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 fai
thful 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.