Part 44 (1/2)
”When, as a girl, I left my home to go with you to Italy,” she said, solemnly, ”I took upon myself vows which only death could cancel--they were as binding upon me as if you had always been true to me; and so, while you lived, I could never become the wife of another. I have lived my life as a pure and faithful wife should live. Although my youth was marred by an irrevocable mistake, which resulted in an act of frenzy for which I was not accountable, no willful wrong has ever cast a blight upon my character since the day that Willard Livermore rescued me from a watery grave in the depths of the yellow Tiber.”
And Gerald G.o.ddard, looking into the beautiful and n.o.ble face before him, knew that she spoke only the truth, while a blush of shame surged over his own, and caused his head to droop before the purity of her steadfast eyes.
”All efforts upon the part of Miss Livermore and her brother to resuscitate me,” Mrs. Stewart resumed, going on with her story from the point where she had been interrupted, ”were unavailing. Another physician was called to their a.s.sistance; but he at once p.r.o.nounced life to be extinct, and their efforts were reluctantly abandoned. Even then that n.o.ble brother and sister would not allow me to be sent to the morgue. They advertised in all the papers, giving a careful description of me, and begging my friends--if there were such in Rome--to come to claim me. Among the many curious gazers who--attracted by the air of mystery which enveloped me--came to look upon me, only one person seemed to betray the slightest evidence of ever having seen me before. That person was Anna Correlli--Ah! what was that?”
This sudden break and startled query was caused by the rattling of the rings which held the portieres upon the pole across the archway between the two rooms, and by the gentle swaying of the draperies to and fro.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
ISABEL STEWART ASTOUNDS MR. G.o.dDARD.
But there was not a sound to be heard in the room beyond, although the curtains still continued to vibrate gently, thus showing the presence of some object that had caused the movement.
Mrs. Stewart arose to investigate, for the conversation in which she had been engaged and the story she was relating were of such a nature that she did not care to have a third party, especially a servant, overhear it.
She parted the draperies and looked curiously into the room beyond.
But her act only revealed a pretty maltese kitten, which, being thus aroused from its slumbers in its cozy place of concealment, rolled over on its back and began to play with the heavy fringe that bordered the costly hangings.
”Ah, Greylocks! so you are the rogue who has startled us!” said the lady, with an amused smile. ”I feared that we had an eavesdropper. You are a very innocent one, however, and we will not take the trouble to banish you.”
She went back to her chair rea.s.sured, and without a suspicion of the presence of one who hated her with a deadly hatred, and who still stood, pale and trembling, concealed by the voluminous folds of the draperies, but waiting with eager curiosity to overhear what should follow.
Meantime the maid who had admitted Mrs. G.o.ddard, feeling that she must become wearied with her long waiting, had returned to the reception-room to ascertain if she still desired to remain until her mistress should be at liberty; but finding it empty, had concluded that the lady had left the house, and so went about her business, thinking no more of the matter.
”Yes,” resumed Mrs. Stewart, after she had resumed her seat, ”I knew, from the description which my kind friends afterward gave me, that Anna Correlli had come there to a.s.sure herself that her rival was really dead. When--suspecting from her manner that she might know something about me--they questioned her, she told them that, 'from what she had read in the papers, she feared it might be some one whom she knew; but she was mistaken--I was nothing to her--she had never seen me before.' Then she went away with an air of utter indifference, and I was left fortunately to the kindness of that n.o.ble hearted brother and sister. They did everything that the fondest relatives could have done, and, in their divine pity for one so friendless and unfortunate, neglected not the smallest detail which they would have bestowed upon an own sister. Only they, besides the undertaker and the one Protestant pastor in the city, were present during the reading of the service; and when that was over, Willard Livermore, actuated by some unaccountable impulse, insisted upon closing the casket. He bent over me to remove a Roman lily which his sister had placed in my hands, and which he wished to preserve, and, while doing so, observed that my fingers were no longer rigid--that the nails were even faintly tinted. He was startled, and instantly summoned his sister. Hardly had her own fingers pressed my pulse in search of evidence of life, when my eyes unclosed and I moaned:
”'Don't let her come near me! She has stolen all the love out of my life!”
”Then I immediately relapsed again into unconsciousness without even knowing I had spoken. Later, when told of the fact, I could dimly recall the sensation of a sudden shock which was instantly followed by a vision of Anna Correlli's face and the sound of her voice, and I firmly believe, to-day, that it was her presence alone that startled my chilled pulses once more into action and thus awoke to new life the torpid soul which had so nearly pa.s.sed out into the great unknown.”
Could the narrator have seen the face of the listener outside, her tongue would have been paralyzed and the remainder of her story would never have been told; for Anna G.o.ddard, upon learning that she had been the means of calling back to earth the woman whose existence had shorn her of every future hope, looked--with her wild eyes and demoniac face--as if she could be capable of any act that would utterly annihilate the unsuspicious companion of the man whom her untamed soul wors.h.i.+ped as only such a fierce and selfish nature could wors.h.i.+p a human being.
But she made no sign or sound to betray her presence, for she was curious to hear the remainder of this strange story--to learn how her beautiful rival had risen from disgrace and obscurity to her present prosperity and enviable position in society.
”Of course,” Mrs. Stewart resumed, ”Mr. and Miss Livermore were both thrown into a state of great excitement at such an unexpected manifestation; but my words told them that there was some sad and mysterious story connected with my life and the rash deed I had committed, and they resolved to still surround me with their care and protection until I should recover--if that were possible--instead of committing me to a hospital, as many would have done.
”They bound both the clergyman and the undertaker to the strictest secrecy; then I was immediately conveyed to Miss Livermore's own room, where that n.o.ble girl cared for me as tenderly as a mother would nurse her own child. For weeks I hovered between life and death, then slowly began to mend. When I was able, I related to my kind friends the story of my wrongs, to receive only gentle sympathy and encouragement, instead of coldness and censure, such as the world usually metes out to girls who err as I had erred. As I grew stronger, and realized that I was to live, my mother-heart began to long for its child. Miss Livermore agreed with me that it would be better for me to have her, and went herself to make inquiries regarding her. But the nurse had moved and none of her neighbors could give any information about her, except that for a time she had charge of an infant, but after its parents had come to claim it, she had moved away, and no one could tell whither she had gone.
”From this I knew that my old friend, Edith Allendale, had responded n.o.bly to my appeal--that she had taken my child and adopted it as her own. At first I was inclined to be disappointed, and contemplated writing to Edith, telling her what had happened and ask her to surrender the little one to me; but after thinking the matter over more at length, I reasoned that it would be best to let everything rest just as it was. I knew that my darling would be tenderly reared in her new home; she would grow up to a happy womanhood without ever knowing of the blight that rested upon her birth, or that her father had been a villain, her mother a wronged and ruined woman--almost a suicide. So I decided that I would never reveal myself to my old friend, or undeceive her regarding my supposed fate, to disturb her peace or her enjoyment of the child.
”But, following the advice of my new friends, I finally wrote to my father and mother, confessing everything to them, imploring their forgiveness for the grief and shame I had brought upon them, and asking their counsel and wishes regarding my future. Imagine my joy and grat.i.tude when, three weeks later, they walked in upon me and took me at once to their hearts, ignoring all the past, as far as any censure or condemnation were concerned, and began to plan to make my future as peaceful and happy as circ.u.mstances would allow.
”They had come abroad with the intention of remaining, they told me; they would never ask me to return to my former home, where the fact that I had eloped with an artist was known, but would settle in London, where my father had some business interests, and where, surrounded by the mult.i.tude, our former friends would never be likely to meet us. We lived there, a quiet, peaceful, prosperous life, I devoting myself a.s.siduously to study to make up for what I had sacrificed by leaving school so early, and to keep my mind from dwelling upon my unhappy past.
”So the time slipped away until, five years ago, this tranquil life was suddenly interrupted by my father's death. Six months later my mother followed him, and I was again left alone, without a relative in the world, the sole heiress to a half-million pounds--”
”A half-million pounds?” interposed Gerald G.o.ddard, in a tone of amazement.