Part 14 (1/2)
CHAPTER XII.
THE MASKED BRIDAL.
”Oh, Mrs. Weld!” Mrs. G.o.ddard exclaimed, in tones of well-a.s.sumed eagerness. ”I am so glad you are here! I fear I have taken cold and am going to have a chill; will you be so good as to go down and mix me a hot lemonade and send it out behind the stage to me? for I must go back directly, and I will drink it there.”
The housekeeper arose at once and went out into the hall, where she saw that madam appeared excited and trembling, while her face was very pale, although her eyes were unusually bright.
Somehow, she did not believe her to be ill; but she cheerfully acceded to her request, and went directly below to attend to her commission.
As she pa.s.sed down the back stairs, Edith came hurrying up the front way.
”What has happened?” she inquired, as she observed madam's unusual excitement.
”The most unfortunate thing that could occur,” she nervously replied.
”Miss Kerby and her brother, who had the leading parts in the play, have just been summoned home, by telegraph, on account of sickness in the family, and that leaves us without our hero and heroine.”
”That is unfortunate, surely; the play will have to be given up, I suppose?” Edith remarked.
”No, indeed! I should die of mortification!” cried madam, with well-a.s.sumed consternation.
”But what can you do?” innocently inquired the young girl.
”The only thing to be done is to supply their places with others,” was the ready answer. ”I have a gentleman friend who will take Mr. Kerby's place, and I want you, Edith, to a.s.sume the part of the bride; you are just about the size of Alice Kerby, and the costume will fit you to perfection.”
”But I am afraid I cannot--I never took part in a play in my life,”
objected Edith, who instinctively shrank from becoming so conspicuous before such a mult.i.tude of people.
”Nonsense! there is but very little for you to do,” said madam, ”you have simply to walk into the church, upon the arm of the supposed bride's father. You will be masked, and no one will see your face until after all is over, and you have not a word to say, except to repeat the marriage service after the clergyman.”
Edith s.h.i.+vered, and her face had grown very pale. She did not like the idea at all; it was exceedingly repugnant to her.
”I wish you could find some one else,” she said, appealingly.
”There is no time,” said madam.
”Oh! but it seems almost like sacrilege to me, to stand before such an audience and repeat words so solemn and significant, when they will mean nothing, when the whole thing will be but a farce,” Edith tremulously remarked.
A strange expression swept over madam's face at this objection.
”You are absurdly conscientious, Edith,” she coldly observed. ”There is not another girl in the house upon whom I can call--they are all too large or too small, and the bridal costume would not fit one of them. Pray, pray, Miss Allen, pocket your scruples, for once, and help me out of this terrible predicament--the whole affair will be ruined by this awkward _contretemps_ if you do not, and I, who have promised so much to my friends, shall become the laughing-stock of every one present.”
Still the fair girl hesitated.
Some unaccountable influence seemed to be holding her back, and yet she felt that it would be very ungenerous, very disobliging of her, to allow Mrs. G.o.ddard to be so humiliated before her hundreds of guests, when this apparently slight concession upon her part would smooth everything over so nicely.
”Oh, Edith! say you will!” cried the woman, appealingly. ”You must!”
she added, imperatively. ”Come to my room--the costume is there all ready, and we will soon have you dressed.”