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."