"Why, Jennie!" I cried, somewhat indignantly. "What do you mean by jumping on my lap in this unceremonious manner? Where is Geraldine? Go tell her I want to see her at once."
I was getting angry; but, would you believe it? that child went on playing with her doll and completely ignored me! It was too much; I wondered whether the whole town were in a conspiracy to drive me crazy. In despair I resolved to see Geraldine at once, and at the risk of being shot for a burglar, I turned to the door the little girl had fortunately left open and walked in.
As I entered the hall my foot slipped on the marble tiling and I fell heavily against an exquisite bisque head standing on the newel post. When I picked myself up, sufficiently sore from my fall to be convinced that it was a real one, the bisque figure-head was standing safely and smiling at me—it was a-laughing head—in a way I conceived to be particularly exasperating. I was so excited by this time that I struck it a furious blow with my fist, and still that infernal head stood and grinned at me!
If I did not see Geraldine soon I felt that I would go mad, so I marched upstairs until I came to the door of her room. I knocked gently on the door; there was no sound! I tried the handle with the same ill success as before. This was the last straw. I confess I stood at that door and shouted and screamed and kicked it,—pounded on it until I sank exhausted on the floor,—and still no thought of my real condition entered my head.
It happened that in my present situation my eyes were just on a level with the key-hole. I peeped in. There was Geraldine; I could see her plainly; and in another moment I saw her take a letter from her dress, kiss it passionately, and burst into a storm of sobs and tears. I was so wrought up by this time that in spite of my fatigue I jumped to my feet, and in another second I found myself by her side.
She was clad in some soft white wrapper, her hair all unbound, and was kneeling with her face in her arms on a chair. I was inexpressibly touched by her heart-broken attitude. I had never been anything but a very formal lover, as I said before; however, I thought the circumstances might warrant me in waiving a little ceremony, especially as she evidently needed a comforter sadly, so I walked quickly over to her and laid my hand on her shoulder.
"Geraldine," I said, "my darling, I am here to help you. Geraldine, won't you speak to me?"
There was no answer and no intermit to the sobs and tears she was pouring on my letter. I thought this was pushing shyness to the limit, and I had never suspected her of being timid. However, as she made no objection to my hand being on her shoulder, I thought that was a good sign, and I knelt down beside her and slipped my arm around her neck and said,—
"Geraldine dearest, do not cry so,—courage,—it will be all right—" (Pause.) "Won't you speak to me? Please, please look at me!" (Longer pause.) "Geraldine!" I shouted, savagely, "look at me at once or I'll leave you forever!"
No response of any kind!