The Masked Bridal

by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon

  CHAPTER XVI.

  "YOU SHALL NEVER WANT FOR A FRIEND."

  Up in the third story, poor Edith lay upon her bed, still in anunconscious state.

  All the wedding finery had been removed and carried away, and she layscarcely less white than the spotless _robe de nuit_ she wore, herlips blue and pinched, her eyes sunken and closed.

  A physician sat beside her, his fingers upon her pulse, his eyesgravely fixed upon the beautiful, waxen face lying on the pillow.

  Two housemaids, looking frightened and anxious, were seated near him,watching him and the still figure on the bed, but ready to obeywhatever command he might issue to them.

  After introducing his sister to Mrs. Stewart, Emil Correlli hadslipped away from the scene of gayety, which had become almostmaddening to him, and mounted to that third-story room to inquireagain regarding the condition of the girl he had so wronged.

  "No better," came the answer, which made him turn with dread, and aterrible fear to take possession of his heart.

  What if Edith should never revive? What if she should die in one ofthese dreadful swoons?

  His guilty conscience warned him that he would have been her murderer.

  He could not endure the thought, and slinking away to his own room, hedrank deeply to stupefy himself, and then went to bed.

  Gerald Goddard also was strangely exercised over the fair girl'scondition, and half an hour after his interview with Mrs. Stewart hecrept forth from his room again and went to see if there had been anychange in her condition.

  "Yes," Dr. Arthur told him, "she is coming out of it, and if anotherdoes not follow, she will come around all right in time. If you couldonly find that housekeeper," he added, "she must have good carethrough the night."

  "I will go for her again," said Mr. Goddard, and he started downstairsupon his quest.

  He met the woman on the second floor and just coming up the backstairs.

  "Ah! Mrs. Weld, I am glad to find you. We have needed you sadly," heeagerly exclaimed.

  "I am sorry," the woman replied, in a regretful tone. "I wasunavoidably engaged and came just as soon as I was at liberty. What isthis I hear?" she continued, gravely; "what is this story about thepoor child being cheated into a real marriage with madam's brother? Isit true?"

  "Hush! no one must hear such a version," said Mr. Goddard, lookinganxiously about him.

  He then proceeded to explain something of the matter, for he saw thatshe knew too much to keep still, unless she was told more, andcautioned not to discuss the matter with the servants.

  "I knew nothing of the plot until it was all over--I swear to you Idid not," he said, when she began to express her indignation at theaffair. "I never would have permitted anything of the kind to havebeen carried out in my house, if I had suspected it. It seems thatCorrelli has been growing fond of her ever since he came. She hasrefused him twice, but he swore that he would have her, in spite ofeverything, and it seems that he concocted this plot to accomplish hisend."

  "Well, sir, he is a dastardly villain, and, in my opinion, his sisteris no better than himself," Mrs. Weld exclaimed, in tones of hotindignation, and then she swept past him and on up to Edith's room.

  She opened the door and entered just as the poor girl heaved a longsigh and unclosed her eyes, looking about with complete consciousnessfor the first time since she fell to the floor in the parlor below.

  The physician immediately administered a stimulant, for she wasnaturally weak and her pulses still feeble.

  As this began to take effect, memory also resumed its torturing work.

  Lifting her eyes to the housekeeper, who went at once to her side, aspasm of agony convulsed her beautiful features.

  "Oh, Mrs. Weld!" she moaned, shivering from head to foot.

  "Hush, child!" said the woman, bending over her and laying a gentlehand upon her head; "it will all come right, so just shut your eyesand try to go to sleep. I am going to stay with you to-night, andnobody else shall come near you. Don't talk before the servants," sheadded, in a swift whisper close to her ear.

  An expression of intense relief swept over the fair sufferer's face atthis friendly assurance, and lifting a grateful look to thehousekeeper's face, she settled herself contentedly upon her pillow.

  Dr. Arthur then drew Mrs. Weld to the opposite side of the room, wherehe gave her directions for the night and what to do in case thefainting should return--which, however, he said he did not anticipate,as the action of the heart had become normal and the circulation morenatural.

  A little later he took his leave, after which the housemaids weredismissed and Edith was alone with her friend.

  When the door closed after them the girl stretched forth her hands ina gesture of helpless appeal to the woman.

  "Oh, Mrs. Weld," she wailed, "must I be bound to that wretch duringthe remainder of my life? I cannot live and bear such a fate! Oh, whata shameful mockery it was! I felt, all the time, as if I werecommitting a sacrilege, and yet I never dreamed that I was being usedso treacherously--"

  The housekeeper sat down beside the excited girl, whose eyes wereburning with a feverish light, and who showed symptoms of returninghysteria.

  She removed her spectacles, and taking both of those trembling handsin hers, looked steadily into the troubled eyes.

  "My child," she said, in a gentle, soothing tone, "you must not talkabout it to-night--you must not even think about it. I have told youthat it will all come out right; no man could hold you to such amarriage--no court would hold you bound when once it is understood howfraudulently you had been drawn into it."

  "But who is going to be able to prove that it was fraudulent?"questioned Edith with increasing anxiety. "Apparently I went to thealtar with that man of my own free will; with all the semblance ofsincerity I took those marriage vows upon me and then received thecongratulations of all those guests as if I were a real wife. Oh, itwas terrible! terrible! terrible!" and her voice arose almost to ashriek of agony as she concluded.

  "Hush! not another word! Edith look at me!" commanded Mrs. Weld withgentle but impressive authority.

  The young girl, awed to silence in spite of her grief and nervousexcitement, looked wonderingly up into those magnetic eyes whichalmost seemed to betray a dual nature.

  "Oh, dear Mrs. Weld, you do not seem at all like yourself," shegasped. "What--who are you?"

  "I am your friend, my dear," was the soothing response, "and I amgoing to prove it, first by forbidding you to refer to this subjectagain until after you have had a nice, long sleep. Trust me and obeyme, dear; I am going to stand by you as long as you need a friend, andI promise you that you shall never be a slave to the man who has sowronged you to-night. Now put it all out of your mind. I do not wantto give you an opiate if I can avoid it, for you would not be so wellto-morrow after taking it; but I shall have to if you keep up thisexcitement."

  She continued to hold the girl's trembling hands in a strong,protecting clasp, while she still gazed steadily into her eyes,until, as if overcome by a will stronger than her own--her physicalstrength being well-nigh exhausted--the white lids gradually drooped,the rigid form relaxed, the lines smoothed themselves out of her brow,and she was soon sleeping quietly and restfully.

  When her regular breathing assured the watcher beside her thatoblivion had sealed her senses for the time, she bent over her,touched her lips softly to her forehead, and murmured:

  "Dear heart, they shall never hold you to that wicked ceremony--tothat unholy bond! If the law will not cancel it, if they have sprungthe trap upon you so cunningly that the court cannot free you, theyshall at least leave you in peace and virtually free, and you shallnever want for a friend as long as--as--Gertrude Weld lives," sheconcluded, a peculiar smile wreathing her lips.

  While this strange woman sat in that third-story room and watched hersleeping patient, the hours sped by on rapid wings to the merrydancers below, very few of whom concerned themselves about, or evenknew of, the tragic ending of the marriage which they had witnes
sedearlier in the evening.

  But oh, how heavily these hours dragged to one among that smilingthrong!

  Anna Goddard could scarcely control her impatience for her guests tobe gone--for the terrible farce to end.

  How terrible it all was to her not one of the gay people around hercould suspect, for she was obliged to fawn and smile as if she were inthorough sympathy with the scene, and to attend to her duties ashostess and to all the petty details required by so-called etiquette,in order to preserve the prestige which she had acquired forentertaining handsomely.

  But there was a deadly fear at her heart--an agony of apprehension, adread of a fate which, to her, would have been worse than death.

  Her husband and brother had disappeared entirely from the ball-room, acircumstance which only added to her perplexity and distress.

  When she saw signs of the ball breaking up she sent an imperativemessage to her husband to join her, for she knew that it would causeunpleasant remarks if the master of the house should fail to put in anappearance to "speed the parting guest."

  But she almost wished, when he came to her side, that she had not sentfor him, for he seemed like one who had lost his hold upon every hopein the world, and looked so coldly upon her that she would rather havehad him plunge a dagger into her heart.

  But the weary evening was over at length--the last guest from outsidewas gone--the last visitor in the house had retired.

  Her husband also had watched his opportunity, when she was lookinganother way, and had slipped out of the room and upstairs to escapehaving any complaints or questions from her.

  And so Anna Goddard stood alone in her elegant drawing-room, a mostmiserable woman, in spite of the luxury that surrounded her.

  She had everything that heart could wish of this world's goods--abeautiful home in the city, another in the country, horses, carriages,servants, fine raiment, costly jewels, and fared sumptuously everyday.

  But her heart was like a sepulcher, full of corruption that hadtainted her whole life; and now, as she stood there beneath the glareof a hundred lights, so fair to look upon in her gleaming satins andflashing jewels, it seemed to her that she would gladly exchangeplaces with the humblest country-woman if thereby she could be atpeace with herself and with God, and be the center of a loving andloyal family, happy in the performances of her simple duties as a wifeand mother.

  Finally, with a weary sigh, the unhappy woman went slowly upstairs,feeling as if, in spite of the smiles and compliments which she hadthat evening received, she had not a real friend in the world.

  Going to her dressing-case, she began to remove her jewels.

  The house was very still--so still that it almost seemed deserted, andthis feeling only served to add to the sense of loneliness anddesolation that was oppressing her.

  Her face was full of pain, her beautiful lips quivered with suppressedemotion as she gathered up her costly treasures in both hands andstood looking at them a moment, thinking bitterly how much money theyrepresented, and yet of how little real value they were to her as anessential element in her life.

  She moved toward her casket to put her gems carefully away.

  She stood looking down into the box for a minute, then, as if impelledby some irresistible impulse, she laid the priceless stones all in aheap upon the table, when, taking hold of a loop, which had escapedthe housekeeper's notice, she lifted the cushion from its place, thusrevealing the papers which had been concealed beneath it.

  She seized the uppermost one with an eager hand.

  "I believe I will destroy it," she mused, "I am afraid there issomething more in his desire to possess it than he is willing toadmit, for he is so determined to get possession of it."

  She half unfolded the document as if to examine it, when a suddenshock went quivering through her frame and a look of amazementoverspread her face.

  "What can this mean?" she exclaimed, in a tone of alarm, as she dashedit upon the floor and seized another.

  This also proved disappointing.

  "It was here the last time I looked! I am sure I left it on top of theothers!" she muttered, with white lips, as, with trembling hands andheaving bosom, she overturned everything in search of the missingdocument.

  But the most rigid examination failed to reveal it, and, with a cry ofmingled agony and anger, she sank weak and trembling upon the nearestchair.

  "It is gone!" she whispered, hoarsely; "some one has stolen it!"

  She sat there looking utterly helpless and wretched for a fewmoments.

  Then her eyes began to blaze and her lips to twitch spasmodically.

  "He has done this!" she cried, starting to her feet once more. "Thatwas why he was absent so long from the ball-room to-night."

  Seizing the papers she had removed from the box, she hastily replacedthem, also the cushion, restoring the jewels to their places, afterwhich she shut and locked the casket, taking care to remove the keyfrom its lock.

  This done, she hurried from the room, looking more like a beautifulfiend than a woman.