Part 18 (2/2)

”By claiming that she was tricked into the marriage.”

”How will you prove that, Gerald?” was the smiling query.

The man was dumb. He knew he could not prove it.

”Did she not go willingly enough to the altar?” pursued madam. ”Did she not repeat the responses freely and unhesitatingly? Was she not married by a regularly ordained minister? and was she not introduced afterward to hundreds of people as the wife of my brother, and did she not respond as such to the name of Mrs. Correlli? I hardly think you could make out a case, Gerald.”

”But the fact that the Kerbys were called away by telegram, and that some one was needed to supply their places, would prove that Edith had no knowledge of the affair--at least until the last moment,” said Mr.

G.o.ddard, eagerly seizing upon that point.

But madam broke into a musical little laugh as he ceased.

”Do you imagine that I would leave such a ragged end as that in my plot?” she mockingly questioned. ”The Kerbys were not called away by telegram, and no one can prove that either was ever told they were.

The Kerbys are still here, dancing away as heartily as any one below, and they have known, from the first, that they would not appear in the last act--they and they only, were let into the secret that the play was to end with a real marriage.”

”It is the most devilish plot I ever heard of,” said her companion, pa.s.sionately, through his tightly-locked teeth. ”Your insane jealousy and suspicion, during the years we have lived together, have shriveled whatever affection I hitherto possessed for you!”

”Gerald!”

The name came hoa.r.s.ely from the woman's white lips.

It was as if some one had stabbed her, and her heart had died with the utterance of that loved name.

He left her abruptly, and descended the stairs, never once looking back, while she watched him with an expression in her eyes that had something of the fire of madness in it, as well as that of a breaking heart.

When he reached the lower hall, she dashed down to the second floor, and into her own room, locking herself in.

Fifteen minutes later she came out again, but in place of the usual glow of health upon her cheeks, she had applied rouge to conceal the ghastliness she could not otherwise overcome, while there was a look of recklessness and defiance in her dark eyes that bespoke a nature driven to the verge of despair.

Making her way back to the ball-room, she was soon mingling with the merry dancers, and with a forced gayety that deceived every one save her husband.

To all inquiries for the bride, she replied that she had recovered consciousness, but it was doubtful if she would be able to make her appearance again that night.

Then as her glance fell upon a tall, magnificently-formed woman, who was standing near, and the center of an admiring group, she inquired, in a tone of surprise:

”Why! who is that lady in garnet velvet and point lace?”

”That is a Mrs. Stewart, a very wealthy woman, who resides at the Copley Square Hotel,” was the reply.

”Oh, is that Mrs. Stewart?” said madam, with eager interest.

”Yes; but are you not acquainted with her?” questioned her guest, with a look of well-bred astonishment.

”No; and no wonder you think it strange that she should be here by invitation, and I have no personal acquaintance with her,” the hostess remarked, with a smile; ”but such is the case, nevertheless; a card was sent to her at the request of my brother, who has met her several times, and who admires her very much. What magnificent diamonds she wears!”

”Yes; she is said to be worth a great deal of money.”

<script>