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.