The Masked Bridal Part 50

Even as he spoke her breast heaved once--then again, and all was still.

Who shall describe the misery that surged over Gerald G.o.ddard's soul as he looked upon the still form and realized that the grandly beautiful woman, who for twenty years had reigned over his home, was no more--that never again would he hear her voice, either in words of fond adoration or in pa.s.sionate anger; never see her again, arrayed in the costly apparel and gleaming jewels which she so loved, mingling with the gay people of the world, or graciously entertaining guests in her own house?

He felt almost like a murderer; for, in spite of Dr. Hunt's verdict that she had died of "sudden heart failure," he feared that the proud woman had been so crushed by what she had overheard in Isabel Stewart's apartments that she had voluntarily ended her life.

It was only a dim suspicion--a vague impression, for there was not the slightest evidence of anything of the kind, and he would never dare to give voice to it to any human being; nevertheless, it pressed heavily upon his soul with a sense of guilt that was almost intolerable.

A message was immediately sent flying over the wires to New York to inform Emil Correlli of the sad news, and eight hours later he was back in Boston crushed for the time by the loss of the sister for whom he entertained perhaps the purest love of which his selfish heart was capable of experiencing.

We will not dwell upon the harrowing events of the next few days.

Suffice it to say that society, or that portion of it that had known the brilliant Mrs. G.o.ddard, was greatly shocked by the sudden death of one of its "brightest ornaments," and gracefully mourned her by covering her costly casket with choicest flowers; then closed up its ranks and went its way, trying to forget the pale charger which they knew would come again and again upon his grim errand.

The day following Anna Correlli's interment in Forest Hill Cemetery, Mr. G.o.ddard and his brother-in-law were waited upon by the well-known lawyer, Arthur Clayton, who informed them that he had an important communication to make to them.

"Two days previous to her death I received this note from Mrs.

G.o.ddard," he remarked, at the same time handing a daintily perfumed missive to the elder gentleman. "In it you will observe that she asks me to come to her immediately. I obeyed her, and found her looking very ill, and seemingly greatly distressed in body and mind. She told me she was impressed that she had not long to live--that she had an affection of the heart that warned her to put her affairs in order.

She desired me to draw up a will at once, according to her instructions, and have it signed and witnessed before I left the house. I did so, calling in at her request two witnesses from a neighboring drug store, after which she gave the will into my keeping, to be retained until her death. This is the doc.u.ment, gentlemen," he remarked, in conclusion, "and here, also, is another communication, which she wrote herself and directed me to hand to you, sir."

He arose and pa.s.sed both the will and the letter to Mr. G.o.ddard, who had seemed greatly agitated while he was speaking.

He simply took the letter, remarking:

"Since you are already acquainted with the contents of the will, sir, will you kindly read it aloud in our presence?"

Mr. Clayton flushed slightly as he bowed acquiescence.

The doc.u.ment proved to be very short and to the point, and bequeathed everything that the woman had possessed--"excepting what the law would allow as Gerald G.o.ddard's right"--to her beloved brother, Emil Correlli, who was requested to pay the servants certain amounts which she named.

That was all, and Mr. G.o.ddard knew that in the heat of her anger against him she had made this rash disposition of her property--as she had the right to do, since it had all been settled upon her--to be revenged upon him by leaving him entirely dependent upon his own resources.

At first he experienced a severe shock at her act, for the thought of poverty was anything but agreeable to him.

He had lived a life of idleness and pleasure for so many years that it would not be an easy matter for him to give up the many luxuries to which he had been accustomed without a thought or care concerning their cost.

But after the first feeling of dismay had pa.s.sed, a sense of relief took possession of him; for, with his suspicions regarding the cause of Anna's death, he knew that he could never have known one moment of comfort in living upon her fortune, even had she left it unreservedly to him rather than to her brother.

Emil Correlli was made sole executor of the estate; and, as there was nothing further for Mr. Clayton to do after reading the will, he quietly took his departure leaving the two men to discuss it at their leisure.

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

"YOU WILL VACATE THESE PREMISES AT YOUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE."

"Well, Gerald, I must confess this is rather tough on you!" Monsieur Correlli remarked, in a voice of undisguised astonishment, as soon as the lawyer disappeared. "I call it downright shabby of Anna to have left you so in the lurch."

"It does not matter," returned the elder man, but somewhat coldly; for, despite his feeling of relief over the disposition of her property, he experienced a twinge of jealousy toward the more fortunate heir, whose pity was excessively galling to him under the circ.u.mstances.

Although the two men had quarreled just before Monsieur Correlli's departure for New York, all ill-feeling had been ignored in view of their common loss and sorrow, and each had conducted himself with a courteous bearing toward the other during the last few days.

"What in the world do you suppose possessed her to make such a will?"

the young man inquired, while he searched his companion's face with keen scrutiny. "And how strange that she should have imagined all of a sudden that she was going to die, and so put her affairs in order!"

Mr. G.o.ddard saw that he had no suspicion of the real state of things, and he had no intention of betraying any secrets if he could avoid doing so.

No one--not even her own brother--should ever know that Anna had not been his wife. He would do what he could to s.h.i.+eld her memory from every reproach, and no one should ever dream that--he could not divest himself of the suspicion--she had died willfully.

Therefore, he replied with apparent frankness:

"I think I can explain why she did so. On the day of our return from Wyoming, Anna and I had a more serious quarrel than usual; I never saw her so angry as she was at that time; she even went so far as to tell me that she hated me; and so, I presume, in the heat of her anger, she resolved to cut me off with the proverbial s.h.i.+lling to be revenged upon me."

"Well, she has done so with a vengeance," muttered his brother-in-law.

"I went to her afterward and tried to make it up," his companion resumed, "but she would have nothing to say to me. She was looking very ill, also; and when the next morning she sent me word that she was not able to join me at breakfast, I went again to her door and begged her to allow me to send for Dr. Hunt, but she would not even admit me."

"What was this quarrel about?"

"Oh, almost all our quarrels have been about a certain doc.u.ment which has long been a bone of contention between us, and this one was an outgrowth from the same subject."

"Was that doc.u.ment a certificate of marriage?" craftily inquired Emil Correlli.

"Yes."

"Gerald, were you ever really married to Anna?" demanded the young man, bending toward him with an eager look.

His companion flushed hotly at the question, and yet it a.s.sured him that he did not really know just what relations his sister had sustained toward him.

"Isn't that a very singular question, Emil?" he inquired, with a cool dignity that was very effective. "What led you to ask it?"

"Something that Anna herself once said to me suggested the thought,"

Emil replied. "I know, of course, the circ.u.mstances of your early attachment--that for her you left another woman whom you had taken to Rome. I once asked Anna the same question, but she would not answer me directly--she evaded it in a way to confirm my suspicions rather than to allay them. And now this will--it seems very strange that she should have made it if--"

"Pray, Emil, do not distress yourself over anything so absurd," coldly interposed Gerald G.o.ddard, but with almost hueless lips. "However, if you continue to entertain doubts upon the subject, you have but to go to the Church of the ---- the next time you visit Rome, ask to see the records for the year 18--, and you will find the marriage of your sister duly recorded there."

"I beg your pardon," apologized the doubter, now fully rea.s.sured by the above shrewdly fas.h.i.+oned answer, "but Anna was always so infernally jealous of you, and made herself so wretched over the fear of losing your affection, that I could think of no other reason for her foolishness. Now, about this will," he added, hastily changing the subject and referring to the doc.u.ment. "I don't feel quite right to have all Anna's fortune, in addition to my own, and no doubt the poor girl would have repented of her rash act if she could have lived long enough to get over her anger and realize what she was doing. I don't need the money, and, Gerald, I am willing to make over something to you, especially as I happen to know that you have sunk the most of your money in unfortunate speculations," the young man concluded, Mr.

G.o.ddard's sad, white face appealing to his generosity in spite of their recent difference.

"Thank you, Emil," he quietly replied; "but I cannot accept your very kind offer. Since it was Anna's wish that you should have her property, I prefer that the will should stand exactly as she made it.

I cannot take a dollar of the money--not even what 'the law would allow' in view of our relations to each other."

Those last words were uttered in a tone of peculiar bitterness that caused Monsieur Correlli to regard him curiously.

"Pray do not take it to heart like that, old boy," he said, kindly, after a moment, "and let me persuade you to accept at least a few thousands."

"Thank you, but I cannot. Please do not press the matter, for my decision is unalterable."