Then she saw Chester prone upon the ground, with blood streaming from a cut in his head down over his pallid face, while he held to his heart the slight figure of an unconscious girl. The bride knew the pale face instantly. It was the little cottage maiden, who had eloped with a mysterious lover whose identity no one knew.
“Oh, Chester, what does this mean? What has happened to you?” demanded the bride wildly, and turning his heavy eyes on her face, he groaned:
“Geraldine, I have sacrificed my life to save this poor girl!”
“Why did you do it? What is she to you?” fiercely.
Like an arrow from a bow straight to her heart came his answer:
“The truth is cruel to you, Geraldine, but I feel that I am dying, so I must make a full confession. I deceived this poor girl with a mock marriage, then deserted her, returning to make you my lawful bride. Realizing her despair, she has returned and chosen to die beneath my horses’ feet. I have given my life vainly in the effort to save poor little Daisy.”
Geraldine realized that people were crowding round about her, that the white face of the “best man” was close to hers, his arms shielding her from falling to the ground, but she kept her eyes glued on that pale, dying face, and her ears strained not to lose a sound of that weak, dying voice.
“Geraldine,” he faltered on, “I meant to marry you for wealth and position, but in my heart I loved Daisy best. I was not worthy of your love, but I pray you to forgive me, and to see that I am buried by the side of the girl who was my wife in the sight of Heaven.”
He had thought little Daisy dead, but suddenly her dim eyes flared open and rested adoringly on his face. Her dulled hearing had caught words that made her ineffably happy.
“Darling!” he muttered brokenly.