But feeling that she must not fail madam and spoil everything at this last moment, she braced herself to go on with the farce (?) to the end.

She was so relieved when it was ended, so eager to get away from the place and have the dread ordeal over, that she scarcely heard a word the clergyman uttered while congratulating her. She was dimly conscious of the clasp of his hand and the sound of his voice, but did not even notice the hated name by which he addressed her.

Neither had she once glanced at the groom, though as he took her hand and laid it upon his arm, when they turned to go out, she wondered vaguely why he should continue to hold it clasped in his, and what made his clinging fingers tremble so.

But Emil Correlli, now that his scheme was accomplished, led her, with an air of mingled triumph and joy which sat well upon him, directly out to the ladies' dressing-room, where they found madam alone awaiting them.

She could not have been whiter if she had been dead, and her teeth were actually chattering with nervousness as the two came toward her, Edith still with bowed head and downcast eyes--her brother beaming with the exultation he could not conceal.

But she braced herself to meet them with a brave front.

"Dear child, you went through it beautifully," she said, in a caressing voice as she took Edith into her arms and kissed her upon the forehead. "Let me thank and congratulate you--and you also, Emil."

At the sound of this name, Edith uttered a cry of dismay and turned her glance, for the first time, upon the man at her side.

"You!" she gasped, starting away from him with a gesture of horror, and marble could not have been whiter, nor a statue more frozen than she for a moment after making this amazing discovery.

"Hush!" imperatively exclaimed Mrs. G.o.ddard, who quickly arose to the emergency. "Do not make a scene. It could not be helped--some one had to take Mr. Kerby's place, and Emil, arriving at the last moment, was pressed into the service the same as yourself."

"How could you? It was cruel! it was wicked! I never would have consented had I suspected," cried the girl, in a voice resonant with indignation.

"Hush!" again commanded madam, "you must not--you shall not spoil everything now. The actors are all to hold an informal reception in the parlors while this room is being cleared for dancing, and you two must take your places with them--"

"I will not! I will not lend myself to such a wretched farce for another moment!" Edith exclaimed, and never for an instant suspecting that it was anything but a farce.

The face of Mrs. G.o.ddard was a study, as was also her brother's, as these resolute words fell upon her ears; but she had no intention of undeceiving the girl at present, for she knew that if she threw up the character which she had thus far been impersonating, their plot would be ruined and a fearful scandal follow.

If they could only trick her into standing with the others to receive the congratulations of her guests--to be publicly addressed as, and appear to a.s.sent to the name of, Mrs. Correlli, she believed it would be comparatively easy later on to convince her of the truth and compel her to yield to the inevitable.

But she saw that Edith was thoroughly aroused--that she felt she had been badly used--that she had been shamefully imposed upon by having been cheated into figuring thus before hundreds of people with a man who was obnoxious to her.

Madam was at her wits' end, for the girl's resolute air and blazing eyes plainly indicated that she did not intend to be trifled with any longer.

She shot a glance of dismay at her brother, only to see a dark frown upon his brow, while he angrily gnawed his under lip.

She feared that, with his customary impulse, he might be contemplating revealing the truth, and such a course she well knew would result in a scene that would ruin the evening for everybody.

But just at this instant the bridesmaids came trooping into the room and created a blessed diversion.

"Here we are, dear Mrs. G.o.ddard," a gay girl exclaimed. "Didn't it all go off beautifully, and isn't it time we were in our places for the reception?"

"Yes, yes; run along, all of you. Lead the way, Nellie, please--you know how to go up through the billiard-room," said Mrs. G.o.ddard, nervously, as she gently pushed the girl toward the stairway. Then bending toward Edith, she whispered, imploringly:

"I beg, I entreat you, Edith, not to spoil everything--everybody will wonder why you are not with the others, and I cannot explain why you refused to stand with my brother. Go! go! you must not keep my guests waiting. Emil, take her," and with an imperative gesture to her brother, she swept on toward the stairway after the others to arrange them effectively in the drawing-room.

Emil Correlli shot a searching look into the face of the girl beside him.

It was cold and proud, the beautiful eyes still glowing with indignation. But resolving upon a bold move, he reached down, took her hand, and laid it upon his arm.

"Pardon me just this once," he said, humbly, "and let me add my entreaties to my sister's," and he tried gently to force her toward the stairway.

Edith drew herself up and took her hand from his arm.

"Go on," she said, haughtily, "and I will follow. Since I have been tricked into this affair so far, a little more of the same folly cannot matter, and rather than subject Mrs. G.o.ddard to a public mortification, I will yield the point."

She made a gesture for him to proceed, and he turned to obey, a gleam of triumph leaping into his eyes at her concession.

Without a word they swiftly made their way back into the house and down to the elegant parlors where, at the upper end, the first object to greet their eyes was a beautiful floral arch with an exquisite marriage bell suspended from it.

On either side of this the bridesmaids and ushers had taken their places, and into the center of it Emil Correlli now led his companion.

And now ensued the last and most fiendish act in the dastardly plot.

Hardly were they in their places when the guests came pouring into the room, and the ushers began their duties of presentation, while Edith, with a sinking heart, but growing every moment more indignant and disgusted with what appeared to her only a horrible and senseless mockery, was obliged to respond to hundreds of congratulations and bear in silence being addressed as Mrs. Correlli.

It galled her almost beyond endurance--it was torture beyond description to her proud and sensitive spirit to be thus a.s.sociated with one for whom she had no respect, and who had made himself all the more obnoxious by lending himself to the deception which had just been practiced upon her.

Once, when there was a little pause, she turned haughtily upon the man at her side.

"Why am I addressed thus?" she demanded.

"Why do you allow it? Why do you not correct these people and tell them to use the name that was used in the play rather than yours?"

The man grew white about the lips at these questions.

"Perhaps they forget--I--I suppose it seems more natural to address me by my name," he faltered.

"I do not like it--I will not submit to it a moment longer," Edith indignantly returned.

"Hush! it is almost over," said her companion, in a swift whisper, as others came forward just then, and she was obliged, though rebellious and heart-sick, to submit to the ordeal.

But it was over at last, for, as the introductions were made, the guests pa.s.sed back to the carriage-house, which had been cleared for dancing, and where the musicians were discoursing alluring strains in rhythmic measure.

Even the bridesmaids and ushers, tempted by the sounds, at last deserted their posts, and Emil Correlli and his victim were finally left alone, the sole occupants of the drawing-room.

"Will you come and dance?" he inquired, as he turned a pleading look upon her. "Just once, to show that you forgive me for what I have done to-night."

"No, I cannot," said Edith, coldly and wearily. "I am going directly upstairs to divest myself of this mocking finery as soon as possible."

A swift, hot flush suffused Emil Correlli's face, at these words.

"Pray do not speak so bitterly and slightingly of what has made you, in my eyes at least, the most beautiful woman in this house to-night,"

he said, with a look of pa.s.sionate yearning in his eyes.

"Flattery from you, sir, after what has occurred, is, to speak mildly, exceedingly unbecoming," Edith haughtily responded and turned proudly away from him as if about to leave the room.

But, at that moment, Mr. G.o.ddard, who had not presented himself before, came hurriedly forward and confronted them. His face was very pale, but there was an angry light in his eyes and a bitter sneer upon his lips.