When the man outside a.s.serted his right to come to her, the only sign she had made was a little toss of her golden-crowned head, indicative of defiance, while about the corners of her lovely mouth there lurked a smile of scorn that would have been maddening to Emil Correlli could he have seen it.

At last a discontented muttering and the sound of retreating steps in the hall told her that her persecutor had become discouraged, and gone. Then, with a sigh of relief, she sank back upon her pillow feeling both weak and weary from excitement.

Left alone once more, she fell into deep thought.

In spite of a feeling of despair which, at times, surged over her in view of the trying position in which she found herself, the base deception practiced upon her, aroused a spirit of indomitable resistance, to battle for herself and her outraged feelings, and outwit, if possible, these enemies of her peace.

"They have done this wicked thing--that woman and her brother," she said to herself; "they have cunningly plotted to lure me into this trap; but, though they have succeeded in fettering me for life, that is all the satisfaction that they will ever reap from their scheme.

They cannot compel me, against my will, to live with a man whom I abhor. Even though I stood up before that mult.i.tude last evening, and appeared a willing actor in that disgraceful sacrilegious scene, no one can make me abide by it, and I shall denounce and defy them both; the world shall at least ring with scorn for their deed, even though I cannot free myself by proving a charge of fraud against them. But, oh--"

The proud little head suddenly drooped, and with a moan of pain she covered her convulsed face with her hands, as her thoughts flew to a certain room in New York, where she had spent one happy, blissful week in learning to love, with all her soul, the man whom she had served.

She had believed, as we know, that her love for Royal Bryant was hopeless--at least she had told herself so, and that she could never link her fate with his, after learning of her shameful origin.

Yet, now that there appeared to have arisen an even greater barrier, she began to realize that all hope had not been quite dead--that, in her heart, she had all the time been nursing a tender shoot of affection, and a faint belief that her lover would never relinquish his desire to win her.

But these sad thoughts finally set her mind running in another channel, and brought a gleam of hope to her.

"He is a true and honorable man," she mused, "I will appeal to him in my trouble; and if any one can find a loop-hole of escape for me I am sure he will be able to do so."

When Mrs. Weld brought her lunch, she sat up and ate it eagerly, resolved to get back her strength as soon as possibly in order to carry out her project at an early date. While she was eating, she told her friend of Emil Correlli's visit and its result.

"Why cannot they let you alone!" the woman cried, indignantly. "They shall not persecute you so."

"No, I do not intend they shall," Edith quietly replied, "but I think by to-morrow morning, I shall feel strong enough for an interview, when we will have my relations toward them established for all time,"

and by the settling of the girl's pretty chin, Mrs. Weld was convinced that she would be lacking in neither spirit nor decision.

"If you feel able to talk about it now, I wish you would tell me exactly how they managed to hoodwink you to such an extent. Perhaps I may be of some service to you, when the matter comes to a crisis," the woman remarked, as she studied the sweet face before her with kind and pitying eyes.

And Edith related just how Mrs. G.o.ddard had drawn her into the net by representing that two of her actors had been called away in the midst of the play and that the whole representation would be spoiled unless she would consent to help her out.

"It was very cleverly done," said Mrs. Weld, when she concluded; but she looked grave, for she saw that the entire affair had been so adroitly managed, it would be very difficult to prove that Edith had not been in the secret and a willing actor in the drama. "But do not worry, child; you may depend upon me to do my utmost to help you in every possible way."

The next morning Edith was able to be up and dressed, and she began to pack her trunk, preparatory to going away. The guests had all left on the previous day, and everything was being put in order for the house to be closed for the remainder of the winter, while it was stated that the family would return to the city on the next day, which would be Thursday.

Edith had almost everything ready for removal by noon, and, after lunch was over, sent word to Mrs. G.o.ddard that she would like an interview with her.

The woman came immediately, and Edith marveled to see how pale and worn she looked--how she had appeared to age during the last day or two.

"I am so glad that you have decided to see me, Edith," she remarked, in a fondly confidential tone, as she drew a chair to the girl's side and sat down. "My brother is nearly distracted with grief and remorse over what has happened, and the att.i.tude which you have a.s.sumed toward him. He adores you--he will be your slave if you only take the right way to win him. Surely, you will forgive him for the deception which his great affection led him to practice upon you," she concluded, with a coaxing smile, such as she would have a.s.sumed in dealing with a fractious child.

"No," said Edith, with quiet decision, "I shall never forgive either of you for your sin against me--it is beyond pardon."

"Ah! I will not intercede for myself--but think how Emil loves you,"

pleaded her companion.

"You should have said, 'think how he loves himself,' madam," Edith rejoined, with a scornful curl of her lips, "for nothing but the rankest selfishness could ever have led a person to commit an act of such duplicity and sacrilege as that which he and you adopted to secure your own ends. He does not desire to be pardoned. His only desire is that I should relent and yield to him--which I never shall do."

As she uttered these last words, she emphasized them with a decided little gesture of her left hand that betrayed a relentless purpose.

"Ah!" she cried, the next moment, with a start, the movement having attracted her eye to the ring upon her third finger, which until that moment she had entirely forgotten.

With a shiver of repulsion, she s.n.a.t.c.hed it off and tossed it into the lap of her companion.

"Take it back to him," she said. "I had forgotten I had it on; I despise myself for having worn it even until now."

Madam flushed angrily at her act and words.

"You are very hard--you are very obdurate," she said, sharply.

"Very well; you can put whatever construction you choose upon the stand I have taken, but do not for a moment deceive yourself by imagining that I will ever consent to be known as Emil Correlli's wife; death would be preferable!" Edith calmly responded.

"Most girls would only be too eager and proud to a.s.sume the position--they would be sincerely grateful for the luxuries and pleasures they would enjoy as my brother's wife," Mrs. G.o.ddard coldly remarked, but with an angry gleam in her eyes.

A little smile of contempt curled the corners of Edith's red mouth; but otherwise she did not deign to notice these boasting comments, a circ.u.mstance which so enraged her companion that she felt, for a moment, like strangling the girl there and then.

But there was far more to be considered than her own personal feelings, and she felt obliged to curb herself for the time.

If scandal was to be avoided, she must leave no inducement untried to bend Edith's stubborn will, and madam herself was too proud to contemplate anything so humiliating; she was willing to do or bear almost anything to escape becoming a target for the fashionable world to shoot their arrows of ridicule at.

"Edith, I beg that you will listen to me," she earnestly pleaded, after a few moments of thought. "This thing is done and cannot be undone, and now I want you to be reasonable and think of the advantages which, as Emil's wife, you may enjoy. You are a poor girl, without home or friends, and obliged to work for your living. There is an escape from all this if you will be tractable; you can have a beautiful house elegantly furnished, horses, carriages, diamonds, and velvets--in fact, not a wish you choose to express ungratified. You may travel the world over, if you desire, with no other object in view than to enjoy yourself. On the other hand, if you refuse, there will be no end of scandal--you will ruin the reputation of our whole family--Emil will become the b.u.t.t of everybody's scorn and ridicule. I shall never be able to show my face again in society, either in Boston or New York; and my husband, who has always occupied a high position, will be terribly shocked and humiliated."

Edith listened quietly to all that she had to say, not once attempting to interrupt her; but when madam finally paused, in expectation of a reply, she simply remarked:

"You should have thought of all this, madam, before you plotted for the ruin of my life; I am not responsible for the consequences of your treachery and crime."

"Crime! that is an ugly word," tartly cried Mrs. G.o.ddard, who began to find the tax upon her patience almost greater than she could bear.

"Nevertheless, it is the correct term to apply to what you have done--it is what I shall charge you with--"

"What! do you dare to tell me that you intend to appeal to the courts?" exclaimed madam, aghast.

She had fondly imagined that, the deed once done, the girl having no friends whose protection she could claim, would make the best of it, and gracefully yield to the situation.

"That is what I intend to do."

Anna G.o.ddard's face was almost livid at this intrepid response.

"And you utterly refuse to listen to reason?" she inquired, struggling hard for self-control.

"I utterly refuse to be known as Emil Correlli's wife, if that is what you mean by 'reason,'" said Edith, calmly.

"Girl! girl! take care--do not try my patience too far," cried her companion, with a flash of pa.s.sion, "or we may have to resort to desperate measures with you."

"Such as what, if you please?" inquired Edith, still unmoved.

"That remains to be seen; but I warn you that you are bringing only wrath upon your own head. We shall never allow you to create a scandal--we shall find a way to compel you to do as we wish."