"Good Heaven! who was that?" he cried, with livid lips.

But Edith, taking advantage of the diversion, glided swiftly from the room, telling herself that nothing could induce her to dwell with the family a single day after their return to the city, and that she would take care not to come in contact with Mr. G.o.ddard again--at least to be alone with him--while she did remain with his wife.

The man stood motionless for a moment after her departure, as if waiting for the sound, which had so startled him, to be repeated.

But it was not, and going to the door, he peered into the hall to see who was there.

There was no one visible save the housekeeper, who just at that moment, accosted a housemaid, to whom she appeared to be giving some directions.

"Ah! it was only one of the guests," he muttered, "but the voice was wonderfully like--like--Ugh!"

He waited a few moments longer, trying to compose his nerves, which had been sadly unstrung, both by the wine he had drank in much larger quant.i.ties than usual, and the incidents that had just occurred, and then sought his own room, where he rang for a brandy-and-soda, and after taking it, went below to attend to his duties as host.

But neither he nor Edith dreamed that their recent interview had been observed by a third party, or had seen the white, convulsed face that had been looking in upon them, between the blinds at one of the windows, near which they had been standing.

Anna G.o.ddard had sought her own room, directly after dinner, to make some little change in her toilet, and get her gloves, which she had left lying upon her dressing case.

As she opened the door of her boudoir she came very near giving utterance to a scream of fear upon coming face to face with a man.

The man was Emil Correlli, who had gained entrance to the apartment by climbing the vine trellis which led to the window. His secret return was in accordance with a plan previously agreed upon.

He informed his sister that he had sent a card of invitation to Mrs.

Stewart of the Copley Square Hotel.

"I am glad you did," she responded; "I have long desired to meet her."

They then proceeded to discuss the important event of the evening, and Mrs. G.o.ddard a.s.sured him that their plot was progressing admirably.

Still, she manifested a twinge of remorse as she thought of the despicable trick she had devised against the fair girl whom her brother was so eager to possess.

"Anna, you must not fail me now!" he exclaimed, "or I will never forgive you! The girl must be mine, or--"

"Hush!" she interposed, holding up her finger to check him. "Did some one knock?"

"I heard nothing."

"Wait, I will see," she said, and cautiously opened the door. No one was there.

"It was only a false alarm," she murmured, glancing down the hall; then she started, as if stung, as she caught sight of two figures in the room diagonally opposite hers.

Her face grew ghastly, but her eyes blazed with a tiger-like ferocity.

She closed the door noiselessly, then with stealthy, cat-like movements, she stole toward the French door, leading out upon the veranda, throwing a long mantle over her light dress and bare shoulders. Then she pa.s.sed out, and crept along the veranda toward a window of the room where her husband and Edith were talking.

She could see them distinctly through the slats of the blinds, which were movable--could see the man bending toward the graceful girl, whom she had never seen so beautiful as now, his face eager, a wistful light burning in his eyes, while his lips moved rapidly with the tale that he was pouring into her ears.

She could not hear a word, but her jealous heart imputed the very worst to him.

She could see that Edith repudiated him--that she was indignant and dismayed; but this circ.u.mstance did not soothe her in the least.

It was enough to arouse all the worst elements of her fiery nature to know that the girl's charms were alluring the man whom she worshiped, and a very demon of jealousy and hatred possessed her.

She watched them until she saw her husband give that guilty start, of which Edith took advantage to escape, and then, her hands clenched until the nails almost pierced the tender flesh, her lips convulsed--her whole face distorted with pa.s.sion and pain, she turned from the spot.

"I have no longer any conscience," she hissed, as she sped swiftly back to her room. "The girl is doomed--she has sealed her own fate. As for him--if I did not love him so, I would--"

A shudder completed her sentence, but smoothing her face, she removed her wraps, and went to tell her brother that she must go below, but would have his dinner sent up immediately.

Then drawing on her gloves, she hastened down to join her guests in the drawing-room.

CHAPTER XI.

"NOW MY VINDICATION AND TRIUMPH WILL BE COMPLETE!"

When Anna G.o.ddard descended to her s.p.a.cious and elegant parlors, her face was wreathed with the brightest smiles, which, alas! covered and concealed the bitterness and anger of her corrupt heart, even while she circulated among her friends with apparently the greatest pleasure, and with her usual charm and grace and manner.

After a short time spent socially, the guests repaired to the s.p.a.cious carriage-house, where the theatrical performance was to take place, to secure the most desirable seats for the play, before the mult.i.tude from outside should arrive.

The place had been very handsomely decorated, and lighted by electricity, for the occasion. Potted flowers, palms, and ferns were artistically grouped in the corners, and handsome draperies were hung here and there to simulate windows and doors, and to conceal whatever might otherwise have been unsightly.

The floor had been covered with something smooth, linoleum or oilcloth, and then thoroughly waxed, for after the play was over, the place was to be cleared for dancing.

Across one end, a commodious stage had been erected, although this was at present concealed by a beautiful drop-curtain of crimson felt, bordered with old gold.

The room filled rapidly, and long before the time for the curtain to ascend, every seat was occupied.

At eight o'clock, precisely, the signal was given, and the play began.

Programs had been distributed among the audience--dainty little cards of embossed white and gold they were, too--announcing the t.i.tle, "The Masked Bridal," giving the names of the partic.i.p.ants, and promising that the affair would close with a genuine surprise to every one.

The piece opened in an elegantly appointed library, with a spirited scene and dialogue between a young couple, who were desirous of marrying, and the four objecting parents.

The actors all rendered their parts well, the heroine being especially pretty and piquant, and winning the admiration and sympathy of the audience at the outset.

In the next scene the unfortunate young couple are represented as plotting with two other lovers, whose wedding-day is set, to circ.u.mvent their obdurate parents, and carry out their determination to become husband and wife.

This also was full of energy and interest, several bright hits and witticisms being cleverly introduced, and the curtain went down amid enthusiastic applause; then, while the stage settings were being changed for the final act and the church wedding, some music was introduced, both vocal and instrumental, to while away the time.

Edith, who had a.s.sisted madam in the dressing-room as long as she was needed, had come outside, at the beginning of the scene, and stationed herself at the back of the room to watch the progress of the play.

But she had been there only for a few moments when some one touched her on the shoulder to attract her attention.

Glancing around, she saw a young girl, one of the guests in the house, who remarked:

"Mrs. G.o.ddard wished me to tell you to come to her at once in her boudoir. Please be quick, as the matter is important."