Chapter XXXI: Acquitted of All Blame

“We get back our mete as we measure--
We cannot do wrong and feel right;
Nor can we give pain and feel pleasure,
For Justice avenges each slight.
The air for the wing of the sparrow,
The bush for the robin and wren,
But always the path that is narrow
And straight for the children of men.”

To-morrow comes the inquest over that cold shrouded horror lying in the long drawing-room of the stately mansion that seems still to echo the steps of the wedding guests--the still form lying low with the crimson spot in the forehead showing where the fatal ball had sped on its errand of death.

The coroner and jury find their task soon over. There is no difficulty in reaching a verdict. Witness after witness deposes to the facts of the case. The shooting is declared accidental, and the verdict is rendered accordingly. Earle Essex goes forth from the trial a free man.

But, alas! he celebrated his victory by plunging immediately into a prolonged and disgraceful debauch.

A few more days elapse, and the dead man is given a costly funeral, and borne to a grave in the shades of Hollywood. Eve, in the character of his widow, draped in sable robes, follows him to the grave, then returns to the mansion, and “sets up housekeeping,” as she calls it, in rather dreary style, receiving visits of condolence from curious friends who silently wonder how it is all going to end--in Eve’s defeat or Madame Orne’s.

The latter is lying dangerously ill at Vivian’s humble home, and life and death waver in the balance. Charlton sends her the best doctor in the city; he provides her with every needful comfort, and amuses his little nephew daily, thus leaving his sister free to give every attention to her guest. Viva thinks gratefully how good it is to care in this way for poor Madame Orne, to whom she used to seem so carelessly indifferent.

But in one heart at least there is no echo to Vivian’s prayer for Madame Orne’s recovery.

Eve Kingsley, or Mrs. Orne, as she styles herself, feels bitter, and bad, and wicked, and hopes fervently that the sick woman may soon die, and leave her in peaceable possession of the dead man’s wealth. Her relations and a little coterie of interested friends sustain her in her rebellion against the inevitable and encourage her to hope for success, if she has to go to law with the rival claimant.

“I will never give up without a hard fight,” vows Eve, and engages a lawyer to defend her cause.

In November the invalid convalesces, and by the advice of her friends begins suit for the ejectment of Miss Kingsley from the premises on Grace street. So the battle begins, and people look on with curious eyes.