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 private
ly 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."