“Col. Schuyler, you need not fear for Godfrey. He never made love to me, though I think,—I believe it would be easy for me to tempt him to do so, but I shall not try. I will not be the serpent in your Eden, or sting the hand which has fed me. You have been too kind to me for that. I shall not prove ungrateful.”
“God bless you, Gertie. I was sure you would do right. It is more necessary to me than you know that Godfrey should marry Alice, and you have lifted a great burden from my heart. Godfrey is impulsive and hot-headed, and easily influenced, and seeing you every day might be won from his allegiance, especially as I do not think his whole heart is in this marriage; but it must be, and, Gertie, if he should come to you with words of love, promise me you will refuse to listen. I shall feel secure then. I can trust you, I know. Will you promise, Gertie?”
He held his hand toward the little, cold, white fingers resting on the table, and which crept slowly on till they lay in his grasp, while Gertie said:
“I promise, Colonel Schuyler; but,—but,—Godfrey,—I did not know before that I loved him so much until now that I am giving him up forever.”
Oh, what a piteous voice it was, and how the slight frame shook with suppressed sobs and tears while the colonel sat watching and wishing so much to comfort her. But he could not, and he let her cry on for a few moments, when he said:
“Gertie, your distress pains me greatly, but you are young and will outlive this fancy; and, Gertie, it has occurred to me that you may wish to go away for the summer while the young people are here, but I would rather you should stay. Mrs. Schuyler would be very unhappy without you, while Godfrey, I think, would be discontented and follow you, perhaps. It is better, on the whole, to stay: and Gertie, I need not ask that this interview shall be a secret between us. Not even my wife must know of it.”
Gertie hesitated a moment, and then replied:
“Colonel Schuyler, if a time ever comes when Godfrey speaks to me of love I shall refuse him, as I promised, but I shall tell him why. I must do that, you know!”
And with this Colonel Schuyler was obliged to be content. He had gained his point, and looked upon his son’s marriage with Alice as a sure thing, and he felt very kind and tender toward the young girl whose heart he had wrung so cruelly, and whose sad face smote him as he bade her good-night and blessed her for what she had promised.
The next morning Gertie was suffering from a severe headache and did not appear at breakfast or lunch, but she was better in the afternoon and was able to walk to Edith’s boudoir, where she lay upon the couch and had her dinner brought to her. As she was about to eat it a voice said at the door: “May I come in?” and, without waiting for an answer, Godfrey entered the room. He had heard from Edith that she was there, and declining the dessert, had excused himself from the table and gone directly to her.