Pretty Geraldine, the New York Salesgirl; or, Wedded to Her Choice

What was born, and waxed, and yearned,
Year to year its meaning told,
I am come—its deeps are learned.
Come! but there is naught to say;
Married eyes with mine have met.
Silence! Oh, I had my day,
Margaret! Margaret!"

Poor Geraldine wished that the hands of time could turn back and delay the moment of her marriage, now so speedily approaching.

But the second act was over, the third and last began.

She was so nervous, it was the greatest wonder in the world that she did not forget her lines, and call down the ridicule of the audience. But she threw herself with abandon into the part. It was so tragic she could feel every word of it.

And so the end came.

It was the moment before the curtain fell, when the whole company were grouped upon the stage in the final tableau, that—a startling interruption occurred.

A deputy sheriff, with his aids, strode upon the stage, and clapped his hand on the shoulder of Clifford Standish.

"You are my prisoner!" he said, sternly; and added: "I have a warrant for your arrest for deserting your wife."

It was like a thunder-clap, so sudden and so startling.

The actor, at that moment, was holding Geraldine's hand in a fervent clasp, and he felt it turn cold as ice as she drew it from him in trembling horror.

He grew lividly pale beneath his stage make-up, but he tried to brazen it out by saying:

"Officer, you have made a mistake. I am not the man."

"Oh, yes, you are, Clifford Standish, and you must come with me to the Tombs at once," returned the deputy sheriff, with a satirical smile.

"I tell you it is a mistake; I have no wife, and this is a base attempt to injure an innocent man. I will prove it in court to-morrow," exclaimed the actor, putting on an air of injured innocence.

The audience was in an uproar, cries of sympathy and jeers of execration blending together. The accusation of the deputy sheriff had been heard by all. Mrs. Stansbury's box party looked and listened with breathless interest, and Cissy whispered to Hawthorne.

"Oh, the grand villain! trying to brazen it out! but I am sure that he is guilty. And poor Geraldine, how white and stricken she looks. I'm going down to her to persuade her to come home with me to-night."

"You must come with me," repeated the deputy sheriff, sternly, to Standish, and he answered, sullenly:

"Very well; but first let me speak to Miss Harding."

And while they guarded him closely, he whispered to the dazed and shrinking girl:

"For God's sake, do not believe the falsehood that has been trumped up against me by some enemy just to injure me in your regards. It is not true, and if you will only believe in me till to-morrow, I will prove it."

"I—I—will try to trust in you," she faltered, gently, but in her heart she knew that she was glad of this interruption to her wedding—knew that she hoped the charge was true.

If he had a wife already, he would be proved a villain, and she—Geraldine—would be free of the promise so rashly made.

"One more promise, my angel! Do not have anything to say to—to—my enemies in the box. They will try to turn your heart against me," he pleaded, feverishly.

"Come, come! I cannot wait any longer," the deputy sheriff said, roughly, and pulled him away before she could reply.

And the next moment Cissy's soft hand clasped hers, and her gentle voice said:

"Let us be friends again, dear Geraldine."

"Oh, Cissy, darling," and the pretty actress, whom all had been praising for her genius, fell into the other's arms, sobbing like a weary child.

"You poor, dear child!" cooed Cissy, patting the golden head. Then—"You'll come home with me for to-night, dear, won't you? I have a cab waiting."

Geraldine was only too glad to go. She hurried her friend to the dressing-room to wait while she got ready.

Cissy chatted incessantly:

"You didn't see us all, so grand in that box to-night, did you? I tried to catch your eye, but you never looked once! And poor Harry Hawthorne, how disappointed he was at your indifference!"

"Cissy!" and the pretty actress stamped her tiny foot angrily.

"Good gracious! What is the matter, my dear?"

"Never mention that man to me again! I hate him!"

"Who—Clifford Standish? I don't blame you! I've hated him ever since he first became known to me."

"No, no; I mean Harry Hawthorne!"

"Why, what has he done to you, Geraldine?"

"Has—hasn't he—gone and married Daisy Odell?" with a stifled sob.

CHAPTER XVIII.

REUNION

"Let us begin, dear love, where we left off;
Tie up the broken threads of that old dream;
And go on happy as before; and seem
Lovers again, though all the world may scoff.

"Let us forget the cold, malicious fate
Who made our loving hearts her idle toys,
And once more revel in the old sweet joys
Of happy love. Nay, it is not too late."

Cissy Carroll made big eyes of surprise at Geraldine's charge.

"Married Daisy Odell? Harry Hawthorne? Why, certainly not! Whatever put such an idea into your dear little noddle?" she demanded, in wonder.