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Transcriber's Note:
The Table of Contents is not part of the original book.
THE MASKED
BRIDAL
_By_ MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON
AUTHOR OF
"Edrie's Legacy," "Max," "Faithful Shirley,"
"Marguerites Heritage," "A True
Aristocrat," etc.
A. L. BURT COMPANY
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
Copyright 1894, 1895, 1900
BY STREET & SMITH
* * * * *
Contents
Page
PROLOGUE. 3
I TWO UNEXPECTED VISITORS. 5
II A STANCH FRIEND MAKES A VAIN APPEAL. 11
III THE YOUNG LAWYER EXPERIENCES TWO EXTRAORDINARY
SURPRISES. 16
IV A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 20
V A MOTHER'S LAST REQUEST. 26
VI A HERITAGE OF SHAME. 30
VII TWO NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 36
VIII THE VENOM OF JEALOUSY. 43
IX THE HOUSEKEEPER AT WYOMING. 50
X "THE GIRL IS DOOMED! SHE HAS SEALED HER OWN FATE!" 58
XI "NOW MY VINDICATION AND TRIUMPH WILL BE COMPLETE!" 65
XII THE MASKED BRIDAL. 71
XIII THE DASTARDLY PLOT IS REVEALED. 79
XIV "YOUR FAITHLESSNESS TURNED ME INTO A DEMON." 88
XV "OH, GOD! I KNEW IT! YOU ARE ISABEL!" 95
XVI "YOU SHALL NEVER WANT FOR A FRIEND." 104
XVII "WOULD YOU DARE BE FALSE TO ME, AFTER ALL
THESE YEARS?" 111
XVIII "I SHALL NEVER FORGIVE EITHER OF YOU FOR YOUR
SIN AGAINST ME." 119
XIX "I WILL NEVER BREAK BREAD WITH YOU, AT ANY TABLE." 128
XX EDITH RESOLVES TO MEET HER ENEMIES WITH THEIR
OWN WEAPONS. 137
XXI A MYSTERIOUS STRANGER PAYS EDITH AN UNEXPECTED
VISIT. 146
XXII "I WILL RISE ABOVE MY SIN AND SHAME!" 154
XXIII A SURPRISE AT THE GRAND CENTRAL STATION. 164
XXIV A SAD STORY DISCLOSED TO AN EAGER LISTENER. 173
XXV A NEW CHARACTER IS INTRODUCED. 181
XXVI AN EXCITING INTERVIEW AND AN APPALLING DISCOVERY. 189
XXVII MRS. GODDARD BECOMES AN EAVESDROPPER. 199
XXVIII ISABEL STEWART ASTOUNDS MR. GODDARD. 208
XXIX "OUR WAYS PART HERE, NEVER TO CROSS AGAIN." 217
XXX "I HATE YOU WITH ALL THE STRENGTH OF MY ITALIAN
BLOOD." 226
XXXI RECORDS SOME STARTLING DEVELOPMENTS. 234
XXXII "YOU WILL VACATE THESE PREMISES AT YOUR EARLIEST
CONVENIENCE." 242
XXXIII MR. BRYANT MEETS WITH UNEXPECTED DIFFICULTIES. 250
XXXIV AN UNEXPECTED MEETING RESULTS IN A WONDERFUL
DISCOVERY. 259
XXV "THAT MAN MY FATHER!" 268
XXXVI FURTHER EXPLANATIONS BETWEEN MOTHER AND DAUGHTER. 276
XXXVII "MY DARLING, YOU ARE FREE!" 285
XXXVIII AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. 292
XXXIX CONCLUSION. 298
* * * * *
THE MASKED BRIDAL.
PROLOGUE.
The most important and the most sacred event in a woman's life is her
marriage. It should never be lightly considered, no matter what may be
the allurement--honor, wealth, social position. To play at marriage,
even for a plausible pretext, is likely to be very imprudent, and may
prove a sin against both God and man.
The story we are about to tell chiefly concerns a refined and
beautiful girl who, for the ostensible entertainment of a number of
guests, agreed to represent a bride in a play.
The chief actors, just for the sake of illustrating a novel situation,
and perhaps to excite curiosity among the spectators, were to have
their faces concealed--it was to be a masked bridal.
Already the guests are assembled, and, amid slow and solemn music, the
principals take their places.
The clergyman, enacted by a gentleman who performs his part with
professional gravity and impressive effect, utters the solemn words
calling for "any one who could show just cause why the two before him
should not be joined in holy wedlock, to speak, or forever hold his
peace."
At the sound of these words, the bride visibly shudders; but as she is
masked, it can only be inferred that her features must indicate her
intense emotion.
But why should she exhibit emotion in such a scene? Is it not a play?
She cannot be a clever actress when she forgets, at such a time, that
it is the part of a bride--a willing bride--to appear supremely happy
on such a joyous occasion.
It is strange, too, that as the bride shudders, the bridegroom's hand
compresses hers with a sudden vigorous clutch, as if he feared to lose
her, even at that moment.
Was it merely acting? Was this "stage business" really in the play? Or
was it a little touch of nature, which could not be suppressed by the
stage training of those inexperienced actors?
The play goes on; the entranced spectators are now all aroused from
the apathy with which some of them had contemplated the opening part
of the remarkable ceremony.
As the groom proceeds to place the ring upon the finger of the bride,
she involuntarily resists, and tries to withdraw her hand from the
clasp of her companion. There is an embarrassing pause, and for an
instant she appears about to succumb to a feeling of deadly faintness.
She rouses herself, however, determined to go on with her part.
Every movement is closely watched by one of the witnesses--a woman
with glittering eye and pallid cheek. When the bride's repugnance
seemed about to overmaster her, and perhaps result in a swoon, this
woman gave utterance to a sigh almost of despair and with panting
breath and steadfast gaze anxiously watched and waited for the end of
the exciting drama.
The grave clergyman notices the bride's heroic efforts to restrain her
agitation, and the ceremony proceeds. At length the solemn sentence is
uttered which proclaims the masked couple man and wife.
Then there is a great surprise for the spectators.
As they behold the bride and groom, now unmasked, there is a stare of
wonder in every face, and expressions of intense amazement are heard
on all sides.
Then it dawns upon the witnesses that the principal actors in the play
are not the persons first chosen to represent the parts of the bride
and groom.
Why was a change made? What means the unannounced substitution of
other actors in the exciting play?
Ask the woman who caused the change--the woman who, with pallid cheek
and glittering eye, had intently watched every movement of the
apparently reluctant bride, evidently fearing the failure of the play
upon which she had set her heart.
It became painfully evident that the play was not ended yet, and some
there present had reason to believe that it was likely to end in a
tragedy.
Now let us portray the events which preceded the masked bridal.
CHAPTER I.
TWO UNEXPECTED VISITORS.
It was a cold, raw night in December, and the streets of New York
city, despite their myriads of electric lights and gayly illuminated
shop windows, were dismal and forlorn beyond description.
The sky was leaden. A piercing wind was blowing up from the East
River, and great flakes of snow were beginning to fall, when, out of
the darkness of a side street, there came the slight, graceful figure
of a young girl, who, crossing Broadway, glided into the glare of the
great arclight that was stationed directly opposite a pawnbroker's
shop.
She halted a moment just outside the door, one slender,
shabbily-gloved hand resting irresolutely upon its polished knob,
while an expression of mingled pain and disgust swept over her pale
but singularly beautiful face.
Presently, however, she straightened herself, and throwing up her head
with an air of resolution, she turned the knob, pushed open the door,
and entered the shop.
It was a large establishment of its kind, and upon every hand there
were indications that that relentless master, Poverty, had been very
busy about his work in the homes of the unfortunate, compelling his
victims to sacrifice their dearest possessions to his avaricious
grasp.
The young girl walked swiftly to the counter, behind which there stood
a shrewd-faced Israelite, who was the only occupant of the place, and
whose keen black eyes glittered with mingled admiration and cupidity
as they fastened themselves upon the lovely face before him.
With an air of quiet dignity the girl lifted her glance to his, as she
produced a ticket from the well-worn purse which she carried in her
hand.
"I have come, sir, to redeem the watch upon which you loaned me three
dollars last week," she remarked, as she laid the ticket upon the
counter before him.
"Aha! an' so, miss, you vishes to redeem de vatch!" remarked the man,
with a crafty smile, as he took up the ticket under pretense of
examining it to make sure that it was the same that he had issued to
her the week previous.
"Yes, sir."
"An' vat vill you redeem 'im mit?" he pursued, with a disagreeable
leer.
"With the same amount that you advanced me, of course," gravely
responded the girl.
"Ah! ve vill zee--ve vill zee! Vhere ish de money?" and the man
extended a huge soiled hand to her.
"I have a five-dollar gold-piece here," she returned, as she took it
from her purse and deposited it also upon the counter; for she shrank
from coming in contact with that repulsive, unwashed hand.
The pawnbroker seized the coin greedily, his eyes gleaming hungrily at
the sight of the yellow gold, while he examined it carefully to assure
himself that it was genuine.
"So! so! you vill vant de vatch," he at length observed, in a sullen
tone, as if he did not relish the idea of returning the valuable
time-piece upon which he had advanced the paltry sum of three dollars.
"Vell!" and irritably pulling out a drawer as he spoke, he dropped the
coin into it. "Ah!" he cried, with a sudden start and an angry frown,
as it dropped with a ringing sound upon the wood, "vat you mean? You
would sheat me!--you vould rob me! De money ish not goot--de coin ish
counterfeit! I vill send for de officer--you shall pe arrested--you
von little meek-faced robber! Ah!" he concluded, in a shrill tone of
well-simulated anger, as he shook his fist menacingly before his
companion.
The fair girl regarded him in frightened astonishment as he poured
forth this torrent of wrathful abuse upon her, while her beautiful
blue eyes dilated and her delicate lips quivered with repressed
excitement.
"I do not understand you!--what do you mean, sir?" she at length
demanded, when she could find voice for speech.
"You play de innocence very vell!" he sneered; then added, gruffly:
"You vill not get der vatch, for you haf prought me bad money."
"You are mistaken, sir; I have just received that gold-piece from a
respectable lawyer, for whom I have been working during the week, and
I know he would not take advantage of me by paying me with counterfeit
money," the young girl explained; but she had, nevertheless, grown
very pale while speaking.
"Ah! maybe not--maybe not, miss; not if he knew it," said the
pawnbroker, now adopting a wheedling and pitiful tone as he drew forth
the shining piece and pushed it toward her. "Somebody may haf sheeted
him; but it haf not der true ring of gold, and you'll haf to bring me
der t'ree dollars some oder time, miss."
The girl's delicate face flushed, and tears sprang to her eyes. She
stood looking sadly down upon the money for a moment, then, with a
weary sigh, replaced it in her purse, together with the ticket, and
left the shop without a word; while the tricky pawnbroker looked after
her, a smile of cunning triumph wreathing his coarse lips, as he
gleefully washed his hands, behind the counter, with "invisible soap
in imperceptible water."
"Oh, mamma! poor mamma! what shall I do?" murmured the girl, with a
heart-broken sob, as she stepped forth upon the street again. "I was
so happy to think I had earned enough to redeem your precious watch,
and also get something nice and nourishing for your Sunday dinner; but
now--what can I do? Oh, it is dreadful to be so poor!"
Another sob choked her utterance, and the glistening tears rolled
thick and fast over her cheeks; but she hurried on her way, and, after
a brisk walk of ten or fifteen minutes, turned into a side street and
presently entered a dilapidated-looking house.
Mounting a flight of rickety stairs, she entered a room where a dim
light revealed a pale and wasted woman lying upon a poor but
spotlessly clean couch.
The room was also clean and orderly, though very meagerly furnished,
but chill and cheerless, for there was not life enough in the
smoldering embers within the stove to impart much warmth with the
temperature outside almost down to zero.
"Edith, dear, I am so glad you have come," said a faint but sweet
voice from the bed.
"And, mamma, I never came home with a sadder heart," sighed the weary
and almost discouraged girl, as she sank upon a low chair at her
mother's side.
"How so, dear?" questioned the invalid; whereupon her daughter gave an
account of her recent interview with the pawnbroker.
"I know Mr. Bryant would never have given me the gold-piece if he had
not supposed it to be all right, for he has been so very kind and
considerate to me all the week," she remarked, in conclusion, with a
slight blush. "I am sure he would exchange it, even now; but he left
the office at four, and I do not know where he lives; so I suppose I
shall have to wait until Monday; but I am terribly disappointed about
the watch, while we have neither food nor fuel to get over Sunday
with."
The sick woman sighed gently. It was the only form of complaint that
she ever indulged in.
"Perhaps the money is not counterfeit, after all," she remarked, after
a moment of thought. "Perhaps the pawnbroker did not want to give up
the watch, and so took that way to get rid of you." "That is so! how
strange that I did not think of it myself!" exclaimed Edith, starting
eagerly to her feet, the look of discouragement vanishing from her
lovely face. "I will go around to the grocery at once, and perhaps
they will take the coin. What a comforter you always prove to be in
times of trouble, mamma!" she added, bending down to kiss the pale
face upon the pillow. "Cheer up; we will soon have a blazing fire and
something nice to eat."
She again put on her jacket and hat, and drew on her gloves,
preparatory to going forth to breast the storm and biting cold once
more.
"I cannot bear to have you go out again," said her mother, in an
anxious tone.
"I do not mind it in the least, mamma, dear," Edith brightly
responded, "if I can only make you comfortable over Sunday. Next week
I am to go again to Mr. Bryant, who thinks he can give me work
permanently. You should see him, mamma," she went on, flushing again
and turning slightly away from the eyes regarding her so curiously;
"he is so handsome, so courteous, and so very kind. Ah! I begin to
have courage once more," she concluded, with a little silvery laugh;
then went out, shutting the door softly behind her.
Half an hour later she returned with her arms full of packages, and
followed by a man bearing a generous basketful of coal and kindlings.
Her face was glowing, her eyes sparkling, and she was a bewildering
vision of beauty and happiness.
"The money wasn't bad, after all mamma," she said, when the man had
departed; "they didn't make the slightest objection to taking it at
the grocery. I believe you were right, and that the pawnbroker did not
want to give up the watch, so took that way to get rid of me. But I
will have it next week, and I shall have a policeman to go with me to
get it."
"Did you tell the grocer anything about the trouble you have had?" the
invalid inquired.
"No, mamma; I simply offered the coin in payment for what I bought,
and he took it without a word," Edith replied, but flushing slightly,
for she felt a trifle guilty about passing the money after what had
occurred.
"I almost wish you had," said her mother.
"I thought I would, at first, but--I knew we must have something to
eat, and fuel to keep us warm between now and Monday, and so I allowed
the grocer to take it upon his own responsibility," the young girl
responded, with a desperate little glitter in her lovely eyes.
Her companion made no reply, although there was a shade of anxiety
upon her wan face.
Edith, removing her things, bustled about, and soon had a cheerful
fire and an appetizing meal prepared.
Her spirits appeared to rise with the temperature of the room, and she
chatted cheerfully while about her work, telling a number of
interesting incidents that had occurred in connection with her
employment during the week.
"Now come, mamma," she remarked, at length; "let me help you into your
chair and wheel you up to the table, for supper is ready, and I am
sure you will enjoy these delicious oysters, which I have cooked as
you like them best."
Mother and daughter were chatting pleasantly, enjoying their meal,
when the door of their room was thrown rudely open and two men strode
into their presence.
Edith started to her feet in mingled indignation and alarm, then grew
deadly pale when she observed that one of the intruders was an
officer, and the other the grocer of whom she had made her recent
purchases.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" she demanded, trying in vain
to keep her tones steady and her heart from sinking with a terrible
dread.
"There! Mr. Officer; that is the girl who passed the counterfeit money
at my store," the grocer exclaimed, his face crimson with anger.
Edith uttered a smothered cry of anguish, then sank weakly back into
her chair, as the man went forward to her side, laid his hand upon
her shoulder, and remarked:
"You are my prisoner, miss."