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

"It is a gentleman we knew in New York. If you will excuse me, I will go down, and I will be glad to have you accompany me."

Mrs. Fitzgerald protested that she was not able to see any one, and excused herself to Cissy, who hurried down to the caller.

We have read in a former chapter of the result of that interview, so we will follow Cissy, after his departure, back to the presence of Mrs. Fitzgerald.

"I fear I shall have to return to New York in a few days," she remarked, feeling that delicacy would suggest her leaving after Geraldine's strange desertion.

But Mrs. Fitzgerald raised an indignant protest.

"No, Cissy, you must not go. I have grown very fond of you, and why should you not remain with me?"

Cissy thanked her for her cordiality, but said, blushingly, that she must go back to work. She was to be married in the spring, and she must earn her wedding clothes.

"Married? Oh, dear! And to the gentleman who was calling just now, I suppose?"

"Yes, madame," owned Cissy, with the loveliest rose glowing on her soft cheeks.

"Tell me all about it!" cried the lady, kindly.

Cissy thought that this would involve too long a story, so she said, simply, that she and Mr. Clemens had been engaged years before, and had quarreled and parted. Now they had made it up again, and she had promised to marry him in the spring.

"I have a charming thought," cried the lady. "You shall not return to New York. Stay with me as my companion and friend, and be married here."

"My dear lady, you are too kind—but it would be impossible. There is my trousseau to be thought of, you know."

"Certainly, child. I was thinking of that. Leave it to me to provide the trousseau as my wedding gift to you. What? Too proud? Why, aren't you to be my companion? And, of course, I shall owe you as much as you could earn at O'Neill's—and more," softly. "My dear girl, don't refuse. Think how unhappy I am, and what a comfort you can be to me."

Cissy saw that the offer was affectionate and earnest, and came from the depths of a noble heart, so she accepted it most gladly.

The days came and went, until it was almost two weeks since Geraldine's elopement.

They had looked every day for a letter from her, telling them where she was, and perhaps pleading for pardon, and to be permitted to see her mother again.

But not a line was received from the truant.

"She is cruel, heartless! her father's child, not mine," cried poor Mrs. Fitzgerald, trying to steel her heart against the truant.

But one cold, snowy day toward the last of February—could they ever forget that day—a card was brought to the lady in her boudoir.

She glanced at it, and turned deadly pale.

The card bore a name she had reason to hate.

Harry Hawthorne

It fell from her trembling hands, and Cissy, glancing at it, exclaimed, joyously:

"We shall hear of Geraldine at last!"

"I cannot see him!" moaned Mrs. Fitzgerald, tremblingly.

"Oh, yes, you will. Come! I will go down with you. Courage! You will fall in love with your son-in-law at sight, and forgive him for stealing your daughter!" cried Cissy, encouragingly, taking her hand to lead her down.

And in a few more moments they stood in the presence of a man so strikingly handsome and debonair that Mrs. Fitzgerald could not help from thawing toward him a little as Cissy presented him. He was well-dressed, princely in manners and appearance. As far as looks and culture went, her favorite, Lord Putnam, could not surpass the New York fireman.

He looked disappointed somehow, and after the first few words were passed, ventured straight to the point.

"Mrs. Fitzgerald, I think your daughter has told you of me. We are betrothed, you know, and I hope her heart has not turned against me with her accession to fortune. May I hope that you will also smile on my suit, and permit me to see Geraldine?"

They stared at him in amazement, the two startled women. Why, what could he mean, with those strange words and that confident air?

Cissy recovered from her trance of surprise first, and exclaimed:

"Mr. Hawthorne, what can you mean? Geraldine is not here. We supposed she was with you!"

"With me?—how strange! Why, Miss Carroll, I haven't seen her since Christmas Eve. Do not tell me that harm has come to my darling!"

CHAPTER LIV.

"WILL YOU BID ME GODSPEED."

"I reach into the dark, O Love!
I reach into the dark.
I cannot find thee; and my groping hands
Touch only memories and phantom shapes.

"I call into the dark, O Love!
I call into the dark.
There comes from out the hush above, below,
No answer but my own quick-fluttered breath."

Harry Hawthorne had sprung to his feet, pale with emotion, as he stood before Cissy, repeating the words:

"With me? How strange! Why, I have not seen her since Christmas. Do not tell me that harm has come to my darling!"

With the utterance of his words a terrible comprehension dawned on Mrs. Fitzgerald.

She understood that she had been horribly deceived, that Geraldine had not gone away to marry her lover, but had been entrapped into some terrible fate.

The fear of Clifford Standish's vengeance for the scorn she had heaped on him pierced her heart like a knife-thrust.

For two weeks Geraldine had been missing.

And no search had been made, because it was believed that she was safe and happy with her heart's choice, Harry Hawthorne.

But, instead, she had become the victim of a terrible doom.

The horror of her apprehensions overcame the mother's heart, and she fell forward in a heavy swoon.