Part 25 (2/2)
The morning following the great G.o.ddard ball at Wyoming, found Edith much better, greatly to the surprise of every one.
She was quite weak, as was but natural after such a shock to her system, both physically and mentally; but she had slept very quietly through the night, after the housekeeper had gone to her and thrown the protection of her presence around her.
At Emil Correlli's request, the physician had remained in the house all night, in case he should be wanted; and when he visited her quite early in the morning, he expressed himself very much gratified to find her so comfortable, and said she would do well enough without any further medical treatment, but advised her to keep quiet for a day or two.
This Edith appeared perfectly willing to do, and lay contentedly among her pillows, watching her kind nurse while she put the room in order, making no remarks, asking no questions, but with a look of grave resolve growing in her eyes and about her sweet mouth, which betrayed that she was doing a good deal of thinking upon some subject.
Mrs. G.o.ddard came to her door immediately after breakfast, but Edith refused to see her.
She had told Mrs. Weld not to admit any one; therefore, when the lady of the house sought admittance, the housekeeper firmly but respectfully denied her entrance.
”But I have something very important to say to Edith,” madam persisted.
”Then it had best be left unsaid until the poor girl is stronger,”
Mrs. Weld replied, without moving her portly proportions and holding the door firmly in her hand.
”I have a message from my brother for her--it is necessary that I should deliver it,” Mrs. G.o.ddard obstinately returned. Mrs. Weld looked back into the room inquiringly.
”I do not wish to see any one,” Edith weakly responded, but in a voice of decision which told the listener outside that the girl had no intention of yielding the point.
”Very well; then I will wait until she feels stronger,” said the baffled woman, whereupon she beat an ignominious retreat, and the invalid was left in peace.
Mrs. Weld spent as much time as possible with her, but she of course had her duties below to attend to; so, at Edith's request, she locked her in and took the key with her when she was obliged to go downstairs.
Once, while she was absent, some one crept stealthily to the door and knocked.
Edith started up, and leaned upon her elbow, a momentary look of fear sweeping her face; but she made no response.
The knock was repeated.
Still the girl remained motionless and voiceless, only her great blue eyes began to blaze with mingled indignation and contempt, for she knew, instinctively, who was seeking admission.
”Miss Al--Edith, I must speak with you--I must have an interview with you,” said the voice of Emil Correlli from without.
Still no answer from within; but the dazzling gleam in the girl's eyes plainly showed that that voice had aroused all the spirit within her in spite of her weak condition.
”Pray grant me an interview, Edith--I have much to say to you--much to explain--much to entreat of you,” continued the voice, with a note of earnest appeal.
But he might as well have addressed the walls for all the effect he produced.
There was a moment or two of silence, then the man continued, with something of authority:
”I have the right to come to you, Edith--I have a right to demand that you regard my wishes. If you are not prepared to receive me just now, name some time when I can see you, and I will wait patiently your pleasure; only speak and tell me that you will comply with my request.”
It was both a pretty and a striking picture behind that closed door, if he could but have seen it--the fair girl, in her snowy robe, over which she had slipped a pretty light blue sack, reclining upon her elbow, her beautiful hair falling in graceful confusion about her shoulders; her violet eyes gleaming with a look of triumph in her advantage over the man without; her lips--into which the color was beginning to flow naturally again--parted just enough to reveal the milk-white teeth between them.
<script>