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 th
is 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.