Behind A Mask, Or A Woman's Power, A. M. Barnard [best books to read now .TXT] 📗

thanks for the honor." And Edward's lip curled with intense scorn. But Gerald sat like a statue, his teeth set, his eyes fiery, his brows bent, waiting for the end.

"The passionate boy nearly killed his brother, but I turned the
affair to good account, and bewitched Monsieur by playing nurse,
till Vashti (the icicle) interfered. Then I enacted injured virtue,
and kept out of his way, knowing that he would miss me, I mystified
him about S. by sending a letter where S. would not get it, and got
up all manner of soft scenes to win this proud creature. I get on
well and meanwhile privately fascinate Sir J. by being daughterly
and devoted. He is a worthy old man, simple as a child, honest as
the day, and generous as a prince. I shall be a happy woman if I win
him, and you shall share my good fortune; so wish me success.

"This is the third, and contains something which will surprise you," Edward said, as he lifted another paper.

"Hortense:

"I've done what I once planned to do on another occasion. You know
my handsome, dissipated father married a lady of rank for his second
wife. I never saw Lady H----d but once, for I was kept out of the
way. Finding that this good Sir J. knew something of her when a
girl, and being sure that he did not know of the death of her little
daughter, I boldly said I was the child, and told a pitiful tale of
my early life. It worked like a charm; he told Monsieur, and both
felt the most chivalrous compassion for Lady Howard's daughter,
though before they had secretly looked down on me, and my real
poverty and my lowliness. That boy pitied me with an honest warmth
and never waited to learn my birth. I don't forget that and shall
repay it if I can. Wishing to bring Monsieur's affair to a
successful crisis, I got up a theatrical evening and was in my
element. One little event I must tell you, because I committed an
actionable offense and was nearly discovered. I did not go down to
supper, knowing that the moth would return to flutter about the
candle, and preferring that the fluttering should be done in
private, as Vashti's jealousy is getting uncontrollable. Passing
throught the gentlemen's dressing room, my quick eye caught sight of
a letter lying among the costumes. It was no stage affair, and an
odd sensation of fear ran through me as I recognized the hand of S.
I had feared this, but I believe in chance; and having found the
letter, I examined it. You know I can imitate almost any hand. When
I read in this paper the whole story of my affair with S., truly
told, and also that he had made inquiries into my past life and
discovered the truth, I was in a fury. To be so near success and
fail was terrible, and I resolved to risk everything. I opened the
letter by means of a heated knife blade under the seal, therefore
the envelope was perfect; imitating S.'s hand, I penned a few lines
in his hasty style, saying he was at Baden, so that if Monsieur
answered, the reply would not reach him, for he is in London, it
seems. This letter I put into the pocket whence the other must have
fallen, and was just congratulating myself on this narrow escape,
when Dean, the maid of Vashti, appeared as if watching me. She had
evidently seen the letter in my hand, and suspected something. I
took no notice of her, but must be careful, for she is on the watch.
After this the evening closed with strictly private theatricals, in
which Monsieur and myself were the only actors. To make sure that he
received my version of the story first, I told him a romantic story
of S.'s persecution, and he believed it. This I followed up by a
moonlight episode behind a rose hedge, and sent the young gentleman
home in a half-dazed condition. What fools men are!"

"She is right!" muttered Coventry, who had flushed scarlet with shame and anger, as his folly became known and Lucia listened in astonished silence.

"Only one more, and my distasteful task will be nearly over," said Edward, unfolding the last of the papers. "This is not a letter, but a copy of one written three nights ago. Dean boldly ransacked Jean Muir's desk while she was at the Hall, and, fearing to betray the deed by keeping the letter, she made a hasty copy which she gave me today, begging me to save the family from disgrace. This makes the chain complete. Go now, if you will, Gerald. I would gladly spare you the pain of hearing this."

"I will not spare myself; I deserve it. Read on," replied Coventry, guessing what was to follow and nerving himself to hear it. Reluctantly his brother read these lines:

"The enemy has surrendered! Give me joy, Hortense; I can be the
wife of this proud monsieur, if I will. Think what an honor for the
divorced wife of a disreputable actor. I laugh at the farce and
enjoy it, for I only wait till the prize I desire is fairly mine, to
turn and reject this lover who has proved himself false to brother,
mistress, and his own conscience. I resolved to be revenged on both,
and I have kept my word. For my sake he cast off the beautiful woman
who truly loved him; he forgot his promise to his brother, and put
by his pride to beg of me the worn-out heart that is not worth a
good man's love. Ah well, I am satisfied, for Vashti has suffered
the sharpest pain a proud woman can endure, and will feel another
pang when I tell her that I scorn her recreant lover, and give him
back to her, to deal with as she will."

Coventry started from his seat with a fierce exclamation, but Lucia bowed her face upon her hands, weeping, as if the pang had been sharper than even Jean foresaw.

"Send for Sir John! I am mortally afraid of this creature. Take her away; do something to her. My poor Bella, what a companion for you! Send for Sir John at once!" cried Mrs. Coventry incoherently, and clasped her daughter in her arms, as if Jean Muir would burst in to annihilate the whole family. Edward alone was calm.

"I have already sent, and while we wait, let me finish this story. It is true that Jean is the daughter of Lady Howard's husband, the pretended clergyman, but really a worthless man who married her for her money. Her own child died, but this girl, having beauty, wit and a bold spirit, took her fate into her own hands, and became an actress. She married an actor, led a reckless life for some years; quarreled with her husband, was divorced, and went to Paris; left the stage, and tried to support herself as governess and companion. You know how she fared with the Sydneys, how she has duped us, and but for this discovery would have duped Sir John. I was in time to prevent this, thank heaven. She is gone; no one knows the truth but Sydney and ourselves; he will be silent, for his own sake; we will be for ours, and leave this dangerous woman to the fate which will surely overtake her."

"Thank you, it has overtaken her, and a very happy one she finds it."

A soft voice uttered the words, and an apparition appeared at the door, which made all start and recoil with amazement--Jean Muir leaning on the arm of Sir John.

"How dare you return?" began Edward, losing the self-control so long preserved. "How dare you insult us by coming back to enjoy the mischief you have done? Uncle, you do not know that woman!"

"Hush, boy, I will not listen to a word, unless you remember where you are," said Sir John with a commanding gesture.

"Remember your promise: love me, forgive me, protect me, and do not listen to their accusations," whispered Jean, whose quick eye had discovered the letters.

"I will; have no fears, my child," he answered, drawing her nearer as he took his accustomed place before the fire, always lighted when Mrs. Coventry was down.

Gerald, who had been pacing the room excitedly, paused behind Lucia's chair as if to shield her from insult; Bella clung to her mother; and Edward, calming himself by a strong effort, handed his uncle the letters, saying briefly, "Look at those, sir, and let them speak."

"I will look at nothing, hear nothing, believe nothing which can in any way lessen my respect and affection for this young lady. She has prepared me for this. I know the enemy who is unmanly enough to belie and threaten her. I know that you both are unsuccessful lovers, and this explains your unjust, uncourteous treatment now. We all have committed faults and follies. I freely forgive Jean hers, and desire to know nothing of them from your lips. If she has innocently offended, pardon it for my sake, and forget the past."

"But, Uncle, we have proofs that this woman is not what she seems. Her own letters convict her. Read them, and do not blindly deceive yourself," cried Edward, indignant at his uncle's words.

A low laugh startled them all, and in an instant they saw the cause of it. While Sir John spoke, Jean had taken the letters from the hand which he had put behind him, a favorite gesture of his, and, unobserved, had dropped them on the fire. The mocking laugh, the sudden blaze, showed what had been done. Both young men sprang forward, but it was too late; the proofs were ashes, and Jean Muir's bold, bright eyes defied them, as she said, with a disdainful little gesture. "Hands off, gentlemen! You may degrade yourselves to the work of detectives, but I am not a prisoner yet. Poor Jean Muir you might harm, but Lady Coventry is beyond your reach."

"Lady Coventry!" echoed the dismayed