"Ah! that accounts for all. The wretch intercepted our letters to each other, just as he did Mr. Hawthorne's letters to you."
"I do not understand," said Geraldine; so they told her the story of the actor's treachery.
Everything lay bare before her now, and she comprehended that all she had suffered since her parting with Harry Hawthorne had been brought about by a deep-laid plot, involving both her happiness and honor; for what if she had married Standish to-night—he, who already had a wife, whom he had deserted!
Her honor would have been trampled in the dust; her life wrecked, to gratify the base passion of this monster, whom she had mistakenly believed the embodiment of truth and goodness.
Trembling with horror at all that she had so narrowly escaped, Geraldine bowed her head in her hands and sobbed aloud.
And Harry Hawthorne longed to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he did not have the right yet, for only words of friendship had been spoken between them, and he feared and dreaded that she had given her young heart to the wretch who had succeeded so well in his vile plans for parting them in the first flush of their sweet love-dream.
But now they were at home, and, bidding the cabman wait, he went in with the girls, saying:
"I know it is rather late to make a call, but something impels me to have a talk with Miss Harding to-night, if she will permit me."
She gave a glad assent, seconded by Cissy, who said, cordially: