"Why, yes, certainly; I did not love him; I would not marry any one whom I could not love," Edith replied, with a little scornful curl of her lips at the astonished interruption, which had betrayed that her guest thought no girl could be indifferent to the charms of the man whom she so adored.
"He was offended," Edith resumed, "and insisted that he would not take my refusal as final. When I finally convinced him that I meant what I had said, he and his sister plotted together to accomplish their object, and make me his wife by strategy. Madam planned a winter frolic at her country residence; she wrote the play of which you have an account in that paper; she chose her characters, and it was rehearsed to perfection. At the last moment, on the evening of its presentation before her friends, she removed the two principal characters—telling me that they had been called home by a telegram—and substituted her brother and me in their places. She did not even tell me who was to take the gentleman's place—she simply said a friend; it was all done so hurriedly there was no time, apparently, for explanations. And then—oh! it is too horrible to think of!" interposed Edith, bringing her hands together with a despairing gesture, "she had that ordained minister come on the stage and legally marry us. From beginning to end it was all a fraud!"
"Stop, girl! and swear that you are telling me the truth!" cried her strange companion, as she stepped close to Edith's side, laid a violent hand upon her arm, and searched her face with a look that must have made her shrink and cower if she had been trying to deceive.
"Oh, I would give the world if it were not true!" Edith exclaimed, with an earnestness that could not be doubted—"if the last scene in that drama had never been enacted, or if I could have been warned in time of the treachery of which I was being made the victim!"
"Suppose you had been warned!" demanded her guest, still clutching her arm with painful force, "would you have dared refuse to do their bidding?"
"Would I have dared refuse?" exclaimed Edith, drawing herself haughtily erect. "No power on earth could have made me marry that man."
"I don't know! I don't know! He is rich, handsome, talented," muttered the other, regarding her suspiciously. "Will you swear that it was fraud—that you did not know you were being married to him? Do not try to lie to me," she went on, warningly. "I came here this afternoon with a heart full of bitter hatred toward you; in my soul I believe I was almost a murderess. But—if you also are the victim of a bad man's perfidy, then we have a common cause."
"I have told you only the truth," responded Edith, gravely. "Monsieur Correlli was utterly repulsive to me, and I never could have consented to marry him, under any circumstances. I know he is considered handsome—I know he is rich and talented; but all that would be no temptation to me—I could never sell myself for fortune or position. I am very sorry if you have been made unhappy because of me," she went on gently; "but I have not willfully wronged you in any way. And if you have come here to tell me that you are Monsieur Correlli's wife, you have saved me from a fate I abhorred—and I shall be—I am free! and I shall bless you as long as I live!"