"Will you tell me your name?" she questioned, gently, after a moment or two of silence. "Pardon me," she added, flushing, as her companion looked up sharply, "I am not curious, but I do not know how to address you."

"Giulia Fiorini. Holy Mother forgive me the shame I have brought upon it!" she returned, with a sob. "I have called him"--laying her trembling hand upon the soft, silky curls of her child--"Ino Emil."

"Thank you," said Edith, "and for your confidence in me as well. You have been greatly wronged; and if there is any justice or humanity in law, this tie, which so fetters me, shall be annulled; then, perchance, Monsieur Correlli may be persuaded to do what is right toward you.

"No, lady, I have no hope of that," said Giulia, dejectedly, "for when a man begins to tire of the woman whom he has injured he also begins to despise her, and to consider himself ill-used because she even dares to exist."

"Perhaps you would wish to repudiate him," suggested Edith, who felt that such would be her att.i.tude toward any man who had so wronged her.

"Oh, no; much as I have suffered, I still love Emil, and would gladly serve him for the remainder of my life, if he would but honor me with his name; but I know him too well ever to hope for that--I know that he is utterly selfish and would mercilessly set his heel upon me if I should attempt to stand in the way of his purposes. There is nothing left for me but to go back to my own country, confess my sin to my parents, and hide myself from the world until I die."

"Ah! but you forget that you have your child to rear and educate, his mind and life to mold, and--try to make him a better man than his father," said Edith, with a tender earnestness, which instantly melted the injured girl to tears.

"Oh, that you should have thought of that, when I, his mother, forget my duty to him, and think only of my own unhappiness!" sobbed the conscience-stricken girl, as she hugged the wondering child closer to her breast. "Yesterday I told myself that I would send Ino to him, and then end my misery forever."

"Don't!" exclaimed Edith, sharply, her face almost convulsed with pain. "Your life belongs to G.o.d, and--this baby. Live above your trouble, Giulia; never let your darling have the pain and shame of learning that his mother was a suicide. If you have made one mistake, do not imagine that you can expiate it by committing another a hundred-fold worse. Ah! think what comfort there would be in rearing your boy to a n.o.ble manhood, and then hear him say, 'What I am my mother has made me!'"

She had spoken earnestly, appealingly, and when she ceased, the unhappy woman seized her hand and covered it with kisses.

"Oh, you have saved me!" she sobbed; "you have poured oil into my wounds. I will do as you say--I will rise above my sin and shame; and if Ino lives to be an honor to himself and the world, I shall tell him of the angel who saved us both. I am very sorry for you," she added, looking, regretfully, up at Edith; "I could almost lay down my life for you now; but--Correlli is rich--very rich, and you may, perhaps, be able to get some comfort out of life by--"

Edith started to her feet, her face crimson.

"What?" she cried, scornfully, "do you suppose that I could ever take pleasure in spending even one dollar of his money? Look there!"

pointing to the elegant apparel upon the bed. "I found all those awaiting me when I came here to-day. In the dressing-case yonder there are laces, jewels, and fine raiment of every description, but I would go in rags before I would make use of a single article. I loathe the sight of them," she added, shuddering. "I should feel degraded, indeed, could I experience one moment of pleasure arrayed in them."

Suddenly she started, and looked at her watch, a wild hope animating her.

It was exactly quarter past two.

A train left for New York, via the Boston & Albany Railroad, at three o'clock.

If she could reach the Columbus avenue station, which was less than fifteen minutes' walk from Commonwealth avenue, without being missed, she would be in New York by nine o'clock, and safe, for a time at least, from the man she both hated and feared.

CHAPTER XXIII.

A SURPRISE AT THE GRAND CENTRAL STATION.

"Will you help me?" Edith eagerly inquired, turning to her companion, who had regarded her wonderingly while she repudiated the costly gifts which Emil Correlli had showered upon her.

"How can I help you, lady?" Giulia inquired, with a look of surprise.

"Call me Edith--I am only a poor, friendless girl, like yourself," she gently returned. "But I want to go away from this house immediately--I must get out of it un.o.bserved; then I can catch a train that leaves Boston at three o'clock, for New York."

"Ah! you wish to run away from Emil!" exclaimed Giulia, her face lighting with eagerness.

"Yes--I would never own myself his wife for a single hour. I was planning, when you came in, to get away to-night when the house was quiet; but doubtless they would lock my door if I continued to be obstinate, and it would be a great deal better for me, every way, if I could go now," Edith explained.

"Yes, I will help you--I will do anything you wish," said Giulia, heartily.

"Then come!" exclaimed Edith, excitedly, "I want you to go down to him; he is in one of the rooms below--in the library, I think--a room under the one opposite this. He will be so astonished by your unexpected visit that he will be thrown off his guard, and you must manage to occupy his attention until you are sure I am well out of the house--which will be in less than ten minutes after you are in his presence--and then I shall have nothing more to fear from him."

"I will do it," said the Italian girl, rising, a look of resolve on her handsome but care-lined face.

"Thank you! thank you!" returned Edith, earnestly. "I am going straight to New York, to friends; but of course, you will not betray my plans."

"No, indeed; but do you think your friends can help you break with Emil--do you believe that ceremony can be canceled?" breathlessly inquired Giulia.

"I hope so," Edith gravely answered; "at all events, if I can but once put myself under the protection of my friends, I shall no longer fear him. I shall then try to have the marriage annulled. Perhaps, when he realizes how determined I am, he may even be willing to submit to it."

"Oh, do you think so?--do you think so?" cried Giulia, tremulously, and with hopeful eagerness.

"I will hope so," replied Edith, gravely, "and I will also hope that I may be able to do something to make you and this dear child happy once more. What a sweet little fellow he is!" she concluded, as she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the cheek, an act which brought the quick tears to his mother's eyes.

Again she seized the girl's delicate hand and carried it to her lips.

"Ah, to think! An hour ago I hated you!--now I worship you!" she cried, in an impa.s.sioned tone, a sob bursting from her trembling lips.

"You must go," said Edith, advancing to the door, and softly opening it. "I have no time to lose if I am to catch my train. Remember, the room under the one opposite this--you will easily find it. Now good-by, and Heaven bless you both."

With a look of deepest grat.i.tude and veneration, Giulia Fiorini, her child clasped in her arms, pa.s.sed out of the room and moved swiftly toward the grand staircase leading to the lower part of the house; while Edith, closing and locking the door after her, stood listening until she should reach the library, where she was sure Emil Correlli sat reading.

She heard the sweep of the girl's robes upon the stairs; then, a moment later, a stifled exclamation of mingled surprise and anger fell upon her ears, after which the library door was hastily shut, and Edith began to breathe more freely.

She hastened to put on her jacket, preparatory to leaving the house.

But an instant afterward her heart leaped into her throat, as she caught the sound of the hurried opening and shutting of the library door again.

Then there came swift steps over the stairs.

Edith knew that Emil Correlli was coming to ascertain if she were safe within her room; that he feared if Giulia had succeeded in gaining an entrance there, without being discovered, she might possibly have escaped in the same way.

She moved noiselessly across the room toward the dressing-case and opened a drawer, just as there came a knock on her door.

"Is that you, Mrs. G.o.ddard?" Edith questioned, in her usual tone of voice, though her heart was beating with great, frightened throbs.

"No; it is I," responded Emil Correlli. "I wish to speak with you a moment, Edith."

"You must excuse me just now, Mr. Correlli," the girl replied, as she rattled the stopper to one of the perfumery bottles on the dressing-case; "I am dressing, and cannot see any one just at present."

"Oh!" returned the voice from without, in a modified tone, as if the man were intensely relieved by her reply. "I beg your pardon; but when can I see you--how long will it take you to finish dressing?"

Edith glanced at the clock, and a little smile of triumph curled her lips, for she saw that the hands pointed to half-past two.

"Not more than fifteen or twenty minutes, perhaps," she returned.