Part 21 (1/2)

”You--you have been in--Rome?” the man faltered.

”Oh, yes.”

”Recently?”

There was a sort of breathless intensity about the man as he asked this question.

”No; I was in Rome--in the year 18--.”

At this response, Gerald G.o.ddard involuntarily put out his hand and laid it upon the bal.u.s.trade, near which he was standing, while he gazed spell-bound into the proud, beautiful face before him, searching it with wild, eager eyes.

After a moment he partially recovered himself, and remarked:

”Is it possible? I myself was in Rome during the same year and painted this picture at that time. Were--were you in the city long?” he concluded, in a voice that trembled in spite of himself.

”From January until--until June.”

For the second time that evening Mr. G.o.ddard suppressed a groan with a cough.

”Ah! It is a singular coincidence, is it not, that I also was there during those months?” he finally managed to articulate.

”A coincidence?” his companion repeated, with a slight lifting of her shapely brows, a curious gleam in her eyes. Then throwing back her head with an air of defiance which was intensified by the glitter of those magnificent stones which crowned her l.u.s.trous hair, and with a peculiar cadence ringing through her tones, she observed: ”Rome is a lovely city--do you not think so? And, as it happened, I resided in a delightful portion of it. Possibly you may remember the locality. It was a charming little house, with beautiful trees--oleander, orange, and fig--growing all around the s.p.a.cious court. This pretty ideal home was Number 34, Via Nationale.”

The wretched man stared helplessly at her for one brief moment when she had concluded, then a cry of despair burst from him.

”Oh, G.o.d! I knew it! You--you are Isabel?”

”Yes.”

”Then you were not--you did not--”

”Die? No,” was the brief response; but the beautiful eyes looking so steadily into his seemed to burn into his very soul.

A mighty shudder shook Gerald G.o.ddard from head to foot as he reeled backward and leaned against the wall for support.

”Oh, G.o.d!” he cried again, in a voice of agony; then his head dropped heavily upon his breast.

His companion gazed silently upon him for a minute; then, turning, she brushed by him without a word and went on into the dressing-room for her wraps.

Presently she came forth again, enveloped from head to foot in a long garment richly lined with fur, the scarlet lining of the hood contrasting beautifully with her clear, flawless complexion and her brown eyes.

Gerald G.o.ddard still stood where she had left him.

She would have pa.s.sed him without a word, but he put out a trembling hand to detain her.

”Isabel!” he faltered.

”Mrs. Stewart, if you please,” she corrected, in a cold, proud tone.