THE VENOM OF JEALOUSY.
And thus Edith became companion to the wife of the wealthy and
aristocratic Gerald Goddard, who was known as one of Boston's
millionaires.
They had a beautiful home on Commonwealth avenue, where they spent
their winters, a fine estate in Wyoming, besides a villa at Newport,
all of which were fitted up with an elegance which bespoke an
abundance of means. And so Edith was restored to a life of luxury akin
to that to which she had always been accustomed, previous to the
misfortunes which had overtaken her less than two years ago.
Her duties were comparatively light, consisting of reading to Mrs.
Goddard, whenever she was in the mood for such entertainment; singing
and playing to her when she was musically inclined; and accompanying
her upon drives and shopping expeditions, when she had no other
company.
Edith, however, was not long in the household before she made the
discovery that there was a skeleton in the family. At times Mr.
Goddard was morose and irritable, and his wife displayed symptoms of
intense jealousy. About five weeks after Edith's installation in the
home, Mrs. Goddard's brother, Monsieur Correlli, a young sculptor,
came there, on a visit to his sister. He was handsome and talented,
and had come from France, to "do the United States," during a long
vacation.
Mrs. Goddard was proud of her brother, and often attended receptions
and parties with him as her escort, and was delighted to show him off
to her friends and acquaintances in the most select of Boston society.
On returning to her home, after one of these receptions, she heard
merry laughter in the library. Listening attentively, she discovered
that it emanated from her husband and Edith, who sometimes, at his
request, read to him during the frequent absences of his wife.
The demon of jealousy at once took possession of her. Suddenly
entering the library she requested Edith to at once attend her in her
boudoir. On arriving there the enraged woman gave way to her passion
of jealousy. In blunt words she taunted the girl with attempting to
steal the affections of her husband, and closed her bitter comments
with the threat that "the woman who tried to win my husband from me
would never accomplish her purpose. _I would kill her!"_
Edith did her best to assure the angry woman that her suspicions were
unfounded, and in a little time Mrs. Goddard was half convinced that
she had been too hasty in her accusations.
That night the pure girl calmly deliberated upon the subject, and
recalled several occasions when Mr. Goddard had seemed to be deeply
absorbed in the contemplation of her features, eyeing her with glances
of undisguised admiration and rapture. She determined, therefore, to
be a little more circumspect hereafter, and avoid giving him such
opportunities.
Another trial awaited her about a week later. Emil Correlli had become
quite attentive to her, seeking every chance to be alone with her,
showering compliments upon her, and extolling her charms. On one of
these occasions he was bold enough to propose marriage, and, before
she could recover from her astonishment, had the effrontery to steal a
kiss from her unwilling lips.
This bold affront, added to the previous unfounded accusations of Mrs.
Goddard made Edith decide to leave the house at once. She announced
her decision to her mistress; but that lady, in great humiliation,
begged her to overlook her brother's impetuosity, saying that his
conduct should be considered only "a tribute to her manifold charms,"
and that hereafter she would have no cause for complaint of either him
or her.
The proud woman's deep contrition, and her earnest appeals, had the
effect intended, and Edith decided to remain.
That evening a prolonged interview occurred between Mrs. Goddard and
her brother. The result of it was that the sister agreed to do her
utmost to place Edith beyond the reach of her husband by combining a
scheme which would make her the bride of Emil Correlli.
Some days elapsed, and then an incident worthy of record occurred.
Edith had been out for a stroll, and, just as she was retracing her
steps along Commonwealth avenue, an elegant carriage came slowly
around the corner. The driver was in dark green livery, and seemed to
be under the influence of stimulants. Suddenly he leaned sideways, and
fell off the box, landing on the ground.
Edith impulsively started forward, shouted "Whoa!" to the horses, and
lifted the reins. The animals stopped immediately, and in a moment a
lovely face was thrust from the carriage window, and a sweet voice
asked,
"Thomas, what is the matter?--what has happened?"
She stepped from the carriage and was soon informed of the accident,
and its probable cause. She was a tall, elegantly-formed woman, of
perhaps forty-three years, with large, dark brown eyes and rich brown
hair. Her skin was fair and flawless, as that of a girl of twenty,
with a delicate flush upon her cheeks, and Edith thought her face the
most beautiful she had ever seen.
A policeman presently appeared upon the scene, and the lady requested
him to secure some competent person who would drive the vehicle to its
stable. To secure attention to this request, she gave the policeman a
bank note, and named the location of the stable. She then said to the
coachman, who was engaged in brushing the dust from his clothing:
"Thomas, you may come to me at nine o'clock to-morrow morning--without
the carriage."
As the coachman staggered off, the lady turned to Edith, thanked her
for the service she had performed, and gave her a card bearing a name
and address--"Mrs. I. G. Stewart, Copley Square Hotel, Boston, Mass."
At the solicitation of the lady, Edith gave her name, and stated that
she was the companion to Mrs. Gerald Goddard, of Commonwealth avenue.
This information caused Mrs. Stewart to turn pale, and otherwise
manifest a strange agitation. She quickly recovered, however, and
stated:
"Ah! I was introduced to Mrs. Goddard's brother, Monsieur Correlli, a
few evenings ago, but I have never had the pleasure of meeting Mrs.
Goddard. Now it is time for me to go, and I shall have to take an
electric car to get back to my hotel. Again let me thank you for your
timely service. I hope you and I will meet again some time; and, dear,
if you should ever need a friend, do not fail to come to me.
Good-afternoon."
Shortly after the departure of Mrs. Stewart, as Edith was walking
homeward, she was overtaken by Emil Correlli, who begged permission to
attend her, as they were both bound for the same destination. It would
have been rude to refuse, so Edith consented, although she would have
preferred to go alone.
They had not advanced far before Edith became aware that they were
followed by a woman, who kept parallel with them, on the opposite side
of the street. Monsieur Correlli seemed unconscious of this fact, as
he was apparently engrossed in the effort to entertain his companion
with animated conversation. When they were within a few yards of Mrs.
Goddard's residence, the woman suddenly darted across the avenue and
placed herself directly in their path.
In an instant Emil Correlli seemed turned to stone, so motionless and
rigid did he become. For a full minute his gaze was riveted upon the
stranger, as if in horrible fascination.
"_Giulia!_" he breathed, at last, in a scarcely audible voice. "_Le
diable!_"
The woman had a veil over her face, but Edith could see that she was
very handsome, with a warm, Southern kind of beauty, although it was
of a rather coarse type. She was evidently a foreigner, with brilliant
black eyes, an olive complexion, scarlet lips and cheeks, and a wealth
of purple-black hair, which was coiled in a massive knot at the back
of her head.
She was of medium height, with a plump but exquisitely proportioned
figure, as was revealed by her closely-fitting garment of navy-blue
velvet.
The moment Emil Correlli spoke her name, she burst passionately forth,
and began to address him in rapidly uttered sentences of some foreign
language, which Edith could not understand.
It was not French, for she could converse in that tongue, and she knew
it was not German. She therefore concluded it must be either Italian
or Spanish.
As the girl talked, her eyes roved from the man's face to Edith's,
with angry, jealous glances, while she gesticulated wildly with her
hands, and her voice was fierce and intense with passion.
She would not give Monsieur Correlli an opportunity to say one word,
until she had exhausted her seemingly endless vocabulary; but he was
as colorless as a piece of his own statuary, and a lurid, desperate
light burned in his eyes--a gleam, which, if she had been less intent
upon venting her own passion, would have warned her that she was doing
her cause, whatever it might be, more harm than good by the course she
was adopting.
At last she paused in her tirade, simply because she lacked breath to
go on, when Emil Correlli replied to her, in her own tongue, and with
equal fluency; but in tones that were both stern and authoritative,
while it was evident that he was excessively annoyed by her sudden and
unexpected appearance there.
Finally, after another attempt upon the girl's part to carry her
point, he stamped his foot imperatively, to emphasize some command,
and, with a look which made her cringe like a whipped cur before him;
when, shooting a glance of fire and hate at Edith, she turned away,
with a crestfallen air, and went, dejectedly, down the street.
Edith would have been glad, and had tried, to escape from this scene,
for after the first moment of surprise upon being so unceremoniously
confronted by the beautiful stranger, she had stepped aside, ascended
the steps, and rang the bell.
But, for some reason, no one came to the door, and she was obliged to
repeat the summons, but feeling very awkward to have to stand there
and listen to the altercation that was being carried on so near her,
although she could not understand a word that was said.
At last, just as Monsieur Correlli had delivered his authoritative
command, the butler made his appearance, and let Edith in.
Before she could enter, the woman was gone, and Emil Correlli sprang
up the steps, and was by her side.
He glanced anxiously down upon her face, which wore a grave and
pre-occupied look.
He knew that she was wondering who the fiery, but beautiful and
richly-dressed stranger was; knew that she could not fail to believe
that there must be something suspicious and mysterious in his
relations with her, and he was greatly exercised over the unfortunate
encounter.
He had set his heart upon winning her--he had vowed that nothing
should stand in the way of her becoming his wife, and now this--the
worst of all things--had happened, to compromise him in her eyes, and
he secretly breathed the fiercest anathemas upon the head of the
marplot who had just left them.
Later that evening, Emil Correlli took the first opportunity to
explain the unfortunate _contretemps_ to the wondering Edith. He
stated that the girl was the daughter of an Italian florist, who had
audaciously presumed to dun him for a small bill he owed her father
for floral purchases.
This matter, satisfactorily explained, as he thought, he renewed his
protestations of love to Edith, solicited her hand in marriage, and
was staggered by her emphatic refusal.
Her refusal was reported to Mrs. Goddard by that lady's brother, and
she counseled him to be patient.
"I have in mind," she said, "the germ of a most cunning plot, which
must succeed in your winning Edith Allen," and then she proceeded to
unfold her plan, which, for boldness, craft, and ingenuity, would have
been worthy of a French _intriguante_ of the seventeenth century.
"Anna, you are a trump!" Emil Correlli exclaimed, admiringly, when she
concluded. "If you can carry that out as you have planned it, it will
be a most unique scheme--the best thing of its kind on record!"
"I can carry it out if you will let me do it in my own way; only you
must take yourself off. I will not have you here to run the risk of
spoiling everything," said Mrs. Goddard, with a determined air.
"Very well, then; I will go this very night. I will take the eleven
o'clock express on the B. and A. I have such faith in your genius that
I am willing to be guided wholly by you, and trust my fate entirely in
your hands."
"I can write you from time to time, as the plan develops," she
replied, "and send you instructions regarding the final act."
"All right, go ahead--I give you _carte blanche_ for your expenses,"
said Monsieur Correlli, as he rose to leave the room.
Five hours later, he was fast asleep in a Pullman berth, and flying
over the rails toward New York.
Meanwhile Edith, who was inclined to leave the house, and throw
herself upon the kindness of Mrs. Stewart, found her mistress
unusually gracious, seeking her aid in forwarding invitations for a
reception, and in planning for what she called "a mid-winter frolic."
She also incidentally announced, to the great gratification of Edith,
that Monsieur Correlli had hurriedly departed for New York, with the
intention of being absent a considerable time.
Little did Edith then suspect that she was assisting in a plan which
was intended to force her into a detested marriage.