CHAPTER XIV.

A THEATRE PARTY.

"Time flies. The swift hours hurry by And speed us on to untried ways; New seasons ripen, perish, die, And yet _love stays_!

The old, old love--like sweet at first, At last like bitter wine-- I know not if it blest or curst Thy life and mine."

Harry Hawthorne called on Miss Carroll several times, but she always had the same discouraging story to tell--no answer from Geraldine to the letters she had written.

He gave up going at last, and tried to resign himself to his cruel disappointment.

"If she ever cared for me in the least, that villain Standish with his infernal arts, has turned her against me forever. But let him look out for himself if he ever returns to New York. We shall have a reckoning then, over my letter to Geraldine that he intercepted," he said to himself, bitterly and often.

Those were dreary days to the young fireman after he came out of the hospital and found Geraldine gone. People had always called him cold and unsocial somehow, and he became more reticent than ever now, going nowhere at all except when Captain Stansbury fairly dragged him to the house.

Mrs. Stansbury, as soon as she returned from Newburgh, had been anxious to renew her acquaintance with Geraldine, but meeting Standish on the street one day and asking after her, she was told that the young girl had lost her position at O'Neill's because of her trip to Newburgh and had gone back to her country home in consequence.

"Oh, I am so sorry, for I wished to cultivate her acquaintance, she was such a lovely girl!" the good-natured young woman said, regretfully:

"Yes, very pretty, but a shocking flirt! I got acquainted with her on the street by a handkerchief flirtation," laughed the actor, and he saw that the leaven worked. Mrs. Stansbury did not approve of forward girls, and her eagerness to see more of pretty Geraldine was at once abated.

She knew no better until weeks later, when her husband brought Hawthorne home for dinner, and discussing the pleasant times they had had at Newburgh, he told her of Geraldine's going on the stage with Standish.

Little by little all came out, and she exclaimed:

"Mr. Standish must have lied to me in saying that she had lost her place and gone home to the country, and that he made her acquaintance by a street flirtation."

"It was cruelly false," answered Hawthorne, who had heard from Cissy the whole story of the beginning of the acquaintance of the wily actor and the pretty shop-girl. He continued:

"He wished to prevent your further association with Geraldine, so as to keep her away from me."

"And he really intercepted your letter to her? I did not dream he was such a villain."

"He shall answer to me for that injury when we meet again," he said, so sternly that she saw that he was in bitter earnest.

She admired him for his manly resentment, and said, cordially:

"I do not blame you for wishing to punish him. Any manly man would do likewise. As for Geraldine, when she learns of his perfidy, she will turn from him in disgust."

"Unless she has learned to love the villain. Women are so faithful in their love even when the object is unworthy," he sighed.

Changing the subject, she continued:

"Do you know that Sister Daisy is to be married the week before Christmas?"

"Your husband told me."

"Yes? Well, the bridal party are to spend Christmas with me. The other girls--Carrie and Consuelo--are coming, too. I intend to have a theatre party on Christmas Eve--a box to ourselves--and I want you to join us, won't you? And bring some pretty girl with you, for my sisters will have their beaus."

"I don't know any girl," he began, then suddenly remembered pretty Cissy Carroll.

"Oh, yes, I'll join the party if I can get leave. And there's a girl I know--Miss Carroll--the very intimate friend of pretty Geraldine. I'll bring her, if she will accept an invitation."

"Very well, and you may take me to call on her in the meanwhile, and then I can ask her to the dance I'm going to give the girls," replied amiable Mrs. Stansbury.

And so it was arranged that Cissy made the acquaintance of the Stansbury clique, and fell in love with them as deeply as Geraldine had done.

And on Christmas Eve they all filled a box at the theatre--and a merry party they were, for even Harry Hawthorne unbent from the grave reserve that was habitual to him of late, and tried to make himself entertaining to gentle Cissy while the orchestra played and they waited for the first act.

"What is the play?" asked Hawthorne, for Captain Stansbury had secured the tickets, and reserved the name of the piece as a surprise to the party.

"It's 'Laurel Vane'--a society play, by a well-known author--and it is to be presented for the first time to-night," replied Captain Stansbury.

"I hope it is a good company," said his wife.

"Oh, yes--excellent. The Clemens Company. I know the manager well."

There was a start from all, and Mrs. Stansbury said, nervously:

"But I thought that company was on the road."

"They returned to New York yesterday, with this new play," replied the captain, who was not in the secret of Clifford Standish's villainy.

The orchestra stopped playing, and the curtain rose.