"I will do it!" she murmured, "I will go back at once to New York--I will ascertain what this advertis.e.m.e.nt means, then I will tell him all that has happened to me here, and ask him if there is any way by which I can be released from this dreadful situation, into which I have been trapped. I am sure he will help me, if any one can."
A faint, tender smile wreathed her lips as she mused thus, and recalled her last interview with Royal Bryant; his fond, eager words when he told her of her complete vindication at the conclusion of her trial in New York--of his tender look and hand-clasp when he bade her good-by at the door of the carriage that bore her home to her mother.
She began to think that she had perhaps not used him quite fairly in running away and hiding herself thus from him who had been so true a friend to her; and yet, if she remained in his employ, and he had asked her to be his wife, she knew that she must either have refused him, without giving him a sufficient reason, or else confessed to him her shameful origin.
"It would have been better, perhaps, if I had never come away," she sighed, "still it is too late now to regret it, and all I can do is to comply with the request of this "personal." I would leave this very night, only there are some things at the other house that I must take with me. But to-morrow night I will go, and I shall have to steal away, or they will find some way to prevent my going. I will not even tell dear Mrs. Weld, although she has been so kind to me; but I will write and explain it all to her after my arrival in New York."
Having settled this important matter in her mind, Edith went quietly downstairs, and returned the paper to the library, after which she repaired to the tiny room where she and Mrs. Weld were in the habit of taking their meals.
The kind-hearted woman chided her for coming down two flights of stairs, while she was still so weak; but Edith a.s.sured her that she really began to feel quite like herself again, and could not think of allowing her to wait upon her when she was so weary from her own numerous duties.
They had a pleasant chat over their meal, the young girl appearing far more cheerful than one would have naturally expected under existing circ.u.mstances. She flushed with painful embarra.s.sment, however, when a servant came in to wait upon them, and gave her a stare of undisguised astonishment, which plainly told her that he thought her place was in the dining-room with the family.
She understood by it that all the servants knew what had occurred the previous night, and believed her to be the wife of Emil Correlli.
But nothing else occurred to mar the meal, and when it was finished Edith started to go up to her room again.
She went up the back way, hoping thus to avoid meeting any member of the family.
She reached the landing upon the second floor and was about to mount another flight when there came a swift step over the front stairs, and, before she could escape, Emil Correlli came into view.
Another instant and he was by her side.
"Edith!" he exclaimed, astonished to see her there, "where have you been?"
"Down to my dinner," she quietly replied, but confronting him with undaunted bearing.
"Down to your dinner?" he repeated, flushing hotly, a look of keen annoyance sweeping over his face. "If you were able to leave your room at all, your place was in the dining-room, with the family, and," he added, sternly, "I do not wish any gossip among the servants regarding my--wife."
It was Edith"s turn to flush now, at that obnoxious term.
"You will please spare me all allusion to that mockery," she bitterly, but haughtily, retorted.
"It was no mockery--it was a _bona fide_ marriage," he returned. "You are my lawful wife, and I wish you, henceforth, to occupy your proper position as such."
"I am not your wife. I shall never acknowledge, by word or act, any such relationship toward you," she calmly, but decidedly, responded.
"Oh, yes you will."
"Never!"
"But you have already done so, and there are hundreds of people who can prove it," he answered, hotly, but with an air of triumph.
"It will be a comparatively easy matter to make public a true statement of the case," said the girl, looking him straight in the eyes.
"You will not dare set idle tongues gossiping by repudiating our union!" exclaimed the young man, fiercely.
"I should dare anything that would set me free from you," was the dauntless response.
Her companion gnashed his teeth with rage.
"You would find very few who would believe your statements," he said; "for, besides the fact that hundreds witnessed the ceremony last night, the papers have published full accounts of the affair, and the whole city now knows about it."
"I know it--I have read the papers," said Edith, without appearing in the least disconcerted.
"What! already?"
"Yes."
"Well, what did you think of the account?" her companion inquired, regarding her curiously.
"That it was simply another clever piece of duplicity on your part, the only object of which was the accomplishment of your nefarious purposes. I believe you yourself were the author of it."
Emil Correlli started as if he had been stung.
He did not dream that she would attribute the article to him--the last thing he could wish would be that she should think it had emanated from his pen.
Nevertheless, his admiration for her was increased tenfold by her shrewdness in discerning the truth.
"You judge me harshly," he said, bitterly.
"I have no reason for judging you otherwise," Edith coldly remarked; then added, haughtily: "Allow me to pa.s.s, sir, if you please."
"I do not please. Oh, Edith, pray be reasonable; come into Anna"s boudoir, and let us talk this matter over amicably and calmly," he pleaded, laying a gentle hand upon her arm.
She shook it off as if it had been a reptile.
"No, sir; I shall discuss nothing with you, either now or at any other time. If," she added, a fiery gleam in her beautiful eyes, "it is ever discussed in my presence it will be before a judge and jury!"
The man bit his lips to repress an oath.
"Yes, Anna told me you threatened that; but I hoped it was only an idle menace," he said. "Do you really mean that you intend to file an application to have the marriage annulled?"
"Most a.s.suredly--at least, if, indeed, after laying the matter before the proper authorities, such a formality is deemed necessary," said the girl, with a scornful inflection that cut her listener to the quick.
He grew deadly white, more at her contemptuous tones than her threat.
"Edith--what can I say to win you?" he cried, after a momentary struggle with himself. "I swear to you that I cannot--will not live without you. I will be your slave--your lightest wish shall be my law, if you will yield this point--come with me as my honored wife, and let me, by my love and unceasing efforts, try to win even your friendly regard. I know I have done wrong," he went on, a.s.suming a tone and air of humility; "I see it now when it is too late. I ask you to pardon me, and let me atone in whatever way you may deem best. See!--I kneel--I beg--I implore!"
And suiting the action to the words, he dropped upon one knee before her and extended his hands in earnest appeal to her.
"In whatever way I may deem best you will atone?" she repeated, looking him gravely in the face. "Then make a public confession of the fraud of which you have been guilty, and give me my freedom."
"Ah, anything but that--anything but that!" he exclaimed, flushing consciously beneath her gaze.
She moved back a pace or two from him, her lips curling with contempt.
"Your appeal was but a wretched farce--it is worse than useless--it is despicable," she said, with an accent that made him writhe like a whipped cur.