brain could bear--everything, with one exception, was a blank to me until I awoke to consciousness, five weeks later, tofind myself being tenderly cared for in the home of a young man, whowas spending the winter in Rome for his health. His sister--a lovelygirl, a few years his senior--was with him, acting both as his nurseand physician, she having taken her degree in a Philadelphia medicalcollege, just out of love for the profession. And she it was who hadcared for me during my long illness. She told me that her brother wasin the habit of spending a great deal of his time upon the Tiber; thatone evening, just at dusk, as he was upon the point of passing under abridge, a little way out of the city, he was startled to see some oneleap from it into the water and immediately sink. He shot his boat tothe spot, and when the figure arose to the surface, he was ready tograsp it. It was no easy matter to lift it into his boat, but hesucceeded at last, when he rowed with all possible speed back to thecity, where, instead of notifying the police and giving me into theirhands to be taken either to a hospital or to the morgue, as the casemight demand, he procured a carriage and took me directly to his home, where he felt that his sister could do more for me than any one else. "

"Who was this young man?" Gerald Goddard here interposed, while hesearched his companion's face curiously. 

"Willard Livermore, " calmly replied Mrs. Stewart, as she steadily methis glance, although the color in her cheeks deepened visibly. 

"Ha! the man who accompanied you to Wyoming night before last?"

"Yes. "

"I have heard that he has long wanted to marry you--that he is yourlover, " said Mr. Goddard, flashing a jealous look at her. 

"He is my friend, stanch and true; a man whom I honor above all men, "was the composed reply; but the woman's voice was vibrant with anearnestness which betrayed how much the words meant to her. 

"Then why have you not married him?"

"Because I was already bound. "

"But you have told me that you did not know you were legally bounduntil within the last two years. "

Isabel Stewart lifted a grave glance to her companion's face. 

"When, as a girl, I left my home to go with you to Italy, " she said, solemnly, "I took upon myself vows which only death could cancel--theywere as binding upon me as if you had always been true to me; and so, while you lived, I could never become the wife of another. I havelived my life as a pure and faithful wife should live. Although myyouth was marred by an irrevocable mistake, which resulted in an actof frenzy for which I was not accountable, no willful wrong has evercast a blight upon my character since the day that Willard Livermorerescued me from a watery grave in the depths of the yellow Tiber. "

And Gerald Goddard, looking into the beautiful and noble face beforehim, knew that she spoke only the truth, while a blush of shame surgedover his own, and caused his head to droop before the purity of hersteadfast eyes. 

"All efforts upon the part of Miss Livermore and her brother toresuscitate me, " Mrs. Stewart resumed, going on with her story fromthe point where she had been interrupted, "were unavailing. Anotherphysician was called to their assistance; but he at once pronouncedlife to be extinct, and their efforts were reluctantly abandoned. Eventhen that noble brother and sister would not allow me to be sent tothe morgue. They advertised in all the papers, giving a carefuldescription of me, and begging my friends--if there were such inRome--to come to claim me. Among the many curious gazerswho--attracted by the air of mystery which enveloped me--came to lookupon me, only one person seemed to betray the slightest evidence ofever having seen me before. That person was Anna Correlli--Ah! whatwas that?"

This sudden break and startled query was caused by the rattling of therings which held the portieres upon the pole across the archwaybetween the two rooms, and by the gentle swaying of the draperies toand fro. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

ISABEL STEWART ASTOUNDS MR. GODDARD. 

But there was not a sound to be heard in the room beyond, although thecurtains still continued to vibrate gently, thus showing the presenceof some object that had caused the movement. 

Mrs. Stewart arose to investigate, for the conversation in which shehad been engaged and the story she was relating were of such a naturethat she did not care to have a third party, especially a servant, overhear it. 

She parted the draperies and looked curiously into the room beyond. 

But her act only revealed a pretty maltese kitten, which, being thusaroused from its slumbers in its cozy place of concealment, rolledover on its back and began to play with the heavy fringe that borderedthe costly hangings. 

"Ah, Greylocks! so you are the rogue who has startled us!" said thelady, with an amused smile. "I feared that we had an eavesdropper. Youare a very innocent one, however, and we will not take the trouble tobanish you. "

She went back to her chair reassured, and without a suspicion of thepresence of one who hated her with a deadly hatred, and who stillstood, pale and trembling, concealed by the voluminous folds of thedraperies, but waiting with eager curiosity to overhear what shouldfollow. 

Meantime the maid who had admitted Mrs. Goddard, feeling that she mustbecome wearied with her long waiting, had returned to thereception-room to ascertain if she still desired to remain until hermistress should be at liberty; but finding it empty, had concludedthat the lady had left the house, and so went about her business, thinking no more of the matter. 

"Yes, " resumed Mrs. Stewart, after she had resumed her seat, "I knew, from the description which my kind friends afterward gave me, thatAnna Correlli had come there to assure herself that her rival wasreally dead. When--suspecting from her manner that she might knowsomething about me--they questioned her, she told them that, 'fromwhat she had read in the papers, she feared it might be some one whomshe knew; but she was mistaken--I was nothing to her--she had neverseen me before. ' Then she went away with an air of utter indifference, and I was left fortunately to the kindness of that noble heartedbrother and sister. They did everything that the fondest relativescould have done, and, in their divine pity for one so friendless andunfortunate, neglected not the smallest detail which they would havebestowed upon an own sister. Only they, besides the undertaker and theone Protestant pastor in the city, were present during the reading ofthe service; and when that was over, Willard Livermore, actuated bysome unaccountable impulse, insisted upon closing the casket. He bentover me to remove a Roman lily which his sister had placed in myhands, and which he wished to preserve, and, while doing so, observedthat my fingers were no longer rigid--that the nails were even faintlytinted. He was startled, and instantly summoned his sister. Hardly hadher own fingers pressed my pulse in search of evidence of life, whenmy eyes unclosed and I moaned:

"'Don't let her come near me! She has stolen all the love out of mylife!"

"Then I immediately relapsed again into unconsciousness without evenknowing I had spoken. Later, when told of the fact, I could dimlyrecall the sensation of a sudden shock which was instantly followed bya vision of Anna Correlli's face and the sound of her voice, and Ifirmly believe, to-day, that it was her presence alone that startledmy chilled pulses once more into action and thus awoke to new life thetorpid soul which had so nearly passed out into the great unknown. "

Could the narrator have seen the face of the listener outside, hertongue would have been paralyzed and the remainder of her story wouldnever have been told; for Anna Goddard, upon learning that she hadbeen the means of calling back to earth the woman whose existence hadshorn her of every future hope, looked--with her wild eyes anddemoniac face--as if she could be capable of any act that wouldutterly annihilate the unsuspicious companion of the man whom heruntamed soul worshiped as only such a fierce and selfish nature couldworship a human being. 

But she made no sign or sound to betray her presence, for she wascurious to hear the remainder of this strange story--to learn how herbeautiful rival had risen from disgrace and obscurity to her presentprosperity and enviable position in society. 

"Of course, " Mrs. Stewart resumed, "Mr. And Miss Livermore were boththrown into a state of great excitement at such an unexpectedmanifestation; but my words told them that there was some sad andmysterious story connected with my life and the rash deed I hadcommitted, and they resolved to still surround me with their care andprotection until I should recover--if that were possible--instead ofcommitting me to a hospital, as many would have done. 

"They bound both the clergyman and the undertaker to the strictestsecrecy; then I was immediately conveyed to Miss Livermore's own room, where that noble girl cared for me as tenderly as a mother would nurseher own child. For weeks I hovered between life and death, then slowlybegan to mend. When I was able, I related to my kind friends the storyof my wrongs, to receive only gentle sympathy and encouragement, instead of coldness and censure, such as the world usually metes outto girls who err as I had erred. As I grew stronger, and realized thatI was to live, my mother-heart began to long for its child. MissLivermore agreed with me that it would be better for me to have her, and went herself to make inquiries regarding her. But the nurse hadmoved and none of her neighbors could give any information about her, except that for a time she had charge of an infant, but after itsparents had come to claim it, she had moved away, and no one couldtell whither she had gone. 

"From this I knew that my old friend, Edith Allendale, had respondednobly to my appeal--that she had taken my child and adopted it as herown. At first I was inclined to be disappointed, and contemplatedwriting to Edith, telling her what had happened and ask her tosurrender the little one to me; but after thinking the matter overmore at length, I reasoned that it would be best to let everythingrest just as it was. I knew that my darling would be tenderly rearedin her new home; she would grow up to a happy womanhood without everknowing of the blight that rested upon her birth, or that her fatherhad been a villain, her mother a wronged and ruined woman--almost asuicide. So I decided that I would never reveal myself to my oldfriend, or undeceive her regarding my supposed fate, to disturb herpeace or her enjoyment of the child. 

"But, following the advice of my new friends, I finally wrote to myfather and mother, confessing everything to them, imploring theirforgiveness for the grief and shame I had brought upon them, andasking their counsel and wishes regarding my future. Imagine my joyand gratitude when, three weeks later, they walked in upon me and tookme at once to their hearts, ignoring all the past, as far as anycensure or condemnation were concerned, and began to plan to make myfuture as peaceful and happy as circumstances would allow. 

"They had come abroad with the intention of remaining, they told me;they would never ask me to return to my former home, where the factthat I had eloped with an artist was known, but would settle inLondon, where my father had some business interests, and where, surrounded by the multitude, our former friends would never be likelyto meet us. We lived there, a quiet, peaceful, prosperous life, Idevoting myself assiduously to study to make up for what I hadsacrificed by leaving school so early, and to keep my mind fromdwelling upon my unhappy past. 

"So the time slipped away until, five years ago, this tranquil lifewas suddenly interrupted by my father's death. Six months later mymother followed him, and I was again left alone, without a relative inthe world, the sole heiress to a half-million pounds--"

"A half-million pounds?" interposed Gerald Goddard, in a tone ofamazement. 

"Yes; but of what value is money without some one to share it withyou?" questioned Isabel Stewart, in a voice of sadness. 

Her companion passed his hand across his brow, a dazed expression uponhis face, while he was saying to himself, that, in his folly, he hadmissed an ideal existence with this brilliantly beautiful andaccomplished woman, who, in addition, was now the possessor of two anda half million dollars. 

What an idiot he had been! What an unconscionable craven, tosacrifice this pure and conscientious creature to his passion for onewho had made his life wretched by her variable moods and selfishness!

"Occasionally I heard from my child, " Mrs. Stewart resumed, after amoment of silence, while tears started into her beautiful eyes. "Myfather crossed the ocean from time to time, for the sole purpose oflearning something of her, in order to satisfy my hungry heart. Henever revealed the fact of my existence to any one, however, althoughhe managed to learn that my darling was happy, growing up to be a pureand lovely girl, as well as a great comfort to her adopted parents, and with nothing to mar her future prospects. Of course such tidingswere always gleams of great comfort to my sad and quiet life, and Itried to be satisfied with them--tried to be grateful for them. But, oh! since the death of my parents, I have yearned for her with aninexpressible heart-hunger--"

A sob of pain burst from the beautiful woman's lips and interruptedher narrative at this point. 

But she recovered herself almost immediately, and resumed:

"A year or two after I was left alone I happened to meet your formerfriend, Will Forsyth, and from him learned that I had always been yourlegal wife, and that he had sent you proofs of the fact, about a yearafter your desertion of me. 

"This astonishing intelligence animated me with a new purpose, and Iresolved that I would seek the world over for you, and demand thatproof from you. 

"I returned immediately to this country and established myself in NewYork, where, Mr. Forsyth told me, he thought you were residing. Soonafter my arrival I learned, to my dismay, that Mr. Allandale hadrecently died, leaving his family in a destitute condition. Thisknowledge changed my plans somewhat; I gave up my quest for you, forthe time, and began to search for my old friend who, for eighteenyears, had been a mother to my child. I had no intention ofinterrupting the relations between them--my only thought was toprovide for their future in a way to preclude the possibility oftheir ever knowing the meaning of the word poverty. But my utmostefforts proved unavailing--I could learn nothing of them; but Ifinally did get trace of you, and two months ago came on to Boston, determined to face you and compel you to surrender to me thecertificate of our marriage. "

"Ha! did you expect that I would yield to you?" questioned GeraldGoddard, a note of defiance in his voice. 

"Certainly--I knew I could compel you to do so. "

"Indeed? You were sanguine! By what arguments did you expect toachieve your desire? How could you even prove that I had such apaper?"

"I do not know that I could have proven that you possessed thecertificate, " quietly responded Mrs. Stewart; "but I could at leastprove that such a paper once existed, for Mr. Forsyth assured me that, if I needed assistance to establish the fact of my marriage he wouldbe ready to give it at any time. I did not think I should need to callupon him, however; I reasoned that, rather than submit to an arrestand scandal, for--bigamy, you would quietly surrender the certificateto me. "

Gerald Goddard shivered at the sound of those three ugly words, whilethe listener, behind the draperies, clinched her hands and locked herteeth to keep herself from shrieking aloud in her agony, and thusrevealing her presence. 

"I am afraid you will find that you have reckoned without your host, madam, " the man at length retorted, for he was stung to the soul withthe covert threat which had suggested the possibility that he, GeraldGoddard, the noted artist, the distinguished society man, and princelyentertainer, might be made to figure conspicuously in a criminal courtunder a charge that would brand him for all time. 

"Ah! how so?" quietly inquired his companion. 

"No power on earth would ever have compelled me to relinquish it, Mr. Forsyth's assurance to the contrary notwithstanding. "

The man paused, to see what effect this assertion would have upon hislistener; but she made no response--she simply sat quietly regardinghim, while a curious little smile hovered about her beautiful mouth. 

"You look skeptical, " Mr. Goddard continued, gazing at hersearchingly; "but let me tell you that you will find it no easy matterto prove the statements you have made--no person of common sense wouldcredit your story. "

"Indeed! But have you not already admitted that you received thecertificate of which Mr. Forsyth told me?"

"Yes; but we have been here alone, with no witness to swear to whathas passed between us. However, as I have already told you, Anna stolethe paper from me years ago, and I have never seen it since. "

"Yes, I know you told me so!"

"Do you not believe me?"

"I think my past relations with you have not served to establish afeeling of excessive confidence in you, " was the quietly ironicalresponse. 

The man flushed hotly, while anger for the moment rendered himspeechless. 

"Possibly you might be able to induce your--companion to surrender thedocument, " the lady added, after a minute of awkward silence. 

Gerald Goddard gnawed his under lip in impotent wrath at thissarcastic reference to the woman who had shared his life for so manyyears; while the wretched eavesdropper herself barely suppressed amoan of passionate anguish. 

"You have very little idea of Anna's spirit, if you imagine that shewould ever yield one jot to you, " Mr. Goddard at length retorted, hisface crimson with rage. 

Isabel Stewart arose from her chair and stood calm and cold beforehim. 

She gazed with a steady, searching look into his eyes, then remarked, with slow emphasis:

"She will never be asked to yield to me, and I am spared the necessityof suing to either of you, for--that all-important certificate ofmarriage is already in my possession. "

As we know, Gerald Goddard had feared this; he had even suggested thepossibility to Anna, on the night of the ball at Wyoming, when shetold him of the disappearance of the paper. 

Nevertheless, the announcement of the fact at this time came upon himlike a thunderbolt, for which he was utterly unprepared. 

"Zounds!" he cried, starting to his feet, as if electrified, "can youmean it? Then you stole it the night of the ball!"

"You are greatly mistaken, Mr. Goddard; it was in my possession beforethe night of the ball, " quietly returned his companion. 

"I do not believe it!" cried the man, excitedly. 

"I will prove it to you if you desire, " Mrs. Stewart remarked. 

"I defy you to do so. "

"Very well; I accept your gage. You will, however, have to excuse mefor a few moments, " and, with these few words, the stately andgraceful woman turned and disappeared within a chamber that openedfrom the room they were in. 

It would be difficult to describe the conflict of emotions that ragedin Gerald Goddard's breast during her absence. 

While he was almost beside himself with anger and chagrin, over thevery precarious position in which he found himself, he was alsotormented by intense disappointment and a sense of irritation to thinkhe had so fatally marred his life by his heartless desertion of thebeautiful woman who had just left him. 

Anna was not to be compared with her; she was perhaps more brilliantand pronounced in her style; but she lacked the charm of refinementand sweet graciousness that characterized Isabel; while, more than allelse, he lamented the loss of the princely inheritance which hadfallen to her, and which he would have shared if he had been true toher. 

Ten minutes passed, and then he was aroused from his wretchedreflections by the opening of the chamber door near him, when his latehousekeeper at Wyoming walked into the room. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

"OUR WAYS PART HERE, NEVER TO CROSS AGAIN. "

Gerald Goddard arose from his chair, and stared at the woman inunfeigned astonishment. 

"Really, Mrs. Weld! this is an unexpected meeting--I had no thought ofseeing you here, or even that you were acquainted with Mrs. Stewart, "he remarked, while he searched his recent housekeeper's face withcurious eyes. 

"I have known Isabel Haven all her life, " the woman replied, withoutappearing in the least disconcerted by the gentleman's scrutiny. 

"Can that be possible?" exclaimed her companion, but losing some ofhis color at the information. 

"Yes. "

"Then I presume you are familiar with her history. "

"I am; with every item of it, from her cradle to the present hour. "

"And were you aware of her presence in Boston when you applied foryour position at Wyoming?"

"I was. "

"Perchance it was at her instigation that you sought the place, " Mr. Goddard remarked, a sudden suspicion making him feel sick at heart. 

"Mrs. Stewart certainly knew that I was to have charge of your house, "calmly responded Mrs. Weld. 

"Then there was a plot between you--you had some deep-laid scheme inseeking the situation. "

"I do not deny the charge, sir. "

"What! do you boldly affirm it? What was your object?" demanded theman, in a towering rage, but growing deathly white at the explanationthat suggested itself to his mind. 

"I perceive that you have your suspicions, Mr. Goddard, " coollyremarked the woman, without losing an atom of her self-possession inview of his anger. 

"I have. Great Heavens! I understand it all now, " cried her companion, hoarsely. "It was you who stole that certificate from my wife's room!"

"Yes, sir; I was fortunate enough to find it, two days previous to theball. "

"You confess it!--you dare own it to me, madam! You are worse than aprofessional thief, and I will have you arrested for your crime!" andGerald Goddard was almost beside himself with passion at her cooleffrontery. 

"I hardly think you will, Mr. Goddard, " was the quiet response. "Iimagine that you would hesitate to bring such a charge against me, since such a course would necessitate explanations that might be toyou somewhat distasteful, if not mortifying. You would hardly like toreveal the character of the document, which, however, you have made amistake in asserting that I stole--"

"But you have admitted the charge, " he excitedly interposed. 

"I beg your pardon, I have not acknowledged the crime of theft--Isimply stated that I was fortunate enough to find the document inquestion. "

"It seems to me that that is a distinction without a difference, " hesneered. 

"One can hardly be accused of stealing what rightly belongs to one'sself, " Mrs. Weld composedly said. 

"What--what on earth can you mean? Explain yourself. "

"Certainly; that is exactly what I came here to do, " she answered, as, with a dexterous movement, she tore the glasses from her eyes, andswept the moles from her face, after which she snatched the cap andwig from her head, and stood before her companion revealed as IsabelStewart herself. 

"Good Heaven!" he gasped, then sank back upon his chair, staring inblank amazement at her. 

Mrs. Stewart seized this opportunity to again slip from the room, andwhen she returned, a few minutes later, her superabundance of cellulartissue (?) had disappeared and she was her own peerless self oncemore. 

She quietly resumed her seat, gravely remarking, as she did so:

"A woman who has been wronged as you have wronged me, Gerald Goddard, will risk a great deal to re-establish her good name. When I firstlearned of your whereabouts I thought I would go and boldly demandthat certificate of you. I tried to meet you in society here, but, strange to say, I failed in this attempt, for, as it happened, neitheryou nor your--Anna Correlli frequented the places where I wasentertained, although I did meet Monsieur Correlli two or three times. Then I saw that advertisement for a housekeeper to go out to Wyoming, to take charge of your house during a mid-winter frolic; and, promptedby a feeling of curiosity to learn something of your private life withthe woman who had supplanted me, I conceived the idea of applying forthe situation and thus trying to obtain that certificate by strategy. How did I know that it was you who advertised?" she interposed, as Mr. Goddard looked up inquiringly. "Because I chanced to overhear some onesay that the Goddards were going out of town for the same purpose asthat which your notice mentioned. So I disguised myself, as you haveseen, went to your office, found I was right, and secured theposition. "

"Now I know why I was so startled that day, when you dropped yourglasses in the dining-room, " groaned the wretched man. 

"Yes; I saw that you had never forgotten the eyes which you used tocall your 'windows of paradise, '" responded his companion, with quietirony, and Gerald Goddard shrank under the familiar smile as under ablow. 

"Gerald, " she went on, after a moment of painful silence, but with anote of pity pervading her musical tones, "a man can never escape thegalling consciousness of wrong that he has done until he repents ofit; even then the consequences of his sin must follow him throughlife. Yours was a nature of splendid possibilities; there was scarcelyany height to which you might not have attained, had you lived up toyour opportunities. You had wealth and position, and a physique suchas few men possess; you were finely educated, and you were a superiorartist. What have you to show for all this? what have you done withyour God-given talents? how will you answer to Him, when He calls youto account for the gifts intrusted to your care? What excuse, also, will you give for the wreck you have made of two women's lives? Youbegan all wrong; in the first place, you weakly yielded to the selfishgratification of your own pleasure; you lived upon the principle thatyou must have a good time, no matter who suffered in consequence--youmust be amused, regardless of who or what was sacrificed to subservethat end--"

"You are very hard upon me, Isabel; I have been no worse than hundredsof other men in those respects, " interposed Gerald Goddard, whosmarted under her searching questions and scathing charges as under alash. 

"Granted that you 'are no worse than hundreds of other men, '" sheretorted, with scornful emphasis, "and more's the pity. But how doesthat lessen the measure of your responsibility, pray tell me? Therewill come a time when each and every man must answer for himself. Ihave nothing to do with any one else, but I have the right to call youto account for the selfishness and sins which have had such a banefulinfluence upon my life; I have the right, by reason of all that I havesuffered at your hands--by the broken heart of my youth--the loss ofmy self-respect--the despair which so nearly drove me to crime--and, more than all else, by that terrible renunciation that deprived me ofmy child, that innocent baby whom I loved with no ordinaryaffection--I say I have the right to arraign you in the sight ofHeaven and of your own conscience, and to make one last attempt tosave you, if you will be saved. "

"What do you care--what does it matter to you now whether I am savedor lost?" the man huskily demanded, and in a tone of intensebitterness, for her solemn words had pierced his heart like adouble-edged dagger. 

"I care because you are a human being, with a soul that must liveeternally--because I am striving to serve One who has commanded us tofollow Him in seeking to save that which is lost, " the fair womangravely replied. "Look at yourself, Gerald--your inner self, I mean. Outwardly you are a specimen of God's noblest handiwork. How does yourspiritual self compare with your physical frame?--has it attained thesame perfection? No; it has become so dwarfed and misshapen by yourindulgence in sin and vice--so hardened by yielding to so-called'pleasure, ' your intellect so warped, your talents so misapplied thateven your Maker would scarcely recognize the being that He Himself hadbrought into existence. You are forty-nine years old, Gerald--you mayhave ten, twenty, even thirty more to live. How will you spend them?Will you go on as you have been living for almost half a century, oris there still a germ of good within you that you will have strengthand resolution to develop, as far as may be, toward that perfectsymmetry which God desires every human soul to attain? Think!--choose!Make this hour the turning point in your career; go back to yourpainting, retrieve your skill, and work to some purpose and for someworthy object. If you do not need the money such work will bring, foryour own support, use it for the good of others--of those unfortunateones, perchance, whose lives have been blighted, as mine was blighted, by those 'hundreds of other men' like you. "

As the beautiful woman concluded her earnest appeal, theconscience-smitten man dropped his head upon the table beside which hesat, and groaned aloud. 

For the first time in his life he saw himself as he was, and loathedhimself, his past life, and all the alluring influences that hadconspired to decoy him into the downward path which he had trodden. 

"I will! I will! Oh, Isabel, forgive and help me, " he pleaded, in avoice thrilling with despair. 

"I help you?" she repeated, in an inquiring tone, in which there was anote of surprise. 

"Yes, with your sweet counsel, your pure example and influence. "

"I do not understand you, quite, " she responded, her lovely colorwaning as a suspicion of his meaning began to dawn upon her. 

He raised his face, which was drawn and haggard from the remorse hewas suffering, and looked appealingly into hers. But, as he met thegaze of her pure, grave eyes, a flush of shame mounted to his brow ashe realized how despicable he must appear to her in now suing sohumbly for what he had once trampled under foot as worthless. 

Yet an unspeakable yearning to regain her love had taken possession ofhim, and every other emotion was, for the moment, surmounted by that. 

"I mean, come back to me! try to love me again! and let me, under theinfluence of your sweet presence, your precepts and noble example, strive to become the man you have described, and that, at last, my ownheart yearns to be. "

His plea was like the cry of a despairing soul, who realized, all toolate, the fatal depths of the pit into which he had voluntarilyplunged. 

Isabel Stewart saw this, and pitied him, as she would have pitied anyother human being who had become so lost to all honor and virtue; buthis suggestion, his appeal that she would go back to him, live withhim, associate with him from day to day, was so repulsive to her thatshe could not quite repress her aversion, and a slight shiver ran overher frame, so chilling that all her color faded, even from her lips;and Gerald Goddard, seeing it, realized the hopelessness of his desireeven before she could command herself sufficiently to answer him. 

"That would not be possible, Gerald, " she finally replied. "Truthcompels me to tell you plainly that whatever affection I may once haveentertained for you has become an emotion of the past; it was killedoutright when I believed myself a deserted outcast in Rome. I shoulddo sinful violence to my own heart and nature if I should heed yourrequest, and also become but a galling reproach to you, rather than ahelp. "

"Then you repudiate me utterly, in spite of the fact that the law yetbinds us to each other? I am no more to you than any other humanbeing?" groaned the humbled man. 

"Only in the sense that through you I have keenly suffered, " shegravely returned. 

"Then there is no hope for me, " he whispered, hoarsely, as his headsank heavily upon his breast. 

"You are mistaken, Gerald, " his companion responded, with sweetsolemnity; "there is every hope for you--the same hope and promisethat our Master held out to the woman whom the Pharisees were about tostone to death when he interfered to save her. I presume to cast norevengeful 'stone' at you. I do not arrogantly condemn you. I simplysay as he said, 'Go and sin no more. '"

"Oh, Isabel, have mercy! With you to aid me, I could climb to almostany height, " cried the broken-spirited man, throwing out his hands indespairing appeal. 

"I am more merciful in my rejection of your proposal than I couldpossibly be in acceding to it, " she answered. "You broke every moraltie and obligation that bound me to you when you left me and my childto amuse yourself with another. Legally, I suppose, I am still yourwife, but I can never recognize the bond; henceforth, I can be nothingbut a stranger to you, though I wish you no ill, and would not lift myhand against you in any way--"

"Do you mean by that that you would not even bring mortification orscandal upon me by seeking to publicly prove the legality of ourmarriage?" Mr. Goddard interposed, in a tone of surprise. 

"Yes, I mean just that. Since the certificate is in my possession, andI have the power to vindicate myself, in case any question regardingthe matter arises in the future, I am content. "

"But I thought--I supposed--Will you not even use it to obtain adivorce from me?" stammered the man, who suddenly remembered a certainrumor regarding a distinguished gentleman's devotion to the beautifulMrs. Stewart. 

"No; death alone can break the tie that binds me to you, " shereturned, her lovely lips contracting slightly with pain. 

"What! Have you no wish to be free?" he questioned, regarding her withastonishment. 

"Yes, I would be very glad to feel that no fetters bound me, " sheanswered, with clouded eyes; "but I vowed to be true as long as lifeshould last, and I will never break my word. "

"True!" repeated her companion, bitterly. 

A flush of indignation mounted to the beautiful woman's brow at thereproach implied in his word and tone. 

But she controlled the impulse to make an equally scathing retort, andremarked, with a quiet irony that was tenfold more effective. 

"Well, if that word offends you, I will qualify it so far as to saythat, at least, I have never dishonored my marriage vows; I never willdishonor them. "

Gerald Goddard threw out his hands with a gesture of torture, and fora moment he became deathly white, showing how keenly his companion'sarrow had pierced his conscience. 

There was a painful silence of several moments, and then he inquired, in constrained tones:

"What, then, is my duty? What relations must I henceforth sustaintoward--Anna?"

"I cannot be conscience for you, Gerald, " said Isabel Stewart, coldly;"at least, I could offer no suggestion regarding such a matter asthat. I can only live out my own life as my heart and judgment of whatis right and wrong approve; but if you have no scruples on thatscore--if you desire to institute proceedings for a divorce, in orderto repair, as far as may be, the wrong you have also done AnnaCorrelli--I shall lay no obstacle in your way. "

She arose as she ceased speaking, thus intimating that she desired theinterview to terminate. 

"And that is all you have to say to me? Oh, Isabel!" Gerald Goddardgasped, and realizing how regally beautiful she had become, howinfinitely superior, physically and morally, spiritually andintellectually, she was to the woman for whose sake he had trampledher in the dust. And the fact was forced upon him that she was one tobe worshiped for her sweet graciousness and purity of character--to bereverenced for her innate nobility and stanch adherence to principle, and to be exultantly proud of, could he have had the right to be--as aqueen among women. 

"That is all, " she replied, with slow thoughtfulness, "unless, as awoman who is deeply interested in the moral advancement of humanity ingeneral, I urge you once more to make your future better than yourpast has been, that thus the world may be benefited, in ever so slighta measure, because you have lived. As for you and me, our ways parthere, never to cross again, I trust; for, while I have ceased togrieve over the blighted hopes of my youth, it would be painful to bereminded of my early mistakes. "

"Part--forever? I do not feel that I can have it so, " said GeraldGoddard, with white lips, "for--I love you at this moment a thousandtimes more than I ever--"

"Stop!" Isabel Stewart firmly commanded. "Such an avowal from you atthis time is but an added insult to me, as well as a cowardly wrongagainst her who, in the eyes of the world, at least, has sustained therelationship of wife to you for many years. "

The head of the proud man dropped before her with an air of humilityentirely foreign to the "distinguished" Gerald Goddard whom the worldknew; but, though crushed by a sense of shame and grief, he could butown to himself that her condemnation was just, and the faint hope thathad sprung up in his heart died, then and there, its tragic death. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

"I HATE YOU WITH ALL THE STRENGTH OF MY ITALIAN BLOOD. "

Isabel Stewart felt that she could not bear the painful interview anylonger, and was about to touch the electric button to summon herservant to show her visitor out, when he stayed her with a gesture ofappeal. 

"One moment more, Isabel, I implore, " he exclaimed; "then I will go, never to trouble you again. "

Her beautiful hand dropped by her side, and she turned again to himwith a patient, inquiring glance. 

"You have spoken of our--child, " the man went on, eagerly, though aflush of shame dyed his face as he gave utterance to the pronoundenoting mutual possession. "Do you intend to continue your search forher?"

"Certainly; that will now be the one aim of my life. I could nevertake another moment of comfort knowing that my old friend and my childwere destitute, as I have been led to believe they are. "

"And if--you find her--shall--you tell her--your history?" falteredGerald Goddard, as he nervously moistened his dry lips. 

His companion bent her head in thought for a moment. At length sheremarked:

"I shall, of course, be governed somewhat by circumstances in such amatter; if I find Edith still in ignorance of the fact that she is anadopted daughter, I think I shall never undeceive her, but strive to becontent with such love as she can give me, as her mother's friend. If, on the other hand, I find that she has learned the truth--especially ifshe should happen to be alone in the world--I shall take her into myarms and tell her the whole story of my life, beg her to share myfuture, and let me try to win as much as possible of her love. "

"If you should find her, pray, pray do not teach her to regard me as amonster of all that is evil, " pleaded her companion, in a tone ofagony that was pitiful. "Ah, Isabel, I believe I should have been abetter man if I could have had the love of little children thrownabout me as a safeguard. "

Isabel Stewart's red lips curled with momentary scorn at this attemptto shift the responsibility of his wasted and misguided life upon anyone or anything rather than himself. 

"What a pity, then, that you did not realize the fact before youdiscarded the unhappy young mother and her innocent babe, so manyyears ago, " she remarked, in a tone that pierced his heart like aknife. 

"I did go back to Rome for the child--I did try to find her after--Ihad heard that--that you were gone, " he faltered. "I was told that theinfant had doubtless perished with you, though its body was neverfound; but I have mourned her--I have yearned for her all my life. "

"And do you imagine, even if you should meet her some time in thefuture, that she would reciprocate this affection which, strangelyenough, you manifest at this late day?"

"Perhaps not, if you should meet her first and tell her your story, "the man returned, with a heavy sigh. 

"Which I shall assuredly do, " said Mrs. Stewart, resolutely; "that is, if, as I said before, I find her alone in the world; that muchjustification is my due--my child shall know the truth; then she shallbe allowed to act according to the dictates of her own heart andjudgment, regarding her future relationship toward both of us. I feelsure that she has been most carefully reared--that my old friend Edithwould instill only precepts of truth and purity in her mind, and myheart tells me that she would be likely to shrink from one who hadwronged her mother as you have wronged me. "

"I see; you will keep her from me if you can, " said Mr. Goddard, withintense bitterness. 

"I am free to confess that I should prefer you never to meet, " saidMrs. Stewart, a look of pain sweeping over her beautiful face; "butEdith is twenty years of age, if she is living; and if, after learningmy history, she desires to recognize the relationship between herselfand you, I can, of course, but submit to her wish. "

"It is very evident to me that you will teach her to hate her father, "was the sullen retort. 

"Her father?" the term was repeated with infinite scorn. "Pray in whatrespect have you shown yourself worthy to be so regarded?--you whoeven denied her legitimate birth, and turned your back upon her, totally indifferent to whether she starved or not. "

"How hard you are upon me, Isabel!"

"I have told you only facts. "

"I know--I know; but have some pity for me now, since, at last, I havecome to my senses; for in my heart I have an insatiable longing forthis daughter who, if she is living, must embody some of the virtuesof her mother, who--God help me!--is lost, lost to me forever!"

The man's voice died away in a hoarse whisper, while a heart-brokensob burst from his lips. 

"Go, Gerald, " said Mrs. Stewart, in a low, but not unkindly imperativetone; "it is better that this interview should terminate. The past ispast--nothing can change it; but the future will be what we make it. Go, and if I ever hear from you again, let me know that your presentcontrition has culminated in a better life. "

She turned abruptly from him and disappeared within her chamber, quietly shutting the door after her, while Gerald Goddard arose to"go" as he had been bidden. 

As, with tottering gait and a pale, despairing face, he crossed theroom and parted the draperies between the two pretty parlors, he foundhimself suddenly confronted by a woman so wan and haggard that, for aninstant, he failed to recognize her. 

"Idiot!" hissed Anna Correlli, through her pallid, tightly-drawn lips;"traitor! coward! viper!"

She was forced to pause simply because she was exhausted from thevenom which she had expended in the utterance of those fourexpletives. 

Then she sank, weak and faint, upon a chair, but with her eyesglittering like points of flame, fastened in a look of malignanthatred upon the astonished man. 

"Anna! how came you here?--how long have you been here?" he finallyfound voice to say. 

"Long enough to learn of the contemptible perfidy and meanness of theman whom, for twenty years, I have trusted, " she panted, but the tonewas so hollow he never would have known who was speaking had he notseen her. 

He opened his dry lips to make some reply; but no sound came fromthem. 

He put out his hand to support himself by the back of her chair, forall his strength and sense seemed on the point of failing him; whilefor the moment he felt as if he could almost have been grateful to anyone who would slay him where he stood, and thus put him out of hismisery--benumb his sense of degradation and the remorse which heexperienced for his wasted life, and the wrongs of which he had beenguilty. 

But, by a powerful effort, he soon mastered himself, for he wasanxious to escape from the house before the presence of his wifeshould be discovered. 

"Come, Anna, " he said; "let us go home, where we can talk over thismatter by ourselves, without the fear of being overheard. "

He attempted to assist her to rise, but she shrank away from him witha gesture of aversion, at the same time flashing a look up at him thatalmost seemed to curdle his blood, and sent a shudder of dread overhim. 

"Do not dare to touch me!" she cried, hoarsely. "Go--call a carriage;I am not able to walk. Go; I will follow you. "

Without a word, he turned to obey her, and passed quickly out of thesuite without encountering any one, she following, but with a gait sounsteady that any one watching her would have been tempted to believeher under the influence of some intoxicant. 

Mr. Goddard found a carriage standing near the entrance to the hotel, and they were soon on their way home. 

Not a word was spoken by either during the ride, and it would havebeen impossible to have found two more utterly wretched people in allthat great city. 

Upon entering their house, they found Emil Correlli in a statebordering on frenzy, occasioned by the escape of Edith, and thiscircumstance served for a few moments to distract their thoughts fromtheir own troubles. 

Mr. Goddard was intensely relieved by the intelligence, and plainlybetrayed it in his manner. 

When angrily called to account for it by his brother-in-law, he atonce replied, with an air of reckless defiance:

"Yes, I am glad of it--I would even have helped the girl to get away;indeed, I was planning to do so, for such a dastardly fraud as youperpetrated upon her should never be allowed to prosper. "

He was rewarded for this speech, so loyal to Edith, only by an angryoath, to which, however, he paid no attention. 

Strangely enough, Anna Correlli, after the first emotion of surpriseand dismay had passed, paid no heed to the exciting conversation; shehad sunk into a chair by the window, where she sat pale and silent, and absolutely motionless, save for the wild restlessness of her fieryblack eyes. 

Mr. Goddard, finding the atmosphere so disagreeable, finally left theroom, and, mounting the stairs, shut himself in his own chamber, whilethe enraged lover dashed out of the house to the nearest telegraphoffice to send the message that caused the policeman to interceptEdith upon her arrival in New York. 

A few moments later, Mrs. Goddard--as we will, from courtesy, stillcall her--crept wearily up to her room, where, tottering to a couch, she threw herself prone upon her face, moaning and shivering with theagony she could no longer control. 

The blow, which for twenty years she had been dreading, had fallen atlast; but it was far more crushing and bitter than she had everdreamed it could be. 

She had come at last to the dregs of the cup which once had seemed sosweet and alluring to her senses, and they had poisoned her soul untodeath. 

She knew that never again while she lived would she be able to facethe world and hide her misery beneath a mask of smiles; and thebitterest drop of all, the sharpest thorn in her lacerated heart, wasthe fact that the little insignificant girl who had once been herhated rival in Rome, should have developed into the peerlesslybeautiful woman, whom all men admired and reverenced, and whom GeraldGoddard now idolized. 

An hour passed, during which she lay where she had fallen and almostbenumbed by her misery. 

Then there came a knock upon her door, which was immediately opened, and Mr. Goddard entered the room. 

He was still very pale, but grave and self-contained. 

The woman started to a sitting posture, exclaiming, in an unnaturalvoice:

"What do you want here?"

"I have come, Anna, to talk over with you the events of themorning--to ask you to try to control yourself, and look at ourpeculiar situation with calmness and practical common sense, " hecalmly replied. 

"Well?" was all the response vouchsafed, as he paused an instant. 

"I have not come to offer any excuses for myself, or for what youoverheard this morning, " he thoughtfully resumed; "indeed, I have noneto offer--my whole life, I own, has, as Isabel rightly said, been afailure thus far, and no one save myself is to blame for the fact. Donot sneer, Anna, " he interposed, as her lips curled back from herdazzling teeth, which he saw were tightly locked with the effort shewas making at self-control. "I have been thoroughly humiliated forthe first time in my life--I have been made to see myself as I am, andI have reached a point where I am willing to make an effort to atone, as far as may be, for some of the wrongs of which I have been guilty. Will you help me, Anna?"

Again he paused, but this time his companion did not deign to availherself of the opportunity to reply, if, indeed, she was able to doso. 

She had not once removed her glittering eyes from his face, and hersteady, inscrutable look gave him an uncanny sensation that wasanything but agreeable. 

"I have come to propose that we avail ourselves of the only remedythat seems practicable to relieve our peculiar situation, " hecontinued, seeing she was waiting for him to go on. "I will apply tohave the tie which binds me to Isabel annulled, with all possiblesecrecy--it can be done in the West without any notoriety; then I willmake you my legal wife, as you have so often asked me to do, and wewill go abroad again, where we will try to live out the remainder ofour lives to some better purpose than we have done heretofore. I askyou again, will you try to help me? It is not going to be an easything at first; but if each will try, for the sake of the other, Ibelieve we can yet attain comparative content, if not positivehappiness. "

"Content! happiness!"

The words were hissed out with a fierceness of passion that startledhim, and caused him to regard her anxiously. 

"Happiness!" she repeated. "Ha! ha! What mockery in the sound of thatword from your lips, after what has occurred to-day!"

"I know that you have cause to be both grieved and angry, Anna, " saidGerald Goddard, humbly; "but let us both put the past behind us--letus wipe out all old scores, and from this day begin a new life. "

"'Begin a new life' upon a heap of ashes, without one spark among themto ignite the smallest flame!" was the mocking rejoinder. Then, with aburst of agony, she continued: "Oh, God! if you had taken a daggerand stabbed me to death in that room to-day, you could not have slainme more effectually than by the words you have uttered. Begin a newlife with you, after your confessions, your pleadings andprotestations to Isabel Stewart? Heaven! Never! I hate you! hate you;hate you! with all the strength of my Italian blood, and warnyou--beware! And now, begone!"

The woman looked like a maniac as she poured this wild torrent uponhim, and the man saw that she was in no mood to be reasoned with or toconsider any subject; that it would be wiser to wait until thefierceness of her anger had spent itself. 

He had broached the matter of their future relations, thus giving hersomething to think of, and now he would leave her to meditate upon itby herself; perhaps, in a few days, she would be in a more reasonableframe of mind, and look at the subject from a different point of view. 

"Very well, Anna, " he said, as he arose, "I will obey you. I do notpretend to claim that I have not given you cause to feel aggrieved inmany respects; but, as I have already said, that is past. I simply askyou to do what I also will do--put all the old life behind us, andbegin over again. I realize that we cannot discuss the question to anypurpose now--we are both too wrought up to think or talk calmly, so Iwill leave you to rest, and we will speak of this at another time. CanI do anything for you before I go?--or perhaps you would like yourmaid sent to you?"

"No, " she said, briefly, and not once having removed her wild eyesfrom his face while he was speaking. 

He bowed, and passed out of the room, softly shutting the door afterhim, then walked slowly down the hall to his own apartment. 

The moment he was gone Anna Goddard sprang like a cat to her feet. 

Going to her writing-desk, she dashed off a few lines, which shehastily folded and slipped into an envelope, which she sealed andaddressed. 

She then touched the electric button above her desk to summon hermaid, after which she sat motionless with the missive clasped in herhands until the girl appeared. 

"Dress yourself for the street, Mary, and take this note to Mr. Clayton's office. Be quick about it, for it is a matter ofimportance, " she commanded, while she forced herself to speak withoutward calmness. 

But Mary regarded her mistress with wonder, for, in all her"tantrums, " as she termed them, she had never seen the awful look uponher face which was stamped upon it at that moment. 

But she took the note without comment, and hastened away upon hererrand, while Mrs. Goddard, throwing herself back in her chair, satthere waiting with an air of expectation that betrayed she was lookingfor the appearance of some one. 

Half an hour later a gentleman was admitted to the house, and wasshown directly up to my lady's boudoir. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

RECORDS SOME STARTLING DEVELOPMENTS. 

The gentleman caller referred to in the last chapter was closeted withMrs. Goddard for fully two hours, when he quietly left the house. 

A few moments later, however, he returned, accompanied by two othermen--clerks from a neighboring drug store--whom he admitted with alatch-key, and then conducted them up to Mrs. Goddard's boudoir. 

The strangers did not remain long; whatever their errand, it was soonfinished, and they departed as silently as they had come. 

Mr. Clayton remained some time longer, conversing with the mistress ofthe house, but their business being finally concluded, he also wentaway, bearing a package of papers with him. 

Emil Correlli returned just in season for dinner, which, however, hewas obliged to partake of alone, as Mr. And Mrs. Goddard did not maketheir appearance at the table. 

The young man paid slight heed to ceremony, but after eating a hastymeal, sought his sister and informed her that he was going to startfor New York on the late evening train. 

The woman gave him one wild, startled glance, and seemed strangelyagitated for a moment over his announcement. 

He could not fail to notice her emotion, and that she was excessivelypale. 

"You look like a ghost, Anna, " he remarked, as he searched her facewith some anxiety. "What is the matter with you? I fear you are goingto be ill. "

"I am ill, " she said, in a hoarse, unnatural tone. 

"Then let me call your physician, " said her brother, eagerly. "I amgoing out immediately, and will leave a message for him. "

"No, no, " she nervously replied; then with a hollow laugh that smoteheavily upon her companion's heart, she added: "My case is beyond thereach of Dr. Hunt or any other physician. "

"Anna, have you been quarreling with Gerald again?"

"Yes, " was the brief response. 

"Well, of course I can understand that such matters are beyond theskill of any physician, " said the young man, with a half-impatientshrug of his shoulders; "neither have I any business to interferebetween you, " he added; "but my advice would be to make it up as soonas possible, and then try to live peaceably in the future. I do notlike to leave you looking so white and miserable, but I must go. Takegood care of yourself, and I shall hope to find you better and happierwhen I return. "

He bent down to give her a farewell caress, and was amazed by thepassion she manifested in returning it. 

She threw her arms around his neck and held him in a convulsiveembrace, while she quivered from head to foot with repressed emotion. 

She did not utter one word of farewell, but a wild sob burst from her;then, as if she could bear no more, she pushed him from her and rushedinto her chamber, shutting and locking the door behind her. 

Emil Correlli left the boudoir, a puzzled expression on his handsomeface; for, although his sister was subject to strange attacks, he hadnever seen her like this before. 

"Anna will come to grief some day with that cursed temper of hers, " hemuttered, as he went to his room to pack his portmanteau, but he wastoo intent upon his own affairs to dwell long upon even the trouble ofhis sister, and a couple of hours later was on his way to New York tobegin his search for his runaway bride. 

The next morning Mrs. Goddard was "too ill to rise, " she told hermaid, when she came at the usual hour to her door. She would not admither, but sent word to her husband that she could not join him atbreakfast. 

He went up later to see if she would allow him to call a physician forher, but she would not see him, simply telling him she "would do wellenough without advice--all she needed was rest, and she did not wishto be disturbed by any one until she rang. "

Feeling deeply disappointed and depressed by her unusual obstinacy, the wretched man went downstairs and shut himself into the library, where he remained all day, while there was such an atmosphere ofloneliness and desolation about the house that even the servantsappeared to feel it, and went about with solemn faces and almoststealthy steps. 

Could any one have looked behind those closed doors he could not havefailed to have experienced a feeling of pity for the man; for if evera human being went down into the valley of humiliation, Gerald Goddardsounded its uttermost depths, while he battled alone with all thepowers of evil that beset his soul. 

When night came he was utterly exhausted, and sought his couch, looking at least ten years older than he had appeared forty-eighthours previous. 

He slept heavily and dreamlessly, and did not awake till late, whenan imperative knock upon the door and a voice, calling in distress, caused him to spring suddenly from his bed, and impressed him with asense of impending evil. 

"What is it, Mary?" he inquired, upon recognizing the voice of hiswife's maid. 

"Oh, sir! come--come to madam; she is very ill!" cried the girl, in afrightened tone. 

"I will be there immediately. Send James for the doctor, and then goback to her, " commanded her master, as he hurriedly began to dress. 

Five minutes later he was in his wife's room, to find her lying uponthe lounge, just as he had seen her thirty-six hours previous. 

It was evident that she had not been in bed at all for two nights, forshe still had on the same dress that she had worn at the Copley SquareHotel. 

But the shadow of death was on her white face; her eyes were glazed, and though only partially closed, it was evident that she saw nothing. 

She was still breathing, but faintly and irregularly. Her hands wereicy cold, and at the base of the nails there was the unmistakablepurple tint that indicated approaching dissolution. 

Gerald Goddard was shocked beyond measure to find her thus, but hearose to the occasion. 

With his own hands and the assistance of the maid, he removed herclothing, then wrapped her in blankets and put her in bed, when hecalled for hot water bottles to place around her, hoping thus byartificial heat to quicken the sluggish circulation and her failingpulses. 

But apparently there was no change in her, and when the physician cameand made his examination, he told them plainly that "no effort couldavail; it was a case of sudden heart failure, and the end was but aquestion of moments. "

Mr. Goddard was horrified and stricken with remorse at the hopelessverdict, for it seemed to him that he was in a measure accountable forthe untimely shock which was fast depriving of life this woman whohad loved him so passionately, though unwisely. 

He put his lips to her ear and called her by name. 

"Anna! Anna! You must try to arouse yourself, " he cried, in a voice ofagony. 

At first the appeal seemed to produce no effect, but after severalattempts he thought he detected a gleam of intelligence in the almostsightless eyes, while the cold fingers resting on his hand made aneffort to close over his. 

These slight signs convinced him that though she was past the power ofspeech, she yet knew him and clung to him, in spite of the clutchwhich the relentless enemy of all mankind had laid upon her. 

"Doctor, she knows me!" he exclaimed. "Pray give her some stimulant toarouse her dormant faculties, if only for a moment. "

"I fear it will be of no use, " the physician replied, "but I willtry. "

He hurriedly prepared and administered a powerful restorative; thenthey waited with breathless interest for several moments for some signof improvement. 

It came at last; she began to breathe a trifle more regularly; the setfeatures became a little less rigid, and the pulse a shade stronger, until finally the white lids were lifted and the dying woman turnedher eyes with a pitiful expression of appeal upon the man whom, evenin death, she still adored. 

"Leave us alone!" commanded Gerald Goddard, in a hoarse whisper, andphysician and servants stole noiselessly from the room. 

"Anna, you know me--you understand what I am saying?" the wretched manthen questioned. 

A slight pressure from the cold fingers was the only reply. 

"You know that you are dying?" he pursued. 

Again that faint sign of assent. 

"Then, dear, let us be at peace before you go, " he pleaded, gently. "My soul bows in humiliation and remorse before you; for years I havewronged you. I wronged you in those first days in Rome. I have noexcuse to offer. I simply tell you that my spirit is crushed within meas I look back and realize all that I am accountable for. I would havebeen glad to atone, as far as was in my power, could you have lived toshare my future. Give me some sign of forgiveness to tell me that youretract those last bitter words of hate--to let me feel that in thisfinal moment we part in peace. "

At his pleading a look of agony dawned in the woman's failing eyes--alook so pitiful in its yearning and despair that the strong man brokedown and sobbed from sorrow and contrition; but the sign he had beggedfor was not given. 

"Oh, Anna! pray show me, in some way, that you will not die hatingme, " he pleaded. "Forgive--oh, forgive!"

At those last words those almost palsied fingers closed convulsivelyover his; the look of agony in those dusky orbs was superseded by oneof adoration and tenderness; a faint expression of something likepeace crept into the tense lines about the drawn mouth, and therepentant watcher knew that she would not go out into the greatunknown bearing in her heart a relentless hatred against him. 

That effort was the last flicker of the expiring flame, for the whitelids drooped over the dark eyes; the cold fingers relaxed their hold, and Gerald Goddard knew the end had almost come. 

He touched the bell, and the physician instantly re-entered the room. 

"It is almost over, " he remarked, as he went to the bedside, and hispracticed fingers sought her pulse. 

Even as he spoke her breast heaved once--then again, and all wasstill. 

Who shall describe the misery that surged over Gerald Goddard's soulas he looked upon the still form and realized that the grandlybeautiful woman, who for twenty years had reigned over his home, wasno more--that never again would he hear her voice, either in words offond adoration or in passionate anger; never see her again, arrayed inthe costly apparel and gleaming jewels which she so loved, minglingwith the gay people of the world, or graciously entertaining guests inher own house?

He felt almost like a murderer; for, in spite of Dr. Hunt's verdictthat she had died of "sudden heart failure, " he feared that the proudwoman had been so crushed by what she had overheard in IsabelStewart's apartments that she had voluntarily ended her life. 

It was only a dim suspicion--a vague impression, for there was not theslightest evidence of anything of the kind, and he would never dare togive voice to it to any human being; nevertheless, it pressed heavilyupon his soul with a sense of guilt that was almost intolerable. 

A message was immediately sent flying over the wires to New York toinform Emil Correlli of the sad news, and eight hours later he wasback in Boston crushed for the time by the loss of the sister for whomhe entertained perhaps the purest love of which his selfish heart wascapable of experiencing. 

We will not dwell upon the harrowing events of the next few days. 

Suffice it to say that society, or that portion of it that had knownthe brilliant Mrs. Goddard, was greatly shocked by the sudden death ofone of its "brightest ornaments, " and gracefully mourned her bycovering her costly casket with choicest flowers; then closed up itsranks and went its way, trying to forget the pale charger which theyknew would come again and again upon his grim errand. 

The day following Anna Correlli's interment in Forest Hill Cemetery, Mr. Goddard and his brother-in-law were waited upon by the well-knownlawyer, Arthur Clayton, who informed them that he had an importantcommunication to make to them. 

"Two days previous to her death I received this note from Mrs. Goddard, " he remarked, at the same time handing a daintily perfumedmissive to the elder gentleman. "In it you will observe that she asksme to come to her immediately. I obeyed her, and found her lookingvery ill, and seemingly greatly distressed in body and mind. She toldme she was impressed that she had not long to live--that she had anaffection of the heart that warned her to put her affairs in order. She desired me to draw up a will at once, according to herinstructions, and have it signed and witnessed before I left thehouse. I did so, calling in at her request two witnesses from aneighboring drug store, after which she gave the will into my keeping, to be retained until her death. This is the document, gentlemen, " heremarked, in conclusion, "and here, also, is another communication, which she wrote herself and directed me to hand to you, sir. "

He arose and passed both the will and the letter to Mr. Goddard, whohad seemed greatly agitated while he was speaking. 

He simply took the letter, remarking:

"Since you are already acquainted with the contents of the will, sir, will you kindly read it aloud in our presence?"

Mr. Clayton flushed slightly as he bowed acquiescence. 

The document proved to be very short and to the point, and bequeathedeverything that the woman had possessed--"excepting what the law wouldallow as Gerald Goddard's right"--to her beloved brother, EmilCorrelli, who was requested to pay the servants certain amounts whichshe named. 

That was all, and Mr. Goddard knew that in the heat of her angeragainst him she had made this rash disposition of her property--as shehad the right to do, since it had all been settled upon her--to berevenged upon him by leaving him entirely dependent upon his ownresources. 

At first he experienced a severe shock at her act, for the thought ofpoverty was anything but agreeable to him. 

He had lived a life of idleness and pleasure for so many years that itwould not be an easy matter for him to give up the many luxuries towhich he had been accustomed without a thought or care concerningtheir cost. 

But after the first feeling of dismay had passed, a sense of relieftook possession of him; for, with his suspicions regarding the causeof Anna's death, he knew that he could never have known one moment ofcomfort in living upon her fortune, even had she left it unreservedlyto him rather than to her brother. 

Emil Correlli was made sole executor of the estate; and, as there wasnothing further for Mr. Clayton to do after reading the will, hequietly took his departure leaving the two men to discuss it at theirleisure. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

"YOU WILL VACATE THESE PREMISES AT YOUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE. "

"Well, Gerald, I must confess this is rather tough on you!" MonsieurCorrelli remarked, in a voice of undisguised astonishment, as soon asthe lawyer disappeared. "I call it downright shabby of Anna to haveleft you so in the lurch. "

"It does not matter, " returned the elder man, but somewhat coldly;for, despite his feeling of relief over the disposition of herproperty, he experienced a twinge of jealousy toward the morefortunate heir, whose pity was excessively galling to him under thecircumstances. 

Although the two men had quarreled just before Monsieur Correlli'sdeparture for New York, all ill-feeling had been ignored in view oftheir common loss and sorrow, and each had conducted himself with acourteous bearing toward the other during the last few days. 

"What in the world do you suppose possessed her to make such a will?"the young man inquired, while he searched his companion's face withkeen scrutiny. "And how strange that she should have imagined all ofa sudden that she was going to die, and so put her affairs in order!"

Mr. Goddard saw that he had no suspicion of the real state of things, and he had no intention of betraying any secrets if he could avoiddoing so. 

No one--not even her own brother--should ever know that Anna had notbeen his wife. He would do what he could to shield her memory fromevery reproach, and no one should ever dream that--he could not divesthimself of the suspicion--she had died willfully. 

Therefore, he replied with apparent frankness:

"I think I can explain why she did so. On the day of our return fromWyoming, Anna and I had a more serious quarrel than usual; I never sawher so angry as she was at that time; she even went so far as to tellme that she hated me; and so, I presume, in the heat of her anger, sheresolved to cut me off with the proverbial shilling to be revengedupon me. "

"Well, she has done so with a vengeance, " muttered his brother-in-law. 

"I went to her afterward and tried to make it up, " his companionresumed, "but she would have nothing to say to me. She was lookingvery ill, also; and when the next morning she sent me word that shewas not able to join me at breakfast, I went again to her door andbegged her to allow me to send for Dr. Hunt, but she would not evenadmit me. "

"What was this quarrel about?"

"Oh, almost all our quarrels have been about a certain document whichhas long been a bone of contention between us, and this one was anoutgrowth from the same subject. "

"Was that document a certificate of marriage?" craftily inquired EmilCorrelli. 

"Yes. "

"Gerald, were you ever really married to Anna?" demanded the youngman, bending toward him with an eager look. 

His companion flushed hotly at the question, and yet it assured himthat he did not really know just what relations his sister hadsustained toward him. 

"Isn't that a very singular question, Emil?" he inquired, with a cooldignity that was very effective. "What led you to ask it?"

"Something that Anna herself once said to me suggested the thought, "Emil replied. "I know, of course, the circumstances of your earlyattachment--that for her you left another woman whom you had taken toRome. I once asked Anna the same question, but she would not answer medirectly--she evaded it in a way to confirm my suspicions rather thanto allay them. And now this will--it seems very strange that sheshould have made it if--"

"Pray, Emil, do not distress yourself over anything so absurd, " coldlyinterposed Gerald Goddard, but with almost hueless lips. "However, ifyou continue to entertain doubts upon the subject, you have but to goto the Church of the ---- the next time you visit Rome, ask to see therecords for the year 18--, and you will find the marriage of yoursister duly recorded there. "

"I beg your pardon, " apologized the doubter, now fully reassured bythe above shrewdly fashioned answer, "but Anna was always soinfernally jealous of you, and made herself so wretched over the fearof losing your affection, that I could think of no other reason forher foolishness. Now, about this will, " he added, hastily changing thesubject and referring to the document. "I don't feel quite right tohave all Anna's fortune, in addition to my own, and no doubt the poorgirl would have repented of her rash act if she could have lived longenough to get over her anger and realize what she was doing. I don'tneed the money, and, Gerald, I am willing to make over something toyou, especially as I happen to know that you have sunk the most ofyour money in unfortunate speculations, " the young man concluded, Mr. Goddard's sad, white face appealing to his generosity in spite oftheir recent difference. 

"Thank you, Emil, " he quietly replied; "but I cannot accept your verykind offer. Since it was Anna's wish that you should have herproperty, I prefer that the will should stand exactly as she made it. I cannot take a dollar of the money--not even what 'the law wouldallow' in view of our relations to each other. "

Those last words were uttered in a tone of peculiar bitterness thatcaused Monsieur Correlli to regard him curiously. 

"Pray do not take it to heart like that, old boy, " he said, kindly, after a moment, "and let me persuade you to accept at least a fewthousands. "

"Thank you, but I cannot. Please do not press the matter, for mydecision is unalterable. "

"But how the deuce are you going to get along?" questioned the youngman. 

"I shall manage very well, " was the grave rejoinder. "I have a fewhundreds which will suffice for my present needs, and, if my handshave not lost their cunning, I can abundantly provide for my future bymeans of my profession. By the way, what are your own plans?--if I mayinquire, " he concluded, to change the subject. 

The young man paled at the question, and an angry frown settled uponhis brow. 

"I am going to return immediately to New York--I am bound to find thatgirl, " he said, with an air of sullen resolution. 

"Then you were not successful in your search?" Mr. Goddard remarked, dropping his lids to hide the flash of satisfaction that leaped intohis eyes at the words. 

"No, and yes. I found out that she arrived safely in New York, whereshe was met by a young lawyer--Royal Bryant by name--who immediatelyspirited her away to some place after dodging the policeman I had seton her track. I surmise that he has put her in the care of some of hisown friends. I went to him and demanded that he tell me where she was, but I might just as well have tried to extract information from astone as from that astute disciple of the law--blast him! He finallyintimated that my room would be better than my company, and that Imight hear from him later on. "

"Ah! he has doubtless taken her case in hand--she has chosen him asher attorney, " said Mr. Goddard. 

"It looks like it, " snapped the young man; "but he will not find it aneasy matter to free her from me; the marriage was too public and tooshrewdly managed to be successfully contested. "

"It was the most shameful and dastardly piece of villainy that I everheard of, " exclaimed Gerald Goddard, indignantly, "and--"

"And you evidently intend to take the girl's part against me, " sneeredhis companion, his anger blazing forth hotly. "If I remember rightly, you rather admired her yourself. "

"I certainly did; she was one of the purest and sweetest girls I evermet, " was the dignified reply. "Emil, you have not a ghost of a chanceof supporting your claim if the matter comes to trial, and I beg thatyou will quietly relinquish it without litigation, " he concluded, appealingly. 

"Not if I know myself, " was the defiant retort. 

"But that farce was no marriage. "

"All the requirements of the law were fulfilled, and I fancy that anyone who attempts to prove to the contrary will find himself in deeperwater than will be comfortable, in spite of your assertion that I'have not a ghost of a chance. '"

"Possibly, but I doubt it. All the same, I warn you, here and now, Correlli, that I shall use what influence I have toward freeing thatbeautiful girl from your power, " Mr. Goddard affirmed, with an air ofdetermination not to be mistaken. 

"Do you mean it--you will publicly appear against me if the mattergoes into court?"

"I do. "

The young man appeared to be in a white rage for a moment; then, snapping his fingers defiantly in his companion's face, he cried:

"Do your worst! I do not fear you; you can prove nothing. "

"No, I have no absolute proof, but I can at least give the court thebenefit of my suspicions and opinion. "

"What! and compromise your dead wife before a scandal-loving public?"

"Emil, if Anna could speak at this moment, I believe she would tellthe truth herself, and save that innocent and lovely child from a fatewhich to her must seem worse than death, " Mr. Goddard solemnlyasserted. 

"Thank you--you are, to say the least, not very flattering to me inyour comparisons, " angrily retorted Monsieur Correlli, as he sprangfrom his chair and moved toward the door. 

He stopped as he laid his hand upon the silver knob and turned awhite, vindictive face upon the other. 

"Well, then, " he said, between his white, set teeth, "since you havedetermined to take this stand against me, it will not be agreeable forus to meet as heretofore, and I feel compelled to ask you to vacatethese premises at your earliest convenience. "

"Very well! I shall, of course, immediately comply with your request. A few hours will suffice me to make the move you suggest, " frigidlyresponded Gerald Goddard; but he had grown ghastly white with woundedpride and anger at being thus ignominiously turned out of the housewhere for so many years he had reigned supreme. 

Emil Correlli bowed as he concluded, and left the room without a wordin reply. 

As the door closed after him Mr. Goddard sank back in his chair with aheavy sigh, as he realized fully, for the first time, how entirelyalone in the world he was, and what a desolate future lay before him, shorn, as he was, of home and friends and all the wealth which for solong had paved a shining way for him through the world. 

His head sank heavily upon his breast, and he sat thus for severalminutes absorbed in painful reflections. 

He was finally aroused by the shutting of the street door, when, looking up, he saw the new master of the house pass the window, and heknew that henceforth he would be his bitter enemy. 

He glanced wistfully around the beautiful room--the dearest in thehouse to him; at the elegant cases of valuable books, every one ofwhich he himself had chosen and caused to be uniformly bound; at thechoice paintings in their costly frames upon the walls, and many ofwhich had been painted by his own hands; at the numerous pieces ofstatuary and rare curios which he knew would never assume theirfamiliar aspect in any other place. 

How could he ever make up his mind to dismantle that home-like spotand bury his treasures in a close and gloomy storage warehouse?

"Homeless, penniless, and alone?" he murmured, crushing back into hisbreast a sob that arose to his throat. 

Then suddenly his glance fell upon the table beside him and restedupon the letter that Mr. Clayton had given to him, and which, in theexciting occurrences of the last hour, he had entirely forgotten. 

He took it up and sighed heavily again as the faint odor of Anna'sfavorite perfume was wafted to his nostrils. 

"How changed is everything since she wrote this!--what a completerevolution in one's life a few hours can make!" he mused. 

He broke the seal with some curiosity, but with something of awe aswell, for it seemed to him almost like a message from the other world, and drew forth two sheets of closely-written paper. 

The missive was not addressed to any one; the writer had simply begunwhat she had to say and told her story through to the end, and thensigned her name in full in a clear, bold hand. 

The man had not read half the first page before his manner betrayedthat its contents were of the most vital importance. 

On and on he read, his face expressing various emotions until by thetime he reached the end there was an eagerness in his manner, a gleamof animation in his eyes which told that the communication had been ofa nature to entirely change the current of his thoughts and distractthem from everything of an unpleasant character regarding himself. 

He folded and returned the letter to its envelope with tremblinghands. 

"Oh, Anna! Anna!" he murmured, "why could you not have been alwaysgoverned by your better impulses, instead of yielding so weakly to theevil in your nature? This makes my way plain at least--now I am readyto bid farewell to this home and all that is behind me, and try tofathom what the future holds for me. "

He carefully put the letter away into an inner pocket, then sat downto his desk and began to look over his private papers. 

When that task was completed he ordered the butler to have some boxesand packing cases, that were stored in the cellar, brought up to thelibrary, when he carefully packed away such books, pictures and otherthings as he wished to take away with him. 

It was not an easy task, and he could almost as readily have committedthem to the flames as to have despoiled that beautiful home of what, for so long, had made it so dear and attractive to him. 

When his work was completed he went out, slipped over into Boylstonstreet, where he knew there were plenty of rooms to be rented, andwhere he soon engaged a _suite_ that would answer his purpose for thepresent. 

This done, he secured a man and team to move his possessions, andbefore the shades of night had fallen he had stored everything heowned away in his new quarters and bidden farewell forever to thearistocratic dwelling on Commonwealth avenue, where he had lived soluxuriously and entertained so elaborately the _crême de la crême_ ofBoston society. 

Three days later he had disappeared from the city--"gone abroad" thepapers said, "for a change of scene and to recuperate from theeffects of the shock caused by his wife's sudden death. "

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

MR. BRYANT MEETS WITH UNEXPECTED DIFFICULTIES. 

Let us now return to Edith, to ascertain how she is faring under thecare of her new friends in New York. 

On the morning following her arrival Mr. Bryant called at the house ofhis cousin, Mrs. Morrell, as he had promised, to escort our fairheroine to his office, to meet Mr. Louis Raymond, who had been soanxiously searching for her. 

The gentleman had not arrived when they reached the place that was sofamiliar to Edith, and "Roy, " as she was slyly beginning to call him, conducted her directly to his own special sanctum, and seated her inthe most comfortable chair, to await the coming of the stranger. 

"My sunshine has come back to me, " he smilingly remarked, as he bentover her and touched his lips to her forehead in a fond caress. "Ihave not had one bright day since that morning when I returned from mytrip and found your letter, telling me that you were not coming to meany more. "

"I did not think, then, that I should ever return, " Edith began, gravely. Then she added, in a lighter tone: "But now, that I am here, will you not set me at work?"

"Indeed, no; there shall be no more toiling for you, my darling, "returned the young man, with almost passionate tenderness. 

Edith shrank a little at his fond words, and a troubled expressionleaped into her eyes. 

Somehow she could not feel that she had a right to accept his lovingattentions and terms of endearment, precious as they were to her, while there was any possibility that another had a claim upon her. 

Roy saw the movement, hardly noticeable though it was, and understoodthe feeling that had prompted it, and he resolved that he would bepatient, and refrain from causing her even the slightest annoyanceuntil lie could prove to her that she was free. 

A few moments later Mr. Raymond was ushered in, and Roy, aftergreeting him cordially, presented him to Edith. 

It was evident from the earnestness with which he studied her facethat the man had more than an ordinary interest in her; while, as heclasped her hand, he appeared to be almost overcome with emotion. 

"Pardon me, " he said, as he struggled for self-control, "but thismeeting with you awakens memories that have proved too much for mycomposure. You do not resemble your mother, Miss Edith, " he concluded, in a tone of regret, as he gazed wistfully into her eyes. 

"No?" the fair girl returned, flushing, and feeling half guilty forallowing him to believe that she was Mr. And Mrs. Allandale's ownchild. 

But she had determined to let him tell his story, or at least revealthe nature of his business with her, and then be governed bycircumstances regarding her own disclosures. 

"If you will kindly excuse me, I will look over my mail while you areconversing with Miss Allandale, " Roy remarked, thinking, with truedelicacy, that the man might have some communication to make which hewould not care to have a third party overhear. 

Then, with a bow and a smile, he passed from the room, leaving the twoalone. 

"I cannot tell you how gratified I am to find you, Miss Edith, " Mr. Raymond remarked, as the door closed. "I have met only disappointmentof late, and, indeed, throughout most of my life, and I feared thatour advertisements might not meet your eye. I was deeply pained uponreturning to America, after many years spent abroad, to learn of themisfortunes of your family, while the knowledge of your mother'sprivations during the last two years of her life--as related to me byMr. Bryant--has caused me more grief than I can express. "

"Yes, mamma's last days were very, very sad, " said Edith, while tearsdimmed her eyes. 

"Tell me about them, please--tell me all about your father's death, and how it happened that you became so reduced financially, " said Mr. Raymond. 

Then the fair girl, beginning with the loss of her young brothers, related all that had occurred during the two years following, up tothe time of her mother's death, while she spoke most touchingly of thepatience and fortitude with which the gentle invalid had borne theirstruggles with poverty and hardship. 

More than once her companion was forced to wipe the tears from hischeeks, as he listened to the sad recital, while his eyes lingeredaffectionately upon the faithful girl who--as he learned from Mr. Bryant--had so heroically tried to provide for the necessities of onewhom, it was evident, he had loved with more than ordinary affection. 

When she had concluded her story he remained silent for a few moments, as if to fortify himself for the revelations which he had to make;then he remarked:

"Your mother and I, Miss Edith, were 'neighbors and playmates' duringour childhood--'schoolmates and friends' for long years afterward, shewould have told you; but--ever since I can remember, she was thedearest object the world held for me. This affection grew with mygrowth until, when I was twenty-one years of age, I asked her to marryme. Her answer was like obscuring the sun at midday, for she told methat she loved another; she had met Albert Allendale, and he had won, apparently without an effort, what I had courted for many years. Icould not blame her, for I was but too conscious that he was mysuperior, both physically and mentally, while the position he offeredher was far above anything I could hope to give her--at least, for along time. But it was a terrible blow to me, and I immediately leftthe country, feeling that I could never remain here to witness thehappiness that had been denied me. During my exile I heard from themoccasionally, through others, and of the ideal life they were leading;but I never once thought of returning to this country until about sixmonths ago, when, my health suddenly failing, I felt that I would atleast like to die upon my native soil. You can, perhaps, imagine theshock I experienced, upon arriving in New York, when I learned of Mr. Allendale's misfortunes and death, and also that his wife and onlysurviving child had been left destitute and were hiding themselves andtheir poverty in some remote corner, unknown to their former friends. I searched the city for you, and then, discouraged with my lack ofsuccess, I put my case into the hands of Mr. Bryant, from whom Ilearned of the death of your mother and your brave struggles with wantand hardships; whereupon I commissioned him to spare no effort orexpense to find you; hence the advertisement which, his note to melast evening told me, met your eye in a Boston paper, and brought youhither. "

"What a strange, romantic story!" Edith murmured, as Mr. Raymondpaused at this point; "and, although it is so very sad, it makes youseem almost like an old friend to know that you once knew and lovedmamma. "

"Thank you, dear child, " returned the man, eagerly, a smile hoveringfor a moment around his thin lips. "I hardly expected you to greet methus, but it nevertheless sounds very pleasant to my unaccustomedears. And now, having told you my story in brief, my wish is to settleupon you, for your dear mother's sake, as well as for your own, a sumthat will place you above the necessity of ever laboring for yoursupport in the future. During the last ten years I have greatlyprospered in business--indeed, I have accumulated quite a handsomefortune--while, strange to say, I have not a relative in the world toinherit it. The disease which has attacked me warns me that I have notlong to live; therefore I wish to arrange everything before my mindand strength fail me. One-half of my property I desire to leave to acertain charitable institution in this city; the remainder is to beyours, my child, and may the blessing of an old and world-weary man gowith it. "

As he concluded, Edith raised her tearful eyes to find him regardingher with a look of tender earnestness that was very pathetic. 

"You are very, very kind, Mr. Raymond, " she responded, in tremuloustones, "and I should have been inexpressibly happy if mamma could havebeen benefited by your generosity; but--I feel that I have no right toreceive this bequest from you. "

"And why not, pray?" exclaimed her companion, in surprise, a look ofkeen disappointment sweeping over his face. 

"Because--truth compels me to tell you that I am the child of Mr. AndMrs. Allandale only by adoption, " said Edith, with quivering lips, forit always pained her to think of her relationship to those whom shehad so loved, in this light. 

"Can that be possible?" cried Mr. Raymond, in astonishment. 

"Yes, sir; it hurts me to speak of it--to even think of if; but it istrue, " she replied. 

Then she proceeded to relate the circumstances of her adoption, as faras she could do so without casting any reflections upon the unhappyyoung mother who had been so wronged in Rome. 

"Of course, I loved papa and mamma just the same as if they had reallybeen my own parents, " she remarked, in conclusion, "for I had not asuspicion of the truth until after mamma died. I was always treatedexactly as if I had been as near to them as the children who died. "

"And have you no knowledge of your own parents?" Mr. Raymond inquired. 

"Not the slightest. The only clews I possess are some letters in mymother's handwriting and the name Belle that she signed to him. Strange as it may seem, there is not a surname nor any reference madeto the locality where she lived in her youth, to aid me in my searchfor her relatives. "

"That seems very singular, " said the gentleman, musingly. 

"It is not only that, but it is also very trying, " Edith returned. "Ofcourse, my mother is dead; my father"--this with a proud uplifting ofher pretty head--"I have no desire even to look upon his face. I couldnever own the relationship, even should we meet; but I would like toknow something about my mother's family, for, as far as I know, Ihave--like yourself--not a relative in the world. "

"Then pray, Miss Edith, for the sake of that other Edith whom I loved, regard me, while I live, as your stanch, true friend, " said Mr. Raymond, earnestly. "The fact that you were the child of EdithAllandale only by adoption will make no difference in my plans foryou. To all intents and purposes you were her daughter--she loved youas such--you were faithful and tender toward her until the end;therefore I shall settle the half of my property upon you for yourimmediate use. I beg that you will feel no delicacy in accepting thisprovision for your future, " he interposed, appealingly, as he remarkedher heightened color. "Mr. Bryant had full instructions to carry outmy wishes, and the money would have been yours unconditionally, had Inever been so happy as to meet you. The only favor I ask of you inreturn is the privilege of seeing you occasionally, to talk with youof your mother. "

The tears rolled thick and fast over the young girl's face at thisappeal, for she was deeply touched by the man's tender regard for herinterests, and by his yearning to be in sympathy with one who hadknown so intimately the one love of his life. 

"You are very kind, " she said, when she could command her voicesufficiently to speak. "I have no words adequate to thank you, and itwill be only a delight to me to tell you anything you may wish to knowabout her who was so dear to us both. I could never tire of talking ofmamma. More than this, I trust you will allow me to be of somecomfort to you, " she added, earnestly. "When you are lonely or ill Ishall be glad to minister to you in any way that I may be able. "

"It is very thoughtful of you, Miss Edith, to suggest anything of thekind, " Louis Raymond responded, his wan face lighting with pleasure ather words, "and no doubt I shall be glad to avail myself now and thenof your kindness; but we will talk of that at another time. "

He arose as he concluded, and, opening the door leading into the outeroffice, requested Mr. Bryant to join them, when the conversationbecame general. 

Later that same day, at Mr. Raymond's desire, the papers were drawn upthat made Edith the mistress of a snug little fortune in her ownright, the income from which would insure her every comfort during theremainder of her life. 

The man was unwilling that the matter should be delayed, lestsomething should interfere to balk his plans. 

When Roy took Edith back to Mrs. Morrell's he expressed his admirationand sympathy in the highest terms for the generous-hearted invalid. 

"When we make a home for ourselves, darling, let us invite him toshare it, and we will try to make his last days his happiest days. What do you say to the plan, sweet?" he queried, as he bent to lookinto the beautiful face beside him. 

Edith flushed painfully at his question and hesitated to reply. 

"What is it, love?" he urged, forgetting for the moment the resolve hehad made earlier in the day. 

"Of course, Roy, I would be glad to do anything in the world for onewho was so devoted to mamma, and who, for her sake, has been soconsiderate for my future; but--"

"Well, what is this dreadful 'but'?" was the smiling query. 

"I am afraid that you are too sanguine regarding our prospects, "returned the fair girl, gravely. "I am somehow impressed that weshall meet with difficulties that you do not anticipate in the way ofyour happiness. "

"Do not be faint-hearted, dear, " said her lover, tenderly, although ashade of anxiety swept over his face as he spoke. "I am goingimmediately to look up that woman with whom Giulia Fiorini told youshe boarded, and ascertain what evidence she can give me to sustain mytheory regarding Correlli's relations with the girl. "

He left Edith at Mrs. Morrell's door, and then hastened away upon hiserrand. 

He easily found the street and number which Edith had given him, and, to his joy, the name of the woman he sought was on the door. 

A portly matron, richly dressed, but with a very shrewd face, answeredhis ring, and greeted him with suave politeness. 

"Yes, she remembered Giulia Fiorini, " she remarked, in answer to hisinquiry. "She was a pretty Italian girl who had run away from her owncountry, wasn't she? Would the gentleman kindly walk in? and she wouldwillingly respond to any further questions he might wish to ask. "

Roy followed her into a handsomely-furnished parlor, that wasseparated from another by elegant portieres, which, however, wereclosely drawn, thus concealing the room beyond. 

"Yes, " madam continued, "the girl had a child--a boy--a fine littlefellow, whom she called Ino, and she did remember that a gentlemanvisited them occasionally--the girl's brother, cousin, or some otherrelation, she believed"--with a look of perplexity that would lead oneto infer that such visits had been so rare she found it difficult toplace the gentleman at all. 

"No, she did not even know his name, and she had never heard him admitthat the girl was his wife--certainly not!--nor the child call himfather or papa. There had always been something mysterious aboutGiulia, but she had appeared to have plenty of money, and had paid herwell, and thus she had not concerned herself about her privateaffairs. "

Roy's heart grew cold and heavy within him as he listened to thesesuave and evasive replies to his every question. 

It was evident to him that she had already received instructions whatto say in the event of such a visit, and was paid liberally to carrythem out. 

He spent nearly an hour with her trying to make her contradict orcommit herself in some way, but she never once made a mistake; heranswers were very pat and to the point, and he knew no more when hearose to leave than he had known when he entered the house. 

He was very heavy-hearted--indeed, a feeling of despair began tosettle down upon him; for, unless he could prove that Emil Correllihad taken Giulia Fiorini to that house, and lived with her there asher husband, he felt that he had very little to hope for regarding hisfuture with Edith. 

Madam ushered him out as courteously as she had invited him in, regretting exceedingly that she could not give him all the informationhe desired, and hoped that the matter was not so important as to causehim any especial annoyance. 

She even inquired if he knew where Giulia was at that time, remarkingthat she "had been invariably sweet-tempered and lady-like, and sheshould always feel an interest in her, in spite of a certain air ofmystery that seemed to envelop her. "

But the moment the door closed after her visitor madam's keen, blackeyes began to glitter and a shrewd smile played about her cunningmouth. 

A little gurgling laugh of triumph broke from her red lips as shereturned to the parlor, when the portieres between it and the roomwere swept aside, and Emil Correlli himself walked into her presence. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING RESULTS IN A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY. 

"Well done, madam! you managed to pull the wool over his eyes in verygood shape, " the man remarked, a look of evil triumph sweeping overhis face. 

"Certainly, Mr. Correlli, " the woman returned, in a tone of serenesatisfaction. "Only give me my price, and I am ready to make anybodybelieve that black is white, every time; and now I'll take that fivehundred, if you please, " she concluded, as she extended her fat handfor the plump fee for which she had been so zealously working. 

"You shall have it--you shall have it; I will write you a check for itimmediately, " said Monsieur Correlli. "But--you are sure there is noone in the house who knows anything about the facts of the case?" headded, inquiringly, after a moment of thought. 

"Yes, I am sure; I haven't a single servant now that was with me whenthe girl was here. "

"Have you any idea where they went after leaving you?" asked the man, with evident uneasiness. 

"Lor', no; you needn't have the slightest fear of their turning up, "responded his companion, with a light laugh. "That lawyer might aswell try to hunt for a needle in a hay-mow as to seek them aswitnesses against you; while, as for the lodgers who were here at thetime, not one of them knew anything about your affairs. By the way, "she added, curiously, "what has become of the girl?"

"She followed me to Boston, and is there now, doubtless. "

"Would she be likely to know anything about the laws of New Yorkregarding marriage?"

"No, indeed; she is a perfect ignoramus as far as any knowledge of thecustoms of this country is concerned. "

"That is lucky for you; but, if you know where she can be found, Iwould advise you to send her back to Italy with all possible dispatch. She is liable to make trouble for you if she learns the truth, for"--madam here shot a sly look at her companion--"a man can't live ayear or two with a woman here in New York, allowing her to believeherself his wife, and her child to call him 'papa'--paying all herbills, without giving her a pretty strong claim upon him. However, mum's the word with me, provided I get my pay for it, " she concluded, with a knowing wink. 

Emil Correlli frowned at her coarse familiarity and the indirectthreat implied in her last words; but, simply remarking that he "woulddraw that check, " he returned to the room whence he had come, whilehis companion turned to a window, chuckling softly to herself. 

Presently he reappeared and slipped into her hand a check for fivehundred dollars. 

"Now, in case this matter should come to court, I shall rely upon youto swear that the girl's story is false and the lawyer's charge simplya romance of his imagination, " he remarked. 

"You may depend on me, sir--I will not fail you, " madam responded, as, with a complacent look, she neatly folded the check and deposited itin her purse. 

Emil Correlli had arrived in New York very early the same morning, and, not caring to have his presence there known, he had sought a roomin the house of the woman with whom Giulia had boarded for nearly twoyears. 

Having partaken of a light breakfast, he went out again to seek thepoliceman to whom he had telegraphed to detain Edith. 

He readily found him, when he learned all that we already know of theman's efforts to obey Correlli's orders. 

"That was the girl, in spite of the lawyer's interference. You shouldhave never let her go, " he angrily exclaimed, when the officer haddescribed Edith and told his story. 

"But I couldn't, sir--I had no authority--no warrant--and I shouldhave got myself into trouble, " the man objected, adding: "The lawyerwas a shrewd one and had a high and mighty way with him that made afellow go into his boots and fight shy of him. "

Monsieur Correlli knew that the man was right, and saw that he mustmake the best of the situation; so, taking possession of Roy's card, and making his way directly to Broadway, he prowled about the vicinityof his office to see what he could discover. 

He had not waited very long when his heart bounded as he caught sightof Edith coming down the street and escorted by a handsome, manlyfellow, whose beaming face and adoring eyes plainly betrayed hissecret to the jealous watcher, who gnashed his teeth in fury at thesight. 

The happy, unconscious couple soon disappeared within an officebuilding, whereupon Correlli went back to his lodgings to lay hisplans for future operations. 

Some hours later, while he was conversing with his landlady in herpretty parlor, he was startled to see Edith's champion of the morningmounting the steps of the house. 

Like a flash he seemed to comprehend the object of his visit there;but he was puzzled to understand how it was possible for either Edithor him to know that he or Giulia had ever lived there. 

A few rapid words were sufficient to reveal the situation to hislandlady, to whom he promised a liberal reward if she would implicitlyfollow his directions. 

The result we know; and, although his bribe had been a heavy one, hedid not begrudge the money, since he believed he had thus securelyfortified himself against all attacks from the enemy. 

Later in the day he attempted to dog the young lawyer's steps, hopingthus to ferret out Edith's hiding place; but nothing satisfactoryresulted, for Roy, after his hard and somewhat disappointing day, simply repaired to his club, where, after partaking of his dinner andsmoking a cigar to soothe his nerves, he retired to rest. 

But the next morning, feeling secure of his position, Emil Correlliboldly presented himself in his rival's office and demanded of himEdith's address. 

Roy was prepared for him, for his fruitless visit to Giulia's formerlandlady had aroused his suspicions that Monsieur Correlli was in thecity. 

Therefore he had resolved neither to evade nor parley with him, butboldly defy the man, by acknowledging himself the wronged girl'schampion and legal adviser. 

"I cannot give you Miss Allandale's address, " he quietly responded tohis visitor's demand. 

"Do you mean to imply that you do not know it?" he questioned, arrogantly. 

"Not at all, sir; the lady is under my protection, as my client;therefore, in her interest I refuse to reveal her place of residence, "Roy coolly responded. 

"But she is my wife, and I have a right to know where she is, " saidthe would-be husband, his anger flaming up hotly at being thus balkedin his desires. 

"Your wife?" repeated the young lawyer, in an incredulous tone, butgrowing white about the mouth from the effort he made to retaincommand of himself, as the obnoxious term fell from the villain'slips. 

"Certainly--I claim her as such; my right to do so cannot bequestioned. "

"There may be a difference of opinion regarding that matter, " Roycalmly rejoined. 

"But we were publicly married on the twenty-fifth. "

"Ah! but there are circumstances under which even such a ceremony canhave no legal significance. "

The fiery Italian was no match for the lawyer in that cool, calm mood, and his anger increased as he realized it. 

"But I have my certificate, and can produce plenty of witnesses toprove my statements, " he retorted. 

"The court will decide whether your evidence is sufficient tosubstantiate your claim, " Mr. Bryant composedly remarked. 

"The court?--will she take the matter into court?--will she darecreate such a scandal?" exclaimed the man, in a startled tone. 

"I do not feel at liberty, even had I the inclination, to reveal anypoints in my client's case, " coldly replied the young lawyer. "Thismuch I will say, however, " he added, sternly, "I shall leave nothingundone to free her from a tie that is both hateful and fraudulent. "

"I warn you that you will have a battle to fight that will cost yousomething, " snarled the baffled villain. 

"That also remains to be seen, sir; but whether you or I win thisbattle, let me tell you, once for all, that Miss Allandale will neversubmit to any authority which you may imagine you have acquired overher by tricking her into this so-called marriage; she will never liveone hour with you; she will never respond to your name. "

Royal Bryant arose as he concluded this defiant speech, thusintimating to his visitor that he wished to put an end to theinterview, for the curb that he was putting upon himself was becomingalmost unbearable. 

Emil Correlli gazed searchingly into his face for a moment, as iftrying to measure his foe. 

He could not fail to realize the superiority of the man, mentally, morally and physically, and the thought was maddening that perhapsEdith had freely given to him the love for which he had abjectly suedin vain. 

"Well, " he finally remarked, as he also arose, while he revealed hiswhite teeth in a vicious smile, "it may be in her power to carry outthat resolution, but one thing is sure, she can never free herselffrom the fetters which she finds so galling--she can never marry anyother man while I live. "

This shot told, for the blue veins in Roy's temples suddenly swelledout full at the malignant retort. 

But he mastered his first impulse to seize the wretch and throw himfrom the window into the street, and quietly remarked:

"As I have twice before observed, sir, all these things remain to beseen and proved. Now, can I do anything further for you to-day?"

The man could not do otherwise than take the hint; besides, there wasthat in Roy's eye which warned him that it would not be safe for himto try him too far. So, abruptly turning upon his heel, he left theroom, while our young lawyer, with tightly compressed lips andcare-lined brow, walked the floor in troubled thought. 

After leaving his office Emil Correlli repaired to the hotel where hisletters were usually sent, and found awaiting him there a telegramannouncing the sudden death of his sister and requesting his immediatereturn to Boston. 

Shocked beyond measure, and grieved to the soul by this unexpectedbereavement, he dropped everything and left New York on the nexteastward express. 

We know all that occurred in that home where death had come sounexpectedly; how, after the burial of Mrs. Goddard, Emil Correlli hadsuddenly found his already large fortune greatly augmented by thestrange will of his sister, while the man whom she had alwaysprofessed to adore was left destitute, and to shift for himself asbest he could. 

The day after he had turned Gerald Goddard out of his home, so tospeak, the young man dismissed all his servants, closed the house, andput it into the hands of a real estate agent to be disposed of at thebest advantage. 

He made an effort to find Giulia and her child, with the intention ofsettling a comfortable income upon them, provided he could make thegirl promise to return to Italy and never trouble him again. 

But she had disappeared, and he could learn absolutely nothingregarding her movements; and, impressed with a feeling that she wouldyet revenge herself upon him in some unexpected way, he finallyreturned to New York, determined to ferret out Edith's hiding place. 

Meantime the fair girl had been very happy with her new friends, whowere also growing very fond of her. 

But she would not allow herself to build too much upon the hope ofattaining her freedom which Roy had tried to arouse in her heartshortly after her arrival in New York. 

Indeed, she had begun to notice that, after the first day or two, hehad avoided conversing upon the subject, while he often wore a look ofanxiety and care which betrayed that he was deeply troubled aboutsomething. 

In fact, Roy was very heavy-hearted, for, since his failure to learnanything from Giulia's former landlady to prove his theory correct, hehad begun to fear that it would be a very difficult matter to free thegirl he loved from the chain that bound her to Correlli. 

If he could have found the discarded girl herself he believed that, with her assistance, he would soon discover the servants who had beenin the house during her residence there, and, through them, find somesubstantial evidence to work upon. 

But although he had advertised for her in several Boston papers, hehad not been able to get any trace of her. 

He had, however, filed a plea to have Edith's so-called marriage setaside, and was anxiously waiting for some time to be appointed for ahearing of the' case. 

Edith and her new acquaintance, Mr. Raymond, were fast becoming firmfriends, in spite of the suspense that was hanging over the formerregarding her future. 

The young girl had first been drawn toward the invalid from a feelingof sympathy, and because of his old-time fondness for her mother. But, upon becoming better acquainted with him, she began to admire him forhis many noble qualities, both of mind and heart, while she ever foundhim a most entertaining companion, as he possessed an exhaustless fundof anecdote and personal experiences, acquired during his extensivetravels, which he never wearied of relating when he could find anappreciative listener. 

Thus she spent a great deal of time with him, while by her many littleattentions to his comfort she won a large place in his heart. 

One day Mrs. Morrell and Edith went to attend a charity exhibitionthat was under the supervision of a friend of the former, at her ownhouse. 

Upon their arrival they were ushered into the drawing-room, which wasbeautifully decorated and hung with many exquisite paintings, whilesome rare gems were resting conspicuously upon easels. 

In one corner, and artistically draped with a beautiful scarf, Edithwas startled, almost at the moment of her entrance, to see a paintingthat was very familiar. 

It was that representing a portion of an old Roman wall, with thelovers resting in its shadow, which had attracted the attention ofMrs. Stewart on the last night of the "winter frolic, " at Wyoming. 

With an expression of astonishment she went forward to examine it moreclosely and to assure herself that it was the original, and not acopy. 

Yes, those two tiny letters, G. G. , in one corner, told their ownstory, and proved her surmise to be correct. 

"How strange that it should be here!" she breathed. 

She had hardly uttered the words when some one arose from behind theeasel, and--she stood face to face with Gerald Goddard himself. 

The girl stood white and almost paralyzed before him, and the manappeared scarcely less astonished on beholding her. 

"Miss Allen!" he faltered. "I never dreamed of meeting you here!"

"Oh, pray do not tell Monsieur Correlli that you have seen me, " shegasped, fear for the moment superseding every other thought. 

"Do not be troubled--he shall learn nothing from me, " said the man, reassuringly. "Correlli and I are not very good friends just now, simply because I told him that I should do all in my power to help youprove that he had no just claim upon you. "

"Thank you, " said Edith, flushing with hope, but involuntarilyshrinking from him, for she could not forget how he had degradedhimself before her on that last horrible night at Wyoming. 

"I suppose you have heard of my--of Mrs. Goddard's death?" heremarked, after a moment of silence. 

"Mrs. Goddard--dead?" exclaimed Edith, shocked beyond expression. 

"Yes, she died very suddenly, the second morning after you leftBoston. "

Edith was about to respond with some expression of regret andsympathy, when she saw him start violently, and a look of agony, thatbordered on despair, leap into his eyes. 

Involuntarily she turned to see what had caused it, and was bothsurprised and delighted to behold Mrs. Stewart--whom she supposed tobe in Boston--just entering the room, and looking especially lovely ina rich black velvet costume, with a hat to match, but brightened bytwo or three exquisite pink roses. 

At that instant a lady, to whom she had recently been introduced, laidher hand upon Edith's arm, remarking in quick, incisive tones:

"Miss Allandale, your friend, Mrs. Morrell, is beckoning you to cometo her. "

Again Gerald Goddard started, and so violently that he nearly knockedhis picture from the easel. 

He shot one quick, horrified glance at the girl. 

"Miss Allandale!" he repeated, in a dazed tone, as all that the nameimplied forced itself upon his mind. 

Another in the room had also caught the name, and turned to see whohad been thus addressed. 

As her glance fell upon Edith her beautiful face grew radiant. 

"Oh, if it should be--" she breathed. 

The next moment she had crossed the room to the girl's side. 

"What did Mrs. Baldwin call you, dear?" she breathlessly inquired, regardless of etiquette, for she had not yet greeted her hostess. "Wasit Miss Allandale?"

"Yes, that is my name, " said Edith, flushing, but frankly meeting herlook of eager inquiry. 

"But you told me--" Mrs. Stewart whispered. 

"Yes, " interposed the young girl, "while I was in Boston I was knownsimply as Edith Allen--why, I will explain to you at some other time;but my real name is Edith Allandale. "

The woman seemed turned to stone for a moment by this unexpectedrevelation, so statue-like did she become, as she also realized allthat this confession embodied. 

Then, as if compelled by some magnetic influence, her eyes were drawntoward the no less statue-like man standing by that never-to-beforgotten picture on the easel. 

Their gaze met, and each read in that one brief look the convictionthat made one heart bound with joy, the other to sink withdespair--each knew that the beautiful girl, standing so wonderinglybeside that stately woman, was the child that had been born to them inthe pretty Italian villa hard by the old Roman wall which GeraldGoddard had so faithfully reproduced upon canvas. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

"THAT MAN MY FATHER!"

Isabel Stewart was the first to recover herself, when, gently linkingher arm within Edith's, she whispered, softly:

"Come with me, dear; I would like to see you alone for a few minutes. "

She led her unresistingly from the room, across the hall, to a smallreception-room, when, closing the door to keep out intruders, sheturned and laid both her trembling hands upon the girl's shoulders. 

"Tell me, " she said, looking wistfully into her wondering eyes, "areyou the daughter of Albert and Edith Allandale?"

"Yes. "

It was all the answer that Edith, in her excitement, could make. 

The beautiful woman caught her breath graspingly, and every particleof color faded from her face. 

"Tell me, also, " she went on, hurriedly, "did you ever hear your--yourmother speak of a friend by the name of Belle Haven?"

Edith's heart leaped into her throat at this question, and she, too, began to tremble, as a suspicion of the truth flashed through hermind. 

"No, " she said, with quivering lips, "I never heard her mention such aperson; but--"

"Yes--'but'--" eagerly repeated her companion. 

"But, " the fair girl continued, gravely, while she searched with alook of pain the eyes looking so eagerly into hers, "the evening aftermamma was buried, I found some letters which had been written to herfrom Rome, and which were all signed 'Belle. '"

"Oh!--"

It was a sharp cry of agony that burst from Isabel Stewart's lips. 

"Oh, why did she keep them?" she went on, wildly; "how could she havebeen so unwise? Why--why did she not destroy them?"

At these words a light so eager, so beautiful, so tender that itseemed to transfigure her, suddenly illumined Edith's face, for theyconfirmed, beyond a doubt, the suspicion and hope that had beencreeping into her heart. 

"Tell me--are you that 'Belle'?" she whispered, bending nearer to herwith gleaming eyes. 

"Oh, do not ask me!" cried the unhappy woman, a bitter sob escapingher. 

She had never dreamed of anything so dreadful as that those fatalletters would fall into the hands of her child, to prejudice her andmake her shrink from her with aversion. 

She had planned, if she was ever so fortunate as to find her, and hadto reveal her history to her, to smooth over all that would be likelyto shock her--that she would never confess to her how despair haddriven her to the verge of that one crime upon which she now lookedback with unspeakable horror. 

The thought that this beautiful girl knew all, and believed theworst--as she could not fail to do, she reasoned, after reading thecrude facts mentioned in those letters--filled her with shame andgrief: for how could she ever eradicate those first impressions, andwin the love she so craved?

Thus she was wholly unprepared for what followed immediately upon herindirect acknowledgment of her identity. 

The gentle girl, her expressive face radiant with mingled joy, love, sympathy, slipped both arms around her companion's waist, and droppingher head upon her shoulder, murmured, fondly:

"Ah, I am sure you are!--I am sure that I have found my mother, and--Iam almost too happy to live. "

"Child! my own darling! Is it possible that you can thus open yourheart of hearts to me?" sobbed the astonished woman, as she claspedthe slight form to her in a convulsive embrace. 

"Oh, yes--yes; I have longed for you, with longing unspeakable, eversince I knew, " Edith murmured, tremulously. 

"Longed for me? Ah, I never dared to hope that Heaven could be sokind. I feared, love, that you would despise me, as a weak and willfulwoman, even after I should tell you all my story, with its extenuatingcircumstances; but now, while knowing and believing only the worst, you take me into the arms of your love, and own me--your mother!"

She broke down utterly at this point, and both, clasped in eachother's embrace, sobbed in silent sympathy for a few moments. 

"Well, dearest, this will never do, " Mrs. Stewart at last exclaimed, as she lifted her face and smiled tenderly upon Edith; "we must atleast compose ourselves long enough to make our adieus to our hostess;then I am going to take you home with me, to have all the story of ourtangled past unraveled and explained. Come, let us sit down for a fewmoments, until we get rid of the traces of our tears, and you shalltell me how you happened to be in Boston under the name of EdithAllen. "

She drew her toward a couch as she spoke, and there Edith related howshe had happened to meet the Goddard's on the train, between New Yorkand Boston, and was engaged to act as madam's companion, and how alsothe mistake regarding her name had occurred. 

"And were you happy with them, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Stewart, regarding her curiously. 

The fair girl flushed. 

"Indeed I was not, " she replied, "I think they were the strangestpeople I ever met. "

Almost as she spoke the door of the reception-room opened, and GeraldGoddard himself appeared upon the threshold. 

He was pale to ghastliness, and looked years older than when Edith hadseen him in the drawing-room a few minutes previous. 

"Pardon me this intrusion, Miss--Edith, " he began, shrinkingly, whilehe searched both faces before him with despairing eyes; "but I amabout to leave, and I wished to give you this note before I went. If, after reading it, you should care to communicate with me, you canaddress me at the Murry Hill Hotel. "

He laid the missive upon a table near the door, then, with a bow, withdrew, leaving the mother and daughter alone again. 

"That was Mr. Goddard, " Edith explained to her companion, as she aroseto take the letter; but without a suspicion that the two had ever metbefore, or that the man was her own father--the "monster" who had sowronged her beautiful mother. 

Mrs. Stewart made no reply to the remark; and Edith, breaking the sealof the envelope in her hands, drew forth several closely-writtenpages. 

"Why!" she exclaimed, in a startled tone, "this is Mrs. Goddard'shandwriting!"

She hastily unfolded the sheets and ran her eye rapidly down the firstpage, when a low cry broke from her lips, and, throwing herself uponher knees before her mother, she buried her face in her lap, murmuring joyfully:

"Saved! saved!"

"Darling, tell me!--what is this that excites you so?" Mrs. Stewartpleaded, as she bent over her and softly kissed her flushed cheek. 

Edith put the letter into her hands, saying, eagerly:

"Read it--read it!--it will tell its own story. "

Her companion obeyed her, and, as she read, her face grew stern andwhite--her eyes glittered with a fiery light which told of an outragedspirit aroused to a point where it would have been dangerous for thewoman who once had deeply wronged her, had she been living, to havecrossed her path again. 

"If I had known!--if I had known--" she began, when she reached theend. Then, suddenly checking herself, she added, tenderly, to Edith:"My love, it seems so wonderful--all this that has happened to you andto me! We must take time to talk it all over by ourselves. You canexcuse yourself to your friend, can you not, and come with me to theWaldorf? Say that I wish to keep you for the remainder of the day andnight, but will return you to her in the morning. "

Edith's face beamed with delight at this proposal. 

"Yes, indeed, " she said, rising to comply at once with the request. "Iam sure Nellie will willingly give me up, when I whisper the truth inher ear. My dear--dear mother!" she added, tremulously, as she bentforward and kissed the beautiful face with quivering lips, "thiswonderful revelation seems too joyful to be true!"

"Edith, my child, " gravely said Isabel Stewart, as she held the girl alittle away from her and searched her face with anxious eyes, "afterlearning what you did of me, from those horrible letters, is there noshrinking in your heart--is there no feeling of--of shame or ofpitiful contempt for me?"

"Not an atom, dear, " whispered the trustful maiden, whose keenintuitions had long since fathomed the character of the woman beforeher; "to me you are as pure and dear as if that man--whoever he mayhave been--had never cast a shadow upon your life by the shamefuldeception which he practiced upon you. "

"My blessed little comforter! you shall be rewarded for your faith inme, " returned Mrs. Stewart, her lips wreathed in fondest smiles, hereyes glowing with happiness. "But go excuse yourself to Mrs. Morrell, then we will take leave of our hostess, and go home. "

Ten minutes later they were on their way to the Waldorf. 

It was rather a silent drive, for both were still too deeply movedover their recent reunion to care to enter into details just then. Itwas happiness enough to sit side by side, hand clasped in hand, knowing that they were mother and daughter, and in tenderest sympathywith each other. 

Upon arriving at her hotel Mrs. Stewart led the way directly to herdelightful suite of rooms, where, the moment the door was closed, sheturned and once more gathered Edith into her arms. 

"I must hold you--I must feel you, else I shall not be quite sure thatI am not dreaming, " she exclaimed. "I find it difficult to realize mygreat happiness. Can it be possible that I have my own again, after somany years! that you were once the tiny baby that I held in my arms inRome, and loved better than any other earthly object? It is wonderful!wonderful! and strangest of all is the fact that your heart turns sofondly to me! Are you sure, dear, that you can unreservedly accept andlove your mother, in spite of those letters, and what they revealedregarding my past life?"

And again she searched Edith's face and eyes as if she would read herinmost thoughts. 

She met her glance clearly, unshrinkingly. 

"I am sure that you never committed a willful wrong in your life, " shegravely replied. "It was a sad mistake to go away from your home andparents, as you did; but there is no intent to sin to be laid to yourcharge--your soul shines, like a beacon light, through these deareyes, and I am sure it is as pure and lovely as your face isbeautiful. "

"May He who always judges with divine mercy bless you for your sweetcharity and faith, " murmured Isabel Stewart, in tremulous tones, asshe passionately kissed the lips which had just voiced such a blessedassurance of trust and love. 

"Now come, " she went on, a moment later, while, with her own hands, she tenderly removed Edith's hat and wrap, "we will make ourselvescomfortable, then I will tell you all the sad story of my misguidedyouth. "

Twining her arms about the girl's waist, she led her to a seat, andsitting beside her, she circumstantially related all that we alreadyknow of her history. 

But not once did she mention the name of the man who had so deeplywronged her; for she had resolved, if it were possible, to keep fromEdith the fact that Gerald Goddard, under whose roof she had lived, was her father. 

The young girl, however, was not satisfied, was not content to be thuskept in the dark; and, when her mother's story was ended, sheinquired, with grave face and clouded eyes:

"Who was this man?--why have you so persistently retrained fromidentifying him? What was the name of that coward to whom--with shameI say it--I am indebted for my being?"

"My love, cannot you restrain your curiosity upon that point? Will younot let the dead past bury its dead, without erecting a tablet to itsmemory?" her companion pleaded, gently. "It can do you no possiblegood--it might cause you infinite pain to know. "

"Is the man living?" Edith sternly demanded. 

Mrs. Stewart flushed. 

"Yes, " she replied, after a moment of hesitation. 

"Then I must know--you must tell me, so that I may shun him as I wouldshun a deadly serpent, " the young girl exclaimed, with compressed lipsand flashing eyes. 

Mrs. Stewart looked both pained and troubled. 

"My love, I wish you would not press this point, " she remarked, nervously. 

"Edith turned and gazed searchingly into her eyes. 

"Do you still cherish an atom of affection for him?" she inquired. 

"No! a thousand times no!" was the emphatic response, accompanied by agesture of abhorrence. 

"Then you can have no personal motive or sensitiveness concerning thematter. "

"No, my child--my desire is simply to save you pain--to spare you ashock, perchance. "

"Do I know him already?--have I ever seen him?" cried Edith, in astartled tone. 

"Yes, dear. "

"Then tell me! tell me!" panted the girl. "Oh! if I have spoken withhim, it is a wonder that my tongue was not paralyzed in the act--thatmy very soul did not shrink and recoil with aversion from him!" sheexclaimed, trembling from head to foot with excitement. 

Her mother saw that it would be useless to attempt to keep the truthfrom her; that it would be better to tell her, or she might brood overthe matter and make herself unhappy by vainly trying to solve theriddle in her own mind. 

"Edith, " she said, with gentle gravity, "the man is--Gerald Goddard!"

The girl sprang to her feet, electrified by the startling revelation, a low cry of dismay escaping her. 

"He! that man my--father!" she breathed, hoarsely, with dilatingnostrils and horrified eyes. 

"It is true, " was the sad response. "I would have saved you the painof knowing this if I could. "

"Oh! and I have lived day after day in his presence! I have talked andjested with him! I have eaten of his bread, and his roof has shelteredme!" cried Edith, shivering with aversion. "Why, oh, why did not someinstinct warn me of the wretched truth, and enable me to repudiate himand then fly from him as from some monster of evil? Ah, I was warned, if I had but heeded the signs, " she continued, with flushed cheeks andflaming eyes. "There were many times when some word or look wouldmake me shrink from him with a strange repugnance, and that last nightin Wyoming--oh, he revealed his evil nature to me in a way that mademe loathe him!"

"My child, pray calm yourself, " pleaded her mother, regarding her withastonishment, for she never could have believed, but for thismanifestation, that the usually gentle girl could have displayed somuch spirit under any circumstances. "Come, " she added, "sit downagain, and explain what you meant by your reference to that last nightat Wyoming. "

And Edith, obeying her, related the conversation that had occurredbetween Mr. Goddard and herself, on the night of the ball, when theman had come to the dressing-room and asked her to button his gloves. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

FURTHER EXPLANATIONS BETWEEN MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 

"It was very, very strange that you should have drifted into his homein such a way, " Mrs. Stewart observed, when Edith's narrative wasended. "But, dear, I am not sorry--it was perhaps the best thing thatcould have happened, under the circumstances, for it afforded you anopportunity to gain an insight into the man's character without havingbeen previously influenced or prejudiced by any one. If you had nevermet him, you might have imagined, after hearing my story, that I wasmore bitter and unforgiving toward him than he justly merited. "

"He must have recognized you instantly when you entered Mrs. Wallace'sdrawing-room to-day, " said Edith, musingly; "for, did you notice howstrangely he looked when Mrs. Baldwin called me Miss Allandale, andyou came to me so eagerly?"

"Yes; the relationship you bear to us both must have flashed upon himwith as great a shock as upon me, " Mrs. Stewart returned. 

"And how perfectly wretched he appeared when he came to thereception-room door to give me the letter, " Edith remarked, musingly, as that white, pained face arose before her mind's eye. 

"Can you wonder, dear? How could he help being appalled when heremembered the treatment you had received while you were a member ofhis family?"

"It all seems very wonderful!" said the fair girl, thoughtfully, "andthe fact of your being in the house at the same time, seems strangestof all!"

"It was a very bold thing to do, I admit, " responded Mrs. Stewart;"but the case demanded some risk on my part--I was determined to gethold of that certificate, if it was in existence. I thought it betterto employ strategy, rather than come into open controversy with them, as I wished to avoid all publicity if possible. I firmly believe that, if Anna Correlli had suspected that I was still alive, she would havedestroyed the document rather than allow it to come into mypossession. "

"But you could have proved your marriage, through Mr. Forsyth, even ifshe had, " Edith interposed. 

"Yes; but it would have caused a terrible scandal, for Mr. Goddardwould have had to answer to the charge of bigamy; while the publicityI should have had to endure would have been exceedingly disagreeableto me. If, however, I had failed in my plans I should not havehesitated to adopt bold measures--for I was determined, for your sakeas well as my own, to have proof that I was a legal wife and my childentitled to bear the name of her father, even though he might beunworthy of her respect. "

"How did you happen to discover where the certificate was concealed?"Edith inquired. 

"Do you remember, dear, the day when you came upon me, sitting faintand weary on the back stairs, and insisted that I should exchange workwith you?" her companion questioned, with a fond smile. 

"Yes, indeed, but I little thought that it was my own mother who wasso worn out by performing such unaccustomed labor, " the young girlresponded, as she raised the hand she was holding and touched her lipssoftly to it. 

"Neither of us had a suspicion of the tie between us, " returned Mrs. Stewart; "and yet, from the moment that you entered the house, Iexperienced an unaccountable fondness for you. "

"And I was immediately impressed that there was something verymysterious about you--our portly housekeeper, " Edith smilinglyreplied. 

"Did you?"

"Yes; for one thing, these hands"--regarding them fondly--"neverlooked as if they really belonged to portly Mrs. Weld, and, severaltimes, you forgot to speak in your coarse, assumed tones; while, thatevening, when I captured your hideous blue glasses, and looked intothese lovely eyes, I was almost sure that you were not the woman youappeared to be. "

"I remember, " said her mother, "and I was conscious of yoursuspicions; but I did not mind, for my mission in that house wasalmost ended, and I intended, as soon as I could resume my realcharacter, to renew my acquaintance with you, as Mrs. Stewart, and seeif I could not persuade you to leave that uncongenial atmosphere andcome to me. "

"How strange!" murmured Edith. 

"It was the motherly instinct reaching out after its own, " was thetender response. "But, about my finding the certificate: You rememberyou offered to put the rooms in order, if I would sew for youmeanwhile?"

"Yes. "

"Well, that was the time that I learned where that precious papercould be found, " and then she proceeded to relate the conversationthat she had overheard between Mr. And Mrs. Goddard, and how, emboldened by it, she had afterward gone to the room of the latter tofind her in the act of examining the very document she wanted. 

She also told how, later, she had gone, by herself, to the room anddeliberately taken possession of it. 

She also mentioned the incident that had occurred on the same day inthe dining-room, when Mr. Goddard had knocked her glasses off andseemed so disconcerted upon looking into her eyes. 

"He appeared like one who had suddenly come face to face with someghost of his past--as indeed he had, " she concluded, with a sigh. 

"I do not see how it can be possible for him to have known onepeaceful moment since the day of his desertion of you in Rome, " Edithremarked, with a grave, thoughtful face. 

"I do not think he has, " said her mother. "No one can be really atpeace while leading a life of sin and selfish indulgence. I wouldrather, a thousand times, have lived my life, saddened andovershadowed by a great wrong and a lasting disgrace--as I havebelieved it to be--than to have exchanged places with either GeraldGoddard or Anna Correlli. "

"How relieved you must have been when you met Mr. Forsyth and learnedthat your marriage had been a legal one, " Edith observed, while sheuttered a sigh of gratitude as she realized that thus all reproach hadalso been removed from her. 

"Indeed I was, love; but more on your account than mine. And Iimmediately returned to America to prove it, and then reveal to mydear old friend, Edith, the fact that no stigma rested upon the birthof the child whom she had so nobly adopted as her own. Poor Edith! Iloved her with all my heart, " interposed the fair woman, with startingtears. "I wish I might have seen her once more, to bless her, from thedepths of my grateful soul, for having so sacredly treasured the jewelthat I committed to her care. If I could but have known two yearsearlier, and found her, she never need have suffered the privationswhich I am sure hastened her untimely death. You, too, my darling, would have been spared the wretched experience of which you have toldme. "

"I do not mind so much for myself, but was in despair sometimes tosee how much mamma missed and needed the comforts to which she hadalways been accustomed, " said Edith, the tears rolling over her cheeksas she remembered the patient sufferer who never murmured, even whenshe was enduring the pangs of hunger. 

"Well, dear, do not grieve, " said Mrs. Stewart, folding her in a fondembrace. "I know, from what you have told me, that you did your utmostto shield her from every ill; and, judging from what you have saidregarding the state of her health at the time of Mr. Allandale'sdeath, I believe she could not have lived very much longer, even underthe most favorable circumstances. Now, my child, " she continued, morebrightly, and to distract the girl's thoughts from the sad past, "since everything is all explained, tell me something about these newfriends of whom you have spoken--Mr. Bryant, Mrs. Morrell and Mr. Raymond. "

Edith blushed rosily at the mention of her lover's name, and almostinvoluntarily she slipped her hand into her pocket and clasped aletter that lay concealed there. 

"Mr. Bryant is the gentleman in whose office I was working at the timeof mamma's death, " she explained. "He, too, was the one who was sokind when I got into trouble with the five-dollar gold piece, and soit was to him I applied for advice, after escaping from EmilCorrelli. "

"Ah!" simply remarked Mrs. Stewart, but she was quick to observe theshy smile that hovered about the beautiful girl's mouth while she wasspeaking of Roy. 

"I telegraphed him to meet me when I should arrive in New York, " Edithresumed, "because I knew it would be late, and I did not know where itwould be best for me to go. He did so, and took me directly to hiscousin, and that is how I happened to be with Mrs. Morrell. "

Mrs. Stewart put one taper finger beneath Edith's pretty, round chin, and gently lifting her downcast face, looked searchingly into hereyes. 

"Darling, you are very fond of Mr. Bryant, are you not?" she softlyquestioned. 

Instantly the fair face was dyed crimson, and, dropping her head uponher mother's shoulder, she murmured:

"How can I help it?"

"And he is going to win my daughter from me? I hope he is worthy. "

"Oh, he is noble to the core of his heart, " was the earnest reply. 

"I believe he must be, dear, or you could not love him, " smilinglyreturned her companion, adding: "At all events, he has been very kindand faithful to you, and therefore deserves my everlasting gratitude. Now tell me of this Mr. Raymond. "

So Edith proceeded to relate the story of that gentleman's unfortunatelove for and devotion to Mrs. Allandale; his recent quest for her, after learning of Mr. Allandale's misfortune and death, in order toleave his money to her; and how, after learning from Roy that she haddied, he had then advertised for herself, and, since her return to NewYork, had settled the half of his fortune upon her. 

"Really, it is like a romance, dear, " said Mrs. Stewart, smiling, though somewhat sadly, when she concluded her pathetic tale. "To thinkthat, after all, I should find my little girl an heiress in her ownright! What a rich little body you will be by and by, when you alsocome in possession of your mother's inheritance, " she added, lightly. 

"Oh, pray do not suggest such a thought!" cried Edith, clinging toher. "All the wealth of the world could not make up to me the loss ofmy mother. Now that we have found each other, pray Heaven that we maybe spared many, many years to enjoy our happiness. "

"Forgive me, Edith--I should not have spoken like that, " said Mrs. Stewart, bending forward to kiss the sweet, pained face beside her. "We will not begin to apprehend a parting in this first hour of ourjoy. Now I suppose we ought to consider what relationship we aregoing to sustain to each other in the future, before the world. Ofcourse, neither of us would enjoy the notoriety which a true statementof our affairs would entail; at the same time, having found you, mydarling, I feel that I can never allow you to call me anything but'mother'--which is music to my hungry ears. "

"No, indeed--I can never be denied the privilege of owning you, " criedEdith, earnestly. 

"Well, then, suppose you submit to a second adoption?" Mrs. Stewartsuggested. "It will be very easy, and perfectly truthful, to statethat, having been a dear friend of Mrs. Allandale's youth, andreturning from abroad to find you alone in the world, I solicited theprivilege of adopting the child of my old schoolmate and providing forher future. Such an arrangement would appear perfectly natural to theworld, and no one could criticise us for loving each other just astenderly as we choose, or question your right to give me the title Idesire. What do you say, dear?"

"I think the plan a very nice one, and agree to it with all my heart, "Edith eagerly responded. 

"Then we will proceed to carry it out immediately, for I am veryimpatient to set up an establishment of my own, and introduce mydarling daughter to society, " smilingly returned Mrs. Stewart; adding, as she observed her somewhat curiously, "Are you fond of society andgay life, Edith?"

"Y-es, to a certain extent, " was the rather thoughtful reply. 

"How am I to interpret that slightly indefinite remark?" Mrs. Stewartplayfully inquired. "Most girls are only too eager for fashionablelife. "

"And I used to enjoy it exceedingly, " said the young girl, gravely, "but I have had an opportunity to see the other side during the lasttwo years, and my ideas regarding what constitutes true enjoyment andhappiness have become somewhat modified. I am sure that I shall stillenjoy refined society; but, mother, dear, if your means are so ample, and you intend to set up an establishment of your own, let us, at theoutset, take a stand in the social world that no one can mistake, andmaintain it most rigidly. "

"A 'stand, ' Edith! I don't quite clearly comprehend your meaning, "said Mrs. Stewart, as she paused an instant. 

"I mean regarding the people with whom we will and will not mingle. Have you ever heard of Paula Nelson, mother?"

"Yes, dear; I met her only a few evenings ago, at the house of Mrs. Raymond Ventnor; she is a noble woman, with a noble mission. I beginto comprehend you now, Edith. "

"Then let us join her, heart and hand--let us take our stand forchastity and morality, " Edith earnestly resumed. "Let us pledgeourselves never to admit within our doors any man who bears thereputation of being immoral, or who lightly esteems the purity of anywoman, however humble; while, on the other hand, let us never refuseto hold out a helping hand to those poor, unfortunate girls, who, having once been deceived, honestly desire to rise above theirmistake. "

"That is bravely spoken, my noble Edith, " said Mrs. Stewart, with dewyeyes. "And surely I, who have so much greater cause for taking such astand than you, will second you most heartily in maintaining it in ourfuture home. I believe that such a determination on the part of everypure woman, would soon make a radical change in the tone of society. "

Both were silent for a few moments after this, but finally Edithturned to her companion and inquired:

"Mother, dear, where is Mr. Willard Livermore--the gentleman whorescued you from the Tiber--and his sister, also, who cared for you sofaithfully during your long illness?"

"Alice Livermore is in Philadelphia, where she has long beenpracticing medicine for sweet charity's sake. Mr. Livermore is--herein New York, " Mrs. Stewart responded, but flushing slightly as shespoke the name of the gentleman. 

Something in her tone caused Edith to glance up curiously into herface, and she read there, in the lovely flush and tender eye, whichtold her that her mother regarded her deliverer with a sentiment farstronger and deeper than that of mere gratitude or admiration. 

"Ah! you--" she began, impulsively, and then stopped, confused. 

"Yes, love, " confessed the beautiful woman, with shining eyes, "I willhave no secrets from you--we both love each other with an everlastinglove; for long years this has been so; and had we been sure that thereexisted no obstacle to our union, it is probable that I should havemarried Mr. Livermore long ago. But we both believe in the Bibleritual, and those words, 'until death doth part, ' have been a barrierwhich neither of us was willing to overleap. Each knows the heart ofthe other; and, though it sometimes seems hard that our lives must bedivided, when our tastes are so congenial in every particular, yet wehave mutually decided that only as 'friends' have we the right toclasp hands and greet each other in this world. "

Edith put up her lips and softly kissed the flushed cheek nearest her. 

"How I love and honor you!" she whispered. 

"We will never speak about this again, if you please, dear, " saidIsabel Stewart, in a slightly tremulous tone. "I wished you to knowthe truth, but I cannot talk about it. I do not deny the affection;that is something over which I have no control; but I can at least say'thus far and no farther, ' for the sake of conscience andself-respect. Now, about that letter which was handed to you to-day, "she continued, suddenly changing the subject. "Suppose we look it overagain, and then I think it should go directly into the hands of Mr. Bryant. "

She had hardly finished speaking when there came a knock upon herdoor. 

Rising, she opened it, to find a servant standing without and waitingto deliver a card that lay upon a silver salver. 

Mrs. Stewart took it and read the name of Royal Bryant, together withthe following lines, written in pencil:

 "Will Mrs. Stewart kindly excuse this seeming intrusion of a stranger? but I understand that Miss Allandale is with you, and it is necessary that I have a few moments' conversation with her. 

 R. B. "

"Show the gentleman up, " the lady quietly remarked to the servant, then stepped back into the room and passed the card to Edith. 

The young girl's eyes lighted with sudden joy, and the quick colorflushed her cheeks, betraying how even the sight of Roy's name andhandwriting had power to move her. 

A few moments later there came another tap to tell her that her dearone was awaiting admittance, and she herself went to receive him. 

"Roy! I am so glad you have come!" she exclaimed, holding out bothhands to him, her face radiant with happiness. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

"MY DARLING, YOU ARE FREE!"

The young man regarded her with astonishment, for she had nevergreeted him so warmly before. 

Edith saw his look and met it with a blush. She took his hat, then ledhim directly to Mrs. Stewart. 

"Roy, you will be astonished, " she remarked, "but my first duty is tointroduce you to--my mother. "

With a look of blank amazement, the young man mechanically put out hishand to greet the beautiful woman who approached and graciouslywelcomed him. 

"That was rather an abrupt and startling announcement, Mr. Bryant, "she smilingly remarked, to cover his confusion; "but pray be seatedand we will soon explain the mysterious situation. "

"Pardon my bewilderment, " said the young man, as he bowed over herextended hand; "but really, ladies, I am free to confess that you havealmost taken my breath away. "

"Then you will know how to sympathize with us, " cried Edith, with asilvery little laugh, "for we have both been in the same conditionduring the last few hours. "

"Indeed! Then I must say you look very bright for a person who has notbreathed for 'hours, '" he retorted, as he began to recover himself. 

"Well, figuratively speaking, our respiration has been retarded manytimes, during a short interval, by the strangest developmentsimaginable, " Edith explained. "But how did you trace me to theWaldorf?"

"I had something important to tell you, so ran up to Nellie's to seeyou, but was told that you had accompanied Mrs. Stewart thither, " Royexplained. "I hope, however, I shall be pardoned for interrupting yourinterview, " he concluded with an apologetic glance at the elder lady. 

"Certainly; and, strange to say, we were speaking of you almost at themoment that your card was brought to us, " she returned. "Edith has hadan important communication handed her to-day, which I thought youought to have, since you are her attorney, without any unnecessarydelay. "

"Oh! it is most wonderful, Roy! This is it, " said the young girl, producing it from her pocket. "But first I must tell you that in Mrs. Stewart I have discovered mamma's old friend--the writer of thoseletters of which I told you. She did not die in Rome, as was feared. "

"Can that be possible?" exclaimed Mr. Bryant. 

"Yes, dear. It is a long story, and I cannot stop to tell it all now, "Edith went on, eagerly, "but I must explain that she has discovered animportant document that proves what makes me the happiest girl in NewYork to-day. We met at Mrs. Wallace's this afternoon, where some oneaddressed me as Miss Allandale, when she instantly knew that I must beher child. Isn't it all too wonderful to seem true?"

After chatting a little longer over the wonderful revelations, hesuddenly remembered the "important communication" which Mrs. Stewarthad mentioned. 

"What was the matter of business which you felt needed earlyconsideration?" he inquired. 

Instantly Edith's lovely face was suffused with blushes, and Mrs. Stewart, thinking it would be wise to leave the lovers alone duringthe forthcoming explanations, excused herself and quietly slipped intoan adjoining room. 

Edith immediately went to the young man's side and gave her letter tohim. 

"Roy, this is even more wonderful than what I have already told you, "she gravely remarked. "Read it; it will explain itself better than anywords of mine can do. "

He drew the contents from the envelope, and began at once to read thefollowing confession:

 "For the sake of performing one right act in my life, I wish to make the following statement, namely: I hereby declare that the marriage of my brother, Emil Correlli, to Miss Edith Allen, who, for several weeks, has acted as my companion, was not a legal ceremony, inasmuch as it was accomplished solely by fraud and treachery. Miss Allen was tricked into it by being overpersuaded to personate a supposed character in a play, entitled 'The Masked Bridal. ' The play was written and acted before a large audience for the sole purpose of deceiving Miss Allen and making her the wife of my brother, whom she had absolutely refused to marry, but who was determined to carry his point at all hazards. Motives of affection for him, and of jealousy, on account of my husband's apparent fondness for the girl, alone prompted me to aid him in his bold design. I hereby declare again that it was all a trick, from beginning to end, and it was only by my indomitable will, and by working upon Miss Allen's sympathies, that I was enabled to carry out my purpose. " (Then followed a detailed account of the plot of the play and its concluding ceremony, after which the document closed as follows): "I am impressed that I have not long to live; and wishing, if it can be done, to right this great wrong, and make it possible for the proper officials to declare Miss Allen freed from her bonds, I make this confession of a fraud that weighs too heavily upon my conscience to be borne. 

 "ANNA CORRELLI GODDARD. "

The above was dated the day previous to that of madam's death, andunderneath she had appended a few lines to Mr. Goddard, stating thatshe knew he was in sympathy with Edith; therefore she should leave theepistle with her lawyer, to be given to him, in the event of herdeath, and she enjoined him to see that justice was done the girl whomshe had injured. 

This was the missive that the lawyer had passed to Mr. Goddard at thesame time that he had read the woman's will in the presence of herhusband and Emil Correlli, and over which, as we have seen, heafterward became so strangely agitated. 

We know how he had hurriedly removed from his former elegant home to ahabitation on another street; after which, instead of going abroad, asthe papers had stated, he had gone directly to New York, upon the samequest as Emil Correlli, but with a very different purpose inview--that of giving to Edith the precious document that was todeclare her free from the man whom she loathed. 

He could get no trace of her, however; unlike Correlli, he had noknowledge of her acquaintance with Royal Bryant, and therefore all hecould do was to carry the letter about with him, wherever he went, inthe hope of some day meeting her upon the street, or elsewhere. 

One day he was out at Central Park, when he suddenly came upon aformer friend--Mrs. Wallace--who immediately announced to him herintention of arranging a charitable art exhibition and solicitedcontributions from him to aid her in the good work. 

Thus the appearance of that bit of old "Roman Wall" is accounted for, as well as the presence of Mr. Goddard himself, who was particularlyrequested by Mrs. Wallace to honor the occasion, and allow her tointroduce him to some of her friends. 

It would be difficult to describe the terrible shock which the mansustained when he heard Edith addressed by and respond to thename--Miss Allandale. 

Like a flash of light it was revealed to him that the beautiful girlwas his own daughter!--that, in her, he had, for months, been"entertaining an angel unawares, " but only to abuse his privilege in away to reap her lasting contempt and aversion. 

This blighting knowledge was followed by a sense of sickening despairand misery, when, almost at the same moment, he saw Isabel Stewartstart forward to claim her child and lead her from the room, when heknew she must learn the wretched truth regarding his life ofselfishness and sin. 

As they disappeared from sight, he sank back behind the easel thatsupported his Roman picture, groaning in spirit with remorse andhumiliation. 

A little later he stole unseen from the room, and, crossing the hall, opened the door of the reception-room, which he had seen Edith and hermother enter. 

He had determined to give the young girl the letter that would serveto release her from her hateful fetters; he would, perhaps, experiencesome comfort in the thought that he had rendered her this one simpleservice that would bring her happiness; then he would go away--hidehimself and his misery from all who knew him, and live out his futureto what purpose he could. 

We know how he carried out his resolve regarding the confession ofAnna Correlli; and the picture which met his eye, as he opened thatdoor and looked upon the mother and daughter clasped in each other'sarms, was one that haunted his memory during the rest of his life. 

As soon as Royal Bryant comprehended the import of Anna Correlli'sconfession, he turned to Edith with a radiant face and open arms. 

"My darling! nothing can keep us apart now!" he murmured, in tonesvibrant with joy, "you are free--free as the air you breathe--free togive yourself to me! Come!"

With a smile of love and happiness Edith sprang into his embrace andlaid her face upon his breast. 

"Oh, Roy!" she breathed, "all this seems too much joy to be real or tobe borne in one day!"

"I think we can manage to endure it, " returned her lover, with a fondsmile. "I confess, however, that it seems like a day especiallydedicated to blessings, for I have other good news for you. "

"Can it be possible? What more could I ask, or even think of?"exclaimed Edith, wonderingly. 

Roy smiled mysteriously, and returned, with a roguish gleam in hiseyes:

"My news will keep a while--until you give me the pledge I crave, mydarling. You will be my wife, Edith?" he added, with tenderearnestness. 

"You know that I will, Roy, " she whispered; and, lifting her face tohis, their mutual vows were sealed by their betrothal caress. 

The young man drew from an inner pocket a tiny circlet of gold inwhich there blazed a flawless stone, clear as a drop of dew, andslipped it upon the third finger of Edith's left hand. 

"I have had it ever since the day after your arrival in New York, " hesmilingly remarked, "but coward conscience would not allow me to giveit to you; however, it will prove to you that I was lacking in neitherfaith nor hope. "

"Now for my good news, " he added, after Edith had thanked him, in ashy, sweet way that thrilled him anew, while he gently drew her to aseat. "I met Giulia Fiorini on the street this afternoon. "

"Oh, Roy! did you?"

"Yes; she is here, searching for Correlli. I recognized her and thechild from your description. I boldly resolved to address her, as Ifeared it might be my only opportunity. I did so, asking if I wasright in supposing her to be Madam Fiorini, and told her that I wassearching for her, at your request. She almost wept at the sound ofyour name, and eagerly inquired where she could find you. I took herto my office, where I told her what I wished to prove regarding herrelations with Correlli, and that, if I could accomplish my purpose, it would give her and the child a claim upon him which he could notignore. She at once frankly related her story to me, and stated thatwhen they had first arrived in New York from Italy, Correlli had takenher to Madam ----'s boarding-house, where he had made arrangements forhimself, wife and child--"

"Oh, then that settles the question of her claim upon him!" Edith hereinterposed, eagerly. 

"Yes--if we can prove her statements, and I think we can; for when Itold Giulia of my visit to madam, and how I had failed to elicit theslightest information from her, she said that she knew where one ofthe servants--who was in the house when she went there--could befound, for she had stumbled across the girl in the street and learnedwhere she is now living. She gave me her address, and I wentimmediately to interview her. Luck was in my favor--the girl was athome, and remembered the 'pretty Italian girl, who was so sweet-spokenand polite;' she also knew where her previous fellow-servant could befound, and asserted that they would both be willing to swear thatmadam herself had told them to 'always to be very attentive to thehandsome Italian's wife, for she made more out of them than out of anyof her other boarders. ' So, I flatter myself that I have gatheredconclusive evidence against the man, " Roy added, in a tone ofsatisfaction. "I shall interview Monsieur Correlli at once, andperhaps, when he realizes that his supposed claim upon you is null andvoid, he may be persuaded to do what is right regarding his wife andchild. "

The lovers then fell to talking of their own affairs, Edith relatingwhat she had so recently learned from her mother, and concluded bymentioning the plan of readoption, suggested by Mrs. Stewart, in orderto avoid the gossip of the world. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 

The morning following his conference with his betrothed, our younglawyer went early to seek an interview with Emil Correlli. 

He was fortunate enough to find him at the hotel where he had told himhe could be found if wanted. 

In a few terse sentences he stated the object of his visit, cited theevidence he possessed of Correlli's bigamous exploit, and thenstartled that audacious person by summarizing the contents of the lateMrs. Goddard's confession. 

"If you are not already sure of the fact, " the lawyer emphaticallyadded, "allow me to inform you that your sister was never the wife ofMr. Gerald Goddard, as that gentleman had been married previous to hismeeting with Miss Correlli. It was supposed that his first wife wasdrowned in Rome, but the report was false, as the woman is stillliving. "

"I do not believe it, " angrily exclaimed Emil Correlli, and yet, inhis heart, he felt that it was true, for it but verified his ownprevious suspicions. "I tell you it is all a lie, for Goddard himselftold me, only two days after my sister's death, that, if I chose tolook, I would find the record of his marriage to her in the books ofthe ---- Church in Rome. "

"That is true; Mr. Goddard supposed the marriage to have been legal, because, at the time he deserted his lovely wife for Miss Correlli, hedid not know that he was lawfully bound to her. But, later, both heand your sister learned the truth, and the secret of their unfortunaterelations embittered the lives of both, especially after theydiscovered that the real Mrs. Goddard is still living, " Roy exclaimed. 

"How do you know this?" hoarsely demanded his companion. 

"I have recently seen and conversed with Mrs. Goddard, and all thefacts of her history are in my possession. "

"Who is she? Under what name is she known?"

"That is a question that I must refuse to answer, as the revelation ofthe lady's identity cannot affect the case in hand; unless--it shouldcome before the courts and the truth be forced from me, " Roy replied. 

"Then why have you told me this wretched story?" cried the man, almostsavagely. 

"A lawyer, in fighting his cases, is often obliged to use a variety ofweapons, " was the significant response. "I thought it might be just aswell to warn you, at the outset, that your sister's reputation mightsuffer in the event of a lawsuit, during which much might be revealedwhich otherwise would remain a secret among ourselves. "

To convince Correlli of the truth of his disclosures Mr. Bryantannounced that he had in his possession, at that moment, a copy ofMrs. Goddard's confession, and proceeded to read it, having firstdeclared that the original was in his office safe. 

Emil Correlli, was ghastly white when Roy stopped, after reading theentire confession. He realized that his case was hopeless; that he hadbeen ignominiously defeated in his scheme to possess Edith, andnothing remained to him but to submit to the inevitable. 

"Now I have just one question to ask you, Mr. Correlli, " Roy remarked, as he refolded the paper and laid it upon the table for him to examineat his leisure. "What is your decision? Will you still contest thepoint of Miss Allandale's freedom, or will you quietly withdraw yourclaim, and allow it to be publicly announced, through the Bostonpapers, that that ceremony in Wyoming was simply a farce after all?"

"You leave me no choice, " was the sullen response; "but, " with amurderous gleam in his dusky eyes, "if you had brought the originalconfession with you to-day, you would never have gone out of thishouse with it in your possession. "

"Excuse me for contradicting you, sir; but I think I should, " Royreturned, with the utmost courtesy. "I took all proper precautionsbefore coming to you, as it was--although not because of any personalfear of you. No less than three persons in this house, and as manymore outside, know of my visit to you at this hour. And, now, sinceyou have decided to yield to my requirements, I have here some papersfor you to sign. "

He drew them forth as he spoke, spreading them out upon the table, after which he arose and touched the electric button over the mantel. 

"What is that for?" curtly demanded his companion. 

"To summon witnesses to your signature to these documents. "

"Your assurance is something refreshing, " sneered the elder man. "Howdo you know that I will sign them?"

"I feel very sure that you will, Mr. Correlli, " was the quietrejoinder; "for, in the event of your refusal, there is an officer inwaiting to arrest you upon the two serious charges before mentioned. "

The baffled man snarled in impotent rage; but before he could frame aretort, there came a knock on the door. 

Roy answered it, and bade the servant without to "show up thegentlemen who were waiting in the office. "

Five minutes later they appeared, when Emil Correlli, without a demur, signed the papers which Roy had brought and now read aloud in theirpresence. 

His signature was then duly witnessed by them, after which theywithdrew, Mr. Bryant's clerk, who was one of the number, taking thedocuments with him. 

Roy, however, remained behind. 

"Mr. Correlli, " he said, as soon as the door closed, "I have one morerequest to make of you, before I leave; it is that you will openlyacknowledge as your wife the woman you have wronged, and thus bestowupon your child the name which it is his right to bear. "

"I will see them both--"

"Hush!" sternly interrupted Roy, before he could complete hispassionate sentence. "I simply wish to give you the opportunity to dowhat is right, of your own free will. If you refuse, I shall do myutmost to compel you; and, mark my words, it can be done. That womanand her child are justly entitled to your name and support, and theyshall have their rights, even though you may never look upon theirfaces again. I give you just one week to think over the matter. Youcan leave the country if you choose, and thus escape appearing incourt; but you doubtless know what will happen if you do--the casewill go by default, and Giulia and Ino will come off victors. "

The man knew that what the lawyer said was true, but he was so enragedover his inability to help himself that he was utterly reckless, andcried out, fiercely:

"Do your worst--I defy you to the last! And now, the quicker yourelieve me of your presence the better I shall like it. "

The young lawyer took up his hat, bowed politely to his defeated foe, and quietly left the room, very well satisfied with the result of hismorning's work. 

All the necessary forms of law were complied with to release Edithfrom even a seeming alliance with the man who had been so determinedto win her. 

An announcement was inserted in the Boston papers explaining as muchas was deemed necessary, and thus the fair girl was free!--free togive herself to him whom her heart had chosen. 

Then she was formally adopted by Mrs. Stewart, the old schoolmate ofthe late Mrs. Allandale, and a little later, when they were settled intheir elegant residence on one of the fashionable avenues, society wasbidden to a great feast to honor the new relationship and tocongratulate the charming hostess and her beautiful daughter, who wasthus restored to a position she was so well fitted to grace. 

At the same time Edith's engagement to the young lawyer was announced, and it seemed to the happy young couple as if the future held for themonly visions of joy. 

True to his promise, Roy gave Emil Correlli the week specified todecide either for or against Giulia; then, not having heard from him, he instituted proceedings to establish her claim upon him. 

Correlli did not appear to defend himself, consequently the courtindorsed her petition and awarded her a handsome maintenance. 

Once only Gerald Goddard met his daughter after she learned the factsrelating to her birth and parentage. 

They suddenly came face to face, one morning, in one of the up-townparks. He looked ill and wretched; his hair had become white as snow, his face thin and pale, and his clothing hung loosely about him. 

"Pardon me, " he began, in uncertain tones, while he searched her facewistfully. "No doubt you despise me too thoroughly to wish to hold anyintercourse with me; still, I feel that I must tell you how deeply Iregret, and ask your pardon for, what occurred in the dressing-room atWyoming on the last night of that 'winter frolic. '"

Edith's tender heart could not fail to experience a feeling ofsympathy for the proud man in his humiliated and broken state. Remembering that it was through him that her blessed freedom from EmilCorrelli and her present happiness had come, she forced herself torespond in a gentle tone:

"I have always felt, Mr. Goddard, that you were not fully conscious ofwhat you were saying to me at that time. "

"I was not, " he eagerly returned, his face lighting a trifle that sheshould judge him thus leniently. "I had been drinking too much; still, that fact should, perhaps, also be a cause for shame. Pray assure meof your pardon for what I can never forgive myself. "

"Certainly; I have no right to withhold it, in view of your apology, "she responded. 

"Thank you; and--and may I presume to ask you one question more?" hepleaded. 

Edith's heart leaped into her throat at this, for she was impressedwith a knowledge and a dread of what was coming. 

For the moment she could not speak--she could only bow her assent tohis request. 

"I want to ask if--if, since you left my house, you have learnedanything regarding my previous history?" he inquired, with pale lips. 

"Yes, " she said, sadly, "I know it all. My mother told me only becauseI demanded the truth. She would have preferred to keep some thingsfrom me, for your sake as well as mine, but I could not be satisfiedwith any partial disclosure. "

"How you must hate me!" the man burst forth, while great drops ofagony gathered about his mouth. 

He had never believed that a human being could suffer as he sufferedat that moment, in knowing that by his own vileness he had foreverbarred himself outside the affections of this lovely girl, toward whomhe had always--since the first hour of their meeting--been strangelyattracted, and whose love and respect, now that he knew she was hisown child, seemed the most priceless boons that earth could hold forhim. 

At first Edith could make no reply to his passionate outburst. 

"No, " she said, at last, and lifting a regretful look to him, "I hopethat there is not an atom of 'hate' in my heart toward any humanbeing, especially toward any one who might experience an honest, though late, repentance for misdeeds. "

"Ah! thank you; then have you not some word of comfort--some messageof peace for me?" tremulously pleaded the once haughty, self-sufficient man, while he half extended his hands toward her, in agesture of entreaty. 

Her lips quivered, and tears sprang involuntarily to her eyes, whileit was only after a prolonged effort that she was able to respond. 

"Yes, " she said, at last, a solemn sweetness in her unsteady tones, "the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee and give thee peace. "

She often wondered afterward how it happened that those words ofblessing, once uttered by a patriarch of old, should have slippedalmost unconsciously from her lips. 

She did not even wait to note their effect upon her companion, but, gliding swiftly past him, went on her way. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

CONCLUSION. 

Three months after the incidents related in our previous chapter alarge and fashionable audience assembled, one bright day, in a certainchurch on Madison avenue to witness a marriage that had beenanticipated with considerable interest and curiosity among the smartset. 

Exactly at the last stroke of noon the bridal party passed down thecentral aisle. 

It was composed of four ushers, as many bridesmaids a maid of honorand two stately, graceful figures in snow-white apparel. 

One of these latter was a veiled bride, her tall, willowy figure cladin gleaming satin, her golden head crowned with natural orangeblossoms, and she carried an exquisite bouquet of the same fragrantflowers in her ungloved hands--for the groom had forbidden theconventional white kids in this ceremony--while on her lovely facethere was a light and sweetness which only perfect happiness couldhave painted there. 

Her companion, a woman of regal presence and equally beautiful in herway, was clothed in costly white velvet, richly garnished with pearlsand rare old point lace. 

The fair bride and her attendant were no other than Isabel Stewart andher daughter. 

"Who should give away my darling save her own mother?" she hadquestioned, with smiling but tremulous lips, when this matter wasbeing discussed, together with other preparations for the wedding. 

Edith was delighted with the idea, and thus it was carried out in theway described. 

The party was met at the chancel by Roy, accompanied by his best manand the clergyman, where the ceremony was impressively performed, after which the happy couple led the way from the church with thosesweetest strains of Mendelssohn beating their melodious rhythm upontheir ears and joyful hearts. 

It was an occasion for only smiles and gladness; but, away in a dimcorner of that vast edifice, there sat a solitary figure, with bowedhead and pale face, over which--as there fell upon his ears thosesolemn words, "till death us do part"--hot tears streamed like rain. 

The figure was Gerald Goddard. He had read the announcement of Edith'smarriage in the papers, and, with an irresistible yearning to see herin her bridal robes, he had stolen into the church with the crowd, andhidden himself where he could see without being seen. 

But the scene was too much for him, for, as he watched that peerlesswoman and her beautiful daughter move down the aisle, and listened tothe reverent responses of the young couple, there came to him, withterrible force, the consciousness that if he had been true to the samevows which he had once taken upon himself he need not now have beenshut out of this happy scene, like some lost soul shut out of heaven. 

But no one heeded him; and, when the ceremony was over, he slippedaway as secretly as he had come, and no one dreamed that the father ofthe beautiful bride had been an unbidden guest at her wedding. 

In giving Edith to Roy Mrs. Stewart had begged that she need not beseparated from her newly recovered treasure--that for the present, atleast, they would make their home with her--or, rather, that theywould take the house, which was to be a part of Edith's dowry, andallow her to remain with them as their guest. 

This they were only too glad to do; therefore, after a delightfulwedding trip through the West, they came back to their elegant home, where, with every luxury at their command, the future seemed topromise unlimited happiness. 

Poor Louis Raymond had failed very rapidly during the spring months;indeed, he was not even able to attend the marriage of the girl forwhom he had formed a strong attachment, and who had bestowed upon himmany gracious attentions and services that had greatly brightened hislast days. He passed quietly away only a few weeks after their returnto New York. 

One day, a couple of months after her marriage, Edith was about tostep into her carriage, on coming out of a store on Broadway, whereshe had been shopping, when she was startled by excited shouts andcries directly across the street from her. 

Turning to see what had caused the commotion, she saw a heavily loadedteam just toppling over, while a man, who had been in the act ofcrossing the street, was borne down under it, and, with a shriek whichshe never forgot, apparently crushed to death. 

Sick and faint with horror, she crept into her carriage, and orderedher driver to get away from the dreadful scene as soon as possible. 

That same evening, as she was looking over the _Telegram_, a low cryof astonishment broke from her, as she read the following paragraph:

"A sad accident occurred on Broadway this morning. A carelessly loadedteam was overturned by its own top-heaviness as it was rounding thecorner of Twenty-ninth street, crushing beneath its cruel weight thetalented young sculptor, Emil Correlli. Both legs were broken, one intwo places, and it is feared that he has suffered fatal internalinjuries. He was taken in an unconscious state to the RooseveltHospital, where he now lies hovering between life and death. Thesurgeons have little hope of his recovery. "

Edith was greatly shocked by the account, notwithstanding her aversionto the man. 

She had not supposed that he was in the city, for Roy believed that hehad left the country, rather than appear to defend himself againstGiulia's claims, and to escape paying the damages the court awardedher, after proclaiming her his lawful wife. 

The woman had since been supporting herself and her child by designingand making dainty costumes for children, a vocation to which sheseemed especially adapted, and by which she was making a good living, through the recommendation of both Mrs. Stewart and Edith. 

The day after the accident Roy, on his way home from his office, prompted by a feeling of humanity, went to the Roosevelt Hospital toinquire for the injured man. 

The surgeon looked grave when he made known his errand. 

"There is hardly a ray of hope for him, " he remarked; "he is stillunconscious. Do you know anything about him or his family?" he asked, with sudden interest. 

"Yes, I have had some acquaintance with him, " Roy returned. 

"Do you know his wife?" the man pursued. "A woman came here lastevening, claiming to be his wife, and insisting upon remaining by hisbedside as long as he should live. "

"Yes, he has a wife, " the young man briefly returned, but deeplytouched by this evidence of Giulia's devotion. 

"Is she a dark, foreign-looking lady, of medium height, ratherhandsome, and with a slight accent in her speech?"

"That answers exactly to her description. "

"I am glad to know it, for we have been in some doubt as to thepropriety of allowing her to remain with our patient. We tried to makeher leave him, last night, even threatening to have her forciblyremoved; but she simply would not go, and is remarkably handy inassisting the nurse, while her self-control is simply wonderful. "

Roy wrote a few lines on one of his cards, saying that if either he orMrs. Bryant could be of any service at this trying time, she might befree to call upon them. 

This he gave to the surgeon to hand to Giulia, and then went away. 

The following evening the woman made her appearance in their home withher child, whom she begged them to care for "as long as Emil shouldlive. "

It could not be very long, she said, with streaming eyes. She lovedhim still, in spite of everything, and she must remain with him whilehe breathed. 

Edith willingly received Ino, saying she would be glad to keep him aslong as was necessary; then Giulia went immediately back to her sadvigils beside the man who had caused her nothing but sorrow and shame. 

But Emil Correlli did not die. 

Very slowly and painfully he came back to life--to an existence, rather, from which he would gladly have escaped when he realized whatit was to be. 

When he first awakened to consciousness it was to find a pale, patientwoman beside him--one who met his sighs and moans with gentlesympathy, and who ministered tirelessly to his every need and comfort. 

No other hand was so cool and soft upon his heated head, or so deft toarrange his covers and pillows; no voice was so gently modulated yetso invariably cheerful--no step so quick and light; and, though thequerulous invalid often frowned upon her, and chided her sharply forimaginary remissness, she never wavered in her sweetness andgentleness. 

Thus, little by little, the selfish man grew to appreciate her and toyearn for her presence, if she was forced to be out of his sight foreven a few minutes at a time. 

"She has saved your life--she has almost forced life upon you, " thesurgeon remarked to him one day, when, as he came to make hisaccustomed visit, Giulia slipped away for a moment of rest and abreath of fresh air. 

The invalid frowned. It was not exactly pleasant to be told that heowed such a debt of gratitude to the woman he had wronged. He was toocallous to experience very much of gratitude as yet. It was only whenhe was pronounced well enough to be moved, and informed that he mustmake arrangements to be cared for outside, in order to make room formore urgent cases, that he began to wonder how he should get alongwithout his faithful nurse and to realize how dependent he was uponher. 

He knew that he would be a cripple for life; his broken bones hadknitted nicely, and his limbs would be as sound as ever, in time; buthis spine had been injured, and he would never walk uprightagain--henceforth he would only be able to get about upon crutches. 

How, then, could he live without some one to wait upon him and bearwith him in his future state of helplessness?

"Where shall I go?" he questioned, querulously, when, later, he toldGiulia that his removal had been ordered. "A hotel is the most dismalplace in the world for a sick man. "

"Emil, how would you like a home of your own?" Giulia gravelyinquired. 

The word "home" thrilled him strangely, making him think yearningly ofhis mother and the comforts of his childhood, and an irresistiblelonging took possession of him. 

"A home!" he repeated, bitterly. "How on earth could I make a home formyself?"

"I will make it for you--I will go to take care of you in it, if youlike, " she quietly answered. 

"You!" he exclaimed in surprise, while, with sudden discernment, heremarked a certain refined beauty in her face that he had neverobserved before. 

Then he added, with a sullen glance at his useless limbs, a strangesense of shame creeping over him:

"Do you still care enough for me to take that trouble?"

"I am willing to do my duty, Emil, " she gravely replied. 

"Ha! you evade me!" he cried, sharply, and piqued by her answer. "Tellme truly, Giulia, do you still love me well enough to be willing todevote your life to such a misshapen wretch as I shall always be?"

The woman turned her face away from him, to hide the sudden light ofhope that leaped into her eyes at his words, which she fancied had inthem a note of appeal. 

But she had been learning wisdom during her long weeks of service inthe hospital--learning that anything, to be appreciated, must behardly won; and so she answered as before, without betraying a sign ofthe eager desire that had taken root in her heart:

"I told you, Emil, that I was willing to do my duty. I bear yourname--you are Ino's father--my proper place is in your home; and ifyou see fit to decide that we shall all live together under the sameroof, I will do my utmost to make you comfortable, and your future aspleasant as possible. More than that I cannot promise--now. "

"And you really mean this, Giulia?" he questioned, in a low tone. 

"Yes, if my proposal meets with your approval, we can at least makethe experiment. If it should not prove a success, we can easilyabandon it whenever you choose. "

He knew that he could not do without her--knew that she had become soessential to him that he was appalled at the mere thought of losingher, while the sound of that magic word "home, " around which clusteredeverything that was comfortable and attractive, opened before him thepromise of something better than he had ever yet known in life. 

Let us slip over the six months following, to find this little familypleasantly settled in an elegant villa a few miles up the Hudson. 

It is replete with every luxury that money can purchase. 

The choicest in art of every description decorates its walls, andpleasant, sunny rooms, while in a spacious studio, opening out upon awide lawn, may be seen numerous unfinished pieces of statuary, uponwhich the crippled but ambitious master of the house has already begunto work, although his strength will permit him to do but little at atime. 

Giulia, or "Madame Correlli, " as she is now known, is the presidinggenius of this ideal spot, and she fills her place with both dignityand grace; while her watchful care and never-failing patience andcheerfulness are beginning to assert their charm upon the man to whomshe is devoting herself, as is noticeable in his many efforts to makelife pleasant to her, in his frequent appeals to her judgment andapproval of his work, and the courtesy which he invariably accordsher. 

Ino has grown, although he is still a beautiful child--very bright andforward for his age, and a source of great enjoyment to his father, who, even now, has begun to direct his tiny hands in the use of themallet and chisel. 

 * * * * *

It was more than a year after her marriage that Edith, accompanied byher mother, visited the annual exhibition of the ---- Academy of Art. 

Among the numerous pictures which were shown there were two whichattracted more attention than all the others. They were evidentlyintended as companion-pieces, and had been painted by the same artist. 

The scene was laid in an avenue of a park. On either side there grewbeautiful, great trees, whose widespread branches made gracefulshadows on the graveled walk beneath. In the center of this avenue--inthe first picture--two figures stood facing each other; one an elderlyman, proud and haughty in his bearing, richly dressed and with acertain air of the world investing him, but with a face--althoughpossessing great natural beauty--so wretched and full of remorse, solined and seamed with soul-anguish, that the heart of every beholderwas instantly moved to deepest sympathy. 

Before him stood a beautiful maiden who was the embodiment of all thatwas pure and happy. Her face was lovely beyond description--its everyfeature perfect, its expression full of sweetness and peace, while adivine pity and yearning shone forth from her heavenly blue eyes, which were upraised to the despairing countenance of her companion. 

Her dress was simple white, belted at the waist with a girdle andflowing ends of gleaming satin ribbon, while a dainty straw hat, fromwhich a single white plume drooped gracefully, crowned her goldenhead. 

The gentleman was standing with outstretched hands, as if in the actof making some appeal to the fair girl, whose grave sweetness, whileit suggested no yielding, yet indicated pity and sorrow for theother's suffering. 

The second picture presented the same figures, but its import wasentirely different. 

Away down the avenue, the young girl, looking even more fair andgraceful, was just passing out of sight, while the gentleman hadturned and was gazing after her, a rapt expression on his face, themisery all obliterated from it, the despair all gone from his eyes, while in their place there had dawned a look of resignation and peace, and a faint smile even seemed to hover about the previously pain-linedmouth, which told that he had just learned some lesson from hisvanishing angel that had changed the whole future for him. 

As Edith looked upon these paintings, which betrayed a master-hand inevery stroke of the brush, a rush of tears blinded her eyes, for sheinstantly recognized the scene, although there had been no attempt atportraiture in the faces, and she read at once the story they wereintended to reveal. 

They were catalogued as "Unrest" and "Peace. "

She knew, even before she discovered the initials--"G. G. "--in onecorner, that Gerald Goddard had painted these pictures, and that hehad taken for his subject their meeting in the park the previous year. 

They took the first prize, and the artist immediately receivednumerous and flattering offers for them, but his agent replied to allsuch that the pictures were not for sale. 

A month later a sealed package was delivered at Edith's door, and itwas addressed to her. 

Upon opening it she found a document bequeathing to her two paintings, lately exhibited at the Academy, which would be delivered to her uponapplication to a certain art dealer in the city, whose address wasinclosed. The communication stated that she was free to make whateverdisposition of them she saw fit. 

Upon a heavy card accompanying them there was written the followingwords:

 "The blessing of Aaron has been fulfilled. May the same peace rest upon thee and thine forever. G. G. "

Upon inquiring about the pictures of the dealer referred to, Edith wasinformed that Gerald Goddard had died only the week previous of quickconsumption, and his body had been quietly interred in Greenwood, according to his own instructions. 

His two paintings, "Unrest" and "Peace, " were left in the care of hisfriend, to be delivered to Mrs. Royal Bryant, whenever she should callfor them. 

Edith was deeply touched by this act, and by the fact that the man haddevoted the remnant of his life to picturing that scene which seemedto have made such a deep impression upon his mind, while a feeling ofthankfulness swelled in her heart with the thought that perhaps shehad spoken the "word in season" that had helped to lead into the"paths of peace" the weary worlding, who, even then, was treading soswiftly toward the verge of the "Great Unknown. "

Not many weeks later the New York _Herald_ contained the followingannouncement:

 "MARRIED. --On Wednesday, the 18th, the Honorable Willard Livermore to Mrs. Isabel Stewart, both of New York. "

 THE END. 

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RICHELIEU. A tale of France in the reign of King Louis XIII. By G. P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. With four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1. 00. 

In 1829 Mr. James published his first romance, "Richelieu, " and wasrecognized at once as one of the masters of the craft. 

In this book he laid the story during those later days of the greatcardinal's life, when his power was beginning to wane, but while itwas yet sufficiently strong to permit now and then of volcanicoutbursts which overwhelmed foes and carried friends to the topmostwave of prosperity. One of the most striking portions of the story isthat of Cinq Mar's conspiracy; the method of conducting criminalcases, and the political trickery resorted to by royal favorites, affording a better insight into the state-craft of that day than canbe had even by an exhaustive study of history. It is a powerfulromance of love and diplomacy, and in point of thrilling and absorbinginterest has never been excelled. 

ROB OF THE BOWL. A Story of the Early Days of Maryland. By John P. Kennedy. Cloth, 12mo. Four page illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1. 00. 

This story is an authentic exposition of the manners and customsduring Lord Baltimore's rule. The greater portion of the action takesplace in St. Mary's--the original capital of the State. 

The quaint character of Rob, the loss of whose legs was supplied by awooden bowl strapped to his thighs, his misfortunes and mother wit, far outshine those fair to look upon. Pirates and smugglers did Robconsort with for gain, and it was to him that Blanche Werden owed herlife and her happiness, as the author has told us in such anenchanting manner. 

As a series of pictures of early colonial life in Maryland, "Rob ofthe Bowl" has no equal. The story is full of splendid action, with acharming love story, and a plot that never loosens the grip of itsinterest to its last page. 

TICONDEROGA. A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley. ByG. P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. Four page illustrations by J. WatsonDavis. Price, $1. 00. 

The setting of the story is decidedly more picturesque than any everevolved by Cooper. The story is located on the frontier of New YorkState. The principal characters in the story include an Englishgentleman, his beautiful daughter, Lord Howe, and certain Indiansachems belonging to the Five Nations, and the story ends with theBattle of Ticonderoga. 

The character of Captain Brooks, who voluntarily decides to sacrificehis own life in order to save the son of the Englishman, is not amongthe least of the attractions of this story, which holds the attentionof the reader even to the last page. 

Interwoven with the plot is the Indian "blood" law, which demands alife for a life, whether it be that of the murderer or one of hisrace. A more charming story of mingled love and adventure has neverbeen written than "Ticonderoga. "

MARY DERWENT. A tale of the Wyoming Valley in 1778. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. Cloth, 12mo. Four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1. 00. 

The scene of this fascinating story of early frontier life is laid inthe Valley of Wyoming. Aside from Mary Derwent, who is of course theheroine, the story deals with Queen Esther's son, Giengwatah, theButlers of notorious memory, and the adventures of the Colonists withthe Indians. 

Though much is made of the Massacre of Wyoming, a great portion of thetale describes the love making between Mary Derwent's sister, WalterButler, and one of the defenders of Forty Fort. 

This historical novel stands out bright and pleasing, because of themystery and notoriety of several of the actors, the tender lovescenes, descriptions of the different localities, and the struggles ofthe settlers. It holds the attention of the reader, even to the lastpage. 

THE LAST TRAIL. A story of early days in the Ohio Valley. By ZaneGrey. Cloth, 12mo. Four page illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1. 00. 

"The Last Trail" is a story of the border. The scene is laid at FortHenry, where Col. Ebenezer Zane with his family have built up avillage despite the attacks of savages and renegades. The Colonel'sbrother and Wetzel, known as Deathwind by the Indians, are thebordermen who devote their lives to the welfare of the white people. Asplendid love story runs through the book. 

That Helen Sheppard, the heroine, should fall in love with such abrave, skilful scout as Jonathan Zane seems only reasonable after hisyears of association and defense of the people of the settlement fromsavages and renegades. 

If one has a liking for stories of the trail, where the white manmatches brains against savage cunning, for tales of ambush andconstant striving for the mastery, "The Last Trail" will be greatly tohis liking. 

THE KNIGHTS OF THE HORSESHOE. A traditionary tale of the Cocked HatGentry in the Old Dominion. By Dr. Wm. A. Caruthers. Cloth, 12mo. Fourpage illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1. 00. 

Many will hail with delight the re-publication of this rare and justlyfamous story of early American colonial life and old-time Virginianhospitality. 

Much that is charmingly interesting will be found in this tale that sofaithfully depicts early American colonial life, and also here isfound all the details of the founding of the Tramontane Order, aroundwhich has ever been such a delicious flavor of romance. 

Early customs, much love making, plantation life, politics, intrigues, and finally that wonderful march across the mountains which resultedin the discovery and conquest of the fair Valley of Virginia. A rarebook filled with a delicious Savor of romance. 

BY BERWEN BANKS. A Romance of Welsh Life. By Allen Raine. Cloth, 12mo. Four page illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1. 00. 

It is a tender and beautiful romance of the idyllic. A charmingpicture of life in a Welsh seaside village. It is something of aprose-poem, true, tender and graceful. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price bythe publishers, A. L. BURT COMPANY, 52-58 Duane St. , New York. 

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