The Masked Bridal

by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  ISABEL STEWART ASTOUNDS MR. GODDARD.

  But there was not a sound to be heard in the room beyond, although thecurtains still continued to vibrate gently, thus showing the presenceof some object that had caused the movement.

  Mrs. Stewart arose to investigate, for the conversation in which shehad been engaged and the story she was relating were of such a naturethat she did not care to have a third party, especially a servant,overhear it.

  She parted the draperies and looked curiously into the room beyond.

  But her act only revealed a pretty maltese kitten, which, being thusaroused from its slumbers in its cozy place of concealment, rolledover on its back and began to play with the heavy fringe that borderedthe costly hangings.

  "Ah, Greylocks! so you are the rogue who has startled us!" said thelady, with an amused smile. "I feared that we had an eavesdropper. Youare a very innocent one, however, and we will not take the trouble tobanish you."

  She went back to her chair reassured, and without a suspicion of thepresence of one who hated her with a deadly hatred, and who stillstood, pale and trembling, concealed by the voluminous folds of thedraperies, but waiting with eager curiosity to overhear what shouldfollow.

  Meantime the maid who had admitted Mrs. Goddard, feeling that she mustbecome wearied with her long waiting, had returned to thereception-room to ascertain if she still desired to remain until hermistress should be at liberty; but finding it empty, had concludedthat the lady had left the house, and so went about her business,thinking no more of the matter.

  "Yes," resumed Mrs. Stewart, after she had resumed her seat, "I knew,from the description which my kind friends afterward gave me, thatAnna Correlli had come there to assure herself that her rival wasreally dead. When--suspecting from her manner that she might knowsomething about me--they questioned her, she told them that, 'fromwhat she had read in the papers, she feared it might be some one whomshe knew; but she was mistaken--I was nothing to her--she had neverseen me before.' Then she went away with an air of utter indifference,and I was left fortunately to the kindness of that noble heartedbrother and sister. They did everything that the fondest relativescould have done, and, in their divine pity for one so friendless andunfortunate, neglected not the smallest detail which they would havebestowed upon an own sister. Only they, besides the undertaker and theone Protestant pastor in the city, were present during the reading ofthe service; and when that was over, Willard Livermore, actuated bysome unaccountable impulse, insisted upon closing the casket. He bentover me to remove a Roman lily which his sister had placed in myhands, and which he wished to preserve, and, while doing so, observedthat my fingers were no longer rigid--that the nails were even faintlytinted. He was startled, and instantly summoned his sister. Hardly hadher own fingers pressed my pulse in search of evidence of life, whenmy eyes unclosed and I moaned:

  "'Don't let her come near me! She has stolen all the love out of mylife!"

  "Then I immediately relapsed again into unconsciousness without evenknowing I had spoken. Later, when told of the fact, I could dimlyrecall the sensation of a sudden shock which was instantly followed bya vision of Anna Correlli's face and the sound of her voice, and Ifirmly believe, to-day, that it was her presence alone that startledmy chilled pulses once more into action and thus awoke to new life thetorpid soul which had so nearly passed out into the great unknown."

  Could the narrator have seen the face of the listener outside, hertongue would have been paralyzed and the remainder of her story wouldnever have been told; for Anna Goddard, upon learning that she hadbeen the means of calling back to earth the woman whose existence hadshorn her of every future hope, looked--with her wild eyes anddemoniac face--as if she could be capable of any act that wouldutterly annihilate the unsuspicious companion of the man whom heruntamed soul worshiped as only such a fierce and selfish nature couldworship a human being.

  But she made no sign or sound to betray her presence, for she wascurious to hear the remainder of this strange story--to learn how herbeautiful rival had risen from disgrace and obscurity to her presentprosperity and enviable position in society.

  "Of course," Mrs. Stewart resumed, "Mr. and Miss Livermore were boththrown into a state of great excitement at such an unexpectedmanifestation; but my words told them that there was some sad andmysterious story connected with my life and the rash deed I hadcommitted, and they resolved to still surround me with their care andprotection until I should recover--if that were possible--instead ofcommitting me to a hospital, as many would have done.

  "They bound both the clergyman and the undertaker to the strictestsecrecy; then I was immediately conveyed to Miss Livermore's own room,where that noble girl cared for me as tenderly as a mother would nurseher own child. For weeks I hovered between life and death, then slowlybegan to mend. When I was able, I related to my kind friends the storyof my wrongs, to receive only gentle sympathy and encouragement,instead of coldness and censure, such as the world usually metes outto girls who err as I had erred. As I grew stronger, and realized thatI was to live, my mother-heart began to long for its child. MissLivermore agreed with me that it would be better for me to have her,and went herself to make inquiries regarding her. But the nurse hadmoved and none of her neighbors could give any information about her,except that for a time she had charge of an infant, but after itsparents had come to claim it, she had moved away, and no one couldtell whither she had gone.

  "From this I knew that my old friend, Edith Allendale, had respondednobly to my appeal--that she had taken my child and adopted it as herown. At first I was inclined to be disappointed, and contemplatedwriting to Edith, telling her what had happened and ask her tosurrender the little one to me; but after thinking the matter overmore at length, I reasoned that it would be best to let everythingrest just as it was. I knew that my darling would be tenderly rearedin her new home; she would grow up to a happy womanhood without everknowing of the blight that rested upon her birth, or that her fatherhad been a villain, her mother a wronged and ruined woman--almost asuicide. So I decided that I would never reveal myself to my oldfriend, or undeceive her regarding my supposed fate, to disturb herpeace or her enjoyment of the child.

  "But, following the advice of my new friends, I finally wrote to myfather and mother, confessing everything to them, imploring theirforgiveness for the grief and shame I had brought upon them, andasking their counsel and wishes regarding my future. Imagine my joyand gratitude when, three weeks later, they walked in upon me and tookme at once to their hearts, ignoring all the past, as far as anycensure or condemnation were concerned, and began to plan to make myfuture as peaceful and happy as circumstances would allow.

  "They had come abroad with the intention of remaining, they told me;they would never ask me to return to my former home, where the factthat I had eloped with an artist was known, but would settle inLondon, where my father had some business interests, and where,surrounded by the multitude, our former friends would never be likelyto meet us. We lived there, a quiet, peaceful, prosperous life, Idevoting myself assiduously to study to make up for what I hadsacrificed by leaving school so early, and to keep my mind fromdwelling upon my unhappy past.

  "So the time slipped away until, five years ago, this tranquil lifewas suddenly interrupted by my father's death. Six months later mymother followed him, and I was again left alone, without a relative inthe world, the sole heiress to a half-million pounds--"

  "A half-million pounds?" interposed Gerald Goddard, in a tone ofamazement.

  "Yes; but of what value is money without some one to share it withyou?" questioned Isabel Stewart, in a voice of sadness.

  Her companion passed his hand across his brow, a dazed expression uponhis face, while he was saying to himself, that, in his folly, he hadmissed an ideal existence with this brilliantly beautiful andaccomplished woman, who, in addition, was now the possessor of two anda half million dollars.

  What an idiot he had been! What an unconscionable craven, tosacrif
ice this pure and conscientious creature to his passion for onewho had made his life wretched by her variable moods and selfishness!

  "Occasionally I heard from my child," Mrs. Stewart resumed, after amoment of silence, while tears started into her beautiful eyes. "Myfather crossed the ocean from time to time, for the sole purpose oflearning something of her, in order to satisfy my hungry heart. Henever revealed the fact of my existence to any one, however, althoughhe managed to learn that my darling was happy, growing up to be a pureand lovely girl, as well as a great comfort to her adopted parents,and with nothing to mar her future prospects. Of course such tidingswere always gleams of great comfort to my sad and quiet life, and Itried to be satisfied with them--tried to be grateful for them. But,oh! since the death of my parents, I have yearned for her with aninexpressible heart-hunger--"

  A sob of pain burst from the beautiful woman's lips and interruptedher narrative at this point.

  But she recovered herself almost immediately, and resumed:

  "A year or two after I was left alone I happened to meet your formerfriend, Will Forsyth, and from him learned that I had always been yourlegal wife, and that he had sent you proofs of the fact, about a yearafter your desertion of me.

  "This astonishing intelligence animated me with a new purpose, and Iresolved that I would seek the world over for you, and demand thatproof from you.

  "I returned immediately to this country and established myself in NewYork, where, Mr. Forsyth told me, he thought you were residing. Soonafter my arrival I learned, to my dismay, that Mr. Allandale hadrecently died, leaving his family in a destitute condition. Thisknowledge changed my plans somewhat; I gave up my quest for you, forthe time, and began to search for my old friend who, for eighteenyears, had been a mother to my child. I had no intention ofinterrupting the relations between them--my only thought was toprovide for their future in a way to preclude the possibility oftheir ever knowing the meaning of the word poverty. But my utmostefforts proved unavailing--I could learn nothing of them; but Ifinally did get trace of you, and two months ago came on to Boston,determined to face you and compel you to surrender to me thecertificate of our marriage."

  "Ha! did you expect that I would yield to you?" questioned GeraldGoddard, a note of defiance in his voice.

  "Certainly--I knew I could compel you to do so."

  "Indeed? You were sanguine! By what arguments did you expect toachieve your desire? How could you even prove that I had such apaper?"

  "I do not know that I could have proven that you possessed thecertificate," quietly responded Mrs. Stewart; "but I could at leastprove that such a paper once existed, for Mr. Forsyth assured me that,if I needed assistance to establish the fact of my marriage he wouldbe ready to give it at any time. I did not think I should need to callupon him, however; I reasoned that, rather than submit to an arrestand scandal, for--bigamy, you would quietly surrender the certificateto me."

  Gerald Goddard shivered at the sound of those three ugly words, whilethe listener, behind the draperies, clinched her hands and locked herteeth to keep herself from shrieking aloud in her agony, and thusrevealing her presence.

  "I am afraid you will find that you have reckoned without your host,madam," the man at length retorted, for he was stung to the soul withthe covert threat which had suggested the possibility that he, GeraldGoddard, the noted artist, the distinguished society man, and princelyentertainer, might be made to figure conspicuously in a criminal courtunder a charge that would brand him for all time.

  "Ah! how so?" quietly inquired his companion.

  "No power on earth would ever have compelled me to relinquish it, Mr.Forsyth's assurance to the contrary notwithstanding."

  The man paused, to see what effect this assertion would have upon hislistener; but she made no response--she simply sat quietly regardinghim, while a curious little smile hovered about her beautiful mouth.

  "You look skeptical," Mr. Goddard continued, gazing at hersearchingly; "but let me tell you that you will find it no easy matterto prove the statements you have made--no person of common sense wouldcredit your story."

  "Indeed! But have you not already admitted that you received thecertificate of which Mr. Forsyth told me?"

  "Yes; but we have been here alone, with no witness to swear to whathas passed between us. However, as I have already told you, Anna stolethe paper from me years ago, and I have never seen it since."

  "Yes, I know you told me so!"

  "Do you not believe me?"

  "I think my past relations with you have not served to establish afeeling of excessive confidence in you," was the quietly ironicalresponse.

  The man flushed hotly, while anger for the moment rendered himspeechless.

  "Possibly you might be able to induce your--companion to surrender thedocument," the lady added, after a minute of awkward silence.

  Gerald Goddard gnawed his under lip in impotent wrath at thissarcastic reference to the woman who had shared his life for so manyyears; while the wretched eavesdropper herself barely suppressed amoan of passionate anguish.

  "You have very little idea of Anna's spirit, if you imagine that shewould ever yield one jot to you," Mr. Goddard at length retorted, hisface crimson with rage.

  Isabel Stewart arose from her chair and stood calm and cold beforehim.

  She gazed with a steady, searching look into his eyes, then remarked,with slow emphasis:

  "She will never be asked to yield to me, and I am spared the necessityof suing to either of you, for--that all-important certificate ofmarriage is already in my possession."

  As we know, Gerald Goddard had feared this; he had even suggested thepossibility to Anna, on the night of the ball at Wyoming, when shetold him of the disappearance of the paper.

  Nevertheless, the announcement of the fact at this time came upon himlike a thunderbolt, for which he was utterly unprepared.

  "Zounds!" he cried, starting to his feet, as if electrified, "can youmean it? Then you stole it the night of the ball!"

  "You are greatly mistaken, Mr. Goddard; it was in my possession beforethe night of the ball," quietly returned his companion.

  "I do not believe it!" cried the man, excitedly.

  "I will prove it to you if you desire," Mrs. Stewart remarked.

  "I defy you to do so."

  "Very well; I accept your gage. You will, however, have to excuse mefor a few moments," and, with these few words, the stately andgraceful woman turned and disappeared within a chamber that openedfrom the room they were in.

  It would be difficult to describe the conflict of emotions that ragedin Gerald Goddard's breast during her absence.

  While he was almost beside himself with anger and chagrin, over thevery precarious position in which he found himself, he was alsotormented by intense disappointment and a sense of irritation to thinkhe had so fatally marred his life by his heartless desertion of thebeautiful woman who had just left him.

  Anna was not to be compared with her; she was perhaps more brilliantand pronounced in her style; but she lacked the charm of refinementand sweet graciousness that characterized Isabel; while, more than allelse, he lamented the loss of the princely inheritance which hadfallen to her, and which he would have shared if he had been true toher.

  Ten minutes passed, and then he was aroused from his wretchedreflections by the opening of the chamber door near him, when his latehousekeeper at Wyoming walked into the room.