Emil Correlli had been seated in the handsome library, reading a society novel, when his sister went out to make her call, leaving him as guard over their prisoner above.

He had been much pleased with the report which she brought him from Edith, namely, that she believed she was yielding, and would make her appearance at dinner; at the same time he did not allow himself for a moment to become so absorbed in his book as to forget that he was on the watch for the slightest movement above stairs.

He and Mrs. G.o.ddard had agreed that it would be wise not to make the girl a prisoner within her room, lest they antagonize her by so doing.

But while they appeared to leave her free to go out or come in, they intended to guard her none the less securely, and thus Monsieur Correlli kept watch and ward below.

He knew that Edith could not leave the house by the front door without his knowing it, and as he also knew that the back stairway door was locked on the outside, he had no fear that she would escape that way.

He, had not reckoned, however, upon the fact of an outsider entering by means of the area door and going upstairs, thus leaving that way available for Edith; and Giulia Fiorini had accomplished her purpose so cleverly and so noiselessly that no one save Edith dreamed of her presence in the house.

The two girls had carried on their conversation in such subdued tones that not a sound could be heard by any one below, and thus Emil Correlli was taken entirely by surprise when there came a gentle knock upon the half-open library door to interrupt his reading.

"Come in," he called out, thinking it might be one of the servants.

But when the door was pushed wider, and a woman entered, bearing a child in her arms, the astonished man sprang to his feet, an angry oath leaping to his lips, and every atom of color fading out of his face.

"Giulia?" he exclaimed, under his breath.

"Papa! papa!" cried the child, clapping his little hands, as he struggled out of his mother's arms, and ran toward him.

He took no notice of the child, but frowningly demanded, as he faced the girl:

"How on earth did you ever get into this house?"

"By a door, of course," laconically responded the intruder, but with crimson cheeks and blazing eyes, for the man's rude manner had aroused all her spirit.

"Well, and what do you want?" he cried, angrily; then, with a violent start, he added, nervously: "Wait; sit down, and I will be back in a moment."

It had occurred to him that if Giulia had been able to gain admittance to the house without his hearing her, Edith might find it just as easy to make her escape from it.

So, darting out of the room, he ran swiftly upstairs, to ascertain, as we have seen, if his captive was still safe.

We know the result, and how adroitly Edith allayed his suspicions; whereupon, wholly rea.s.sured regarding her, he returned to the library to settle, once for all, as he secretly resolved, with his discarded plaything.

"Well, Giulia," he began, as he re-entered her presence, "what has brought you here? what is your business with me?"

"I have come to ascertain if this is true, and what you have to say about it," she answered, as she brought forth the newspaper which she had shown Edith, and pointed to the article relating to the wedding at Wyoming.

The man tried to smile indifferently, but his eyes wavered beneath her blazing glance.

"Well, what of it?" he at last questioned, a.s.suming a defiant air; "what if it is true?"

"Is it true?" she persisted; "have you really married that girl?"

"And what if I have?" he again questioned, evasively.

"I want the truth from your own lips--yes or no, Emil Correlli."

"Well, then--yes," he said, with a flash of anger.

"You own it--you dare own it to me, and--in the presence of your child?" almost shrieked the outraged woman.

"Stop, Giulia!" commanded her companion, sternly. "I will have no scene here to create a scandal among the servants. I intended to see you within a day or two; but, since you have sought me, we may as well at once come to an understanding. Did you think that you could hold me all my life? A man in my position must have a home in which to receive his friends, also a mistress in it to entertain them--"

"Have you forgotten all your vows and promises to me?" interposed Giulia, in tremulous tones; "that you swore everlasting fidelity to me?"

"A man vows a great many things that he finds he cannot fulfill," was the unfeeling response. "Surely, Giulia, you must realize that neither your birth nor education could ent.i.tle you to such a position as my wife must occupy."

"My birth was respectable, my education the best my country afforded,"

said the girl, with white lips. "Had you no intention of marrying me when you enticed me from my home to cross the ocean with you?"

"No."

The monosyllable seemed to fall like a heavy blow upon the girl's heart, for she shivered, and her face was distorted with agony.

"Oh, had you no heart? Why did you do such a fiendish thing?" she cried.

"Because you were pretty and agreeable, and I liked pleasant company.

I have been accustomed to have whatever I wished for all my life."

"And you never loved me?"

"Oh, yes, for nearly three years I was quite fond of you--really, Giulia, I consider that I have been as faithful to you as you could expect."

"Oh, wretch! but you love this other girl more?"

"It would be worse than useless to attempt to deceive you on that point," said the man, his whole face softening at this mention of Edith.

"You lied to me, then, Emil Correlli!" cried the miserable woman, hoa.r.s.ely; "you swore to me that the girl was nothing to you--that she was simply your sister's companion."

"And I simply told you the truth," he retorted. "She was nothing to me at that time; she was 'only my sister's companion.' However," he added, straightening himself haughtily, "there is no use in wrangling over the matter any further. I married Edith Allen the night before last, and henceforth she will be the mistress of my home. I confess it is a trifle hard on you, Giulia," he continued, speaking in a conciliatory tone, "but you must try to be sensible about it. I will settle a comfortable annuity upon you, and you can either go back to your parents or make a pleasant home for yourself somewhere in this country."

"And what of this boy?" questioned the discarded girl, laying her trembling hand upon the head of her child, who was looking from one to the other, a wondering expression on his young face.

Emil Correlli's lips twitched spasmodically for a moment. He would never have confessed it to a human being, but the little one was the dearest object the world held for him.

"I will provide handsomely for his future," he said, after considering for a minute. "If you will give him up to me he shall be reared as carefully as any gentleman's son, and, when he attains a proper age, I will establish him in some business or profession that will enable him to make his mark in the world."

"You would take him away from me to do this?" Giulia exclaimed, as she pa.s.sionately caught her darling to her breast.

"That would be necessary, in order to carry out my purpose as I wish,"

the man coldly replied.

"Never! You are a monster in human form to suggest such a thing. Do you think I would ever give him up to you?"

"Just as you choose," her companion remarked, indifferently. "I have made you the proposition, and you can accept or reject it as you see fit, but if I take him, I cannot have his future hampered by any environments or a.s.sociations that would be likely to mar his life."

"Coward!" the word was thrown at him in a way that stung him like a lash, "do you dare twit me for what you alone are to blame? Where is your honor--where your humanity? Have you forgotten how you used every art to persuade me to leave the shelter of my pleasant home--the protection of my honest father and mother, to come hither with you?