"Through the blue and frosty heavens
Christmas stars were shining bright;
Glistening lamps throughout the city
Almost matched their gleaming light;
While the winter snow was lying,
And the winter winds were sighing,
Long ago one Christmas night."
We must follow Clifford Standish on his successful flight from justice that Christmas morning, when the spirit of the day was so much in every heart that no one who witnessed his escape cared to give chase to the fugitive. Perhaps, indeed, they thought that one who could outwit two stalwart policemen deserved his liberty.
Be that as it may, the actor made good his escape to a place of refuge, where he lay a while perdu, concocting new plans for retrieving last night's disaster.
The thought that he had lost pretty Geraldine forever was bitterness to his heart.
But he felt just as certain of it as if he had witnessed all that had transpired last night.
He knew well that when he was not by to guard Geraldine, that her friends in the box would swoop down upon her and carry her off in triumph.
There would be fond meetings, eager explanations, and all his treachery to her would be painted in its blackest colors. His only hold on her esteem, her touching belief in his truth and goodness, would be destroyed.
He would stand forth in his true colors before her horrified eyes—a black-hearted wretch, the husband of another woman, who had sought by the blackest lies and foulest arts to lure her—pretty Geraldine—to irrevocable ruin.
She would thank God that He had interfered in time to save her from him at almost the very last moment.