The conductor was very proud and happy over his agency in restoring Geraldine to her mother's arms, but while he was declining her promised reward, he was called away, and then Mrs. Fitzgerald turned again to her daughter's suitor.
"Are you satisfied with my proofs?" she demanded, icily.
"Perfectly, madame, and I hope you will permit me to express my joy at your reunion with your daughter."
"I thank you, and I have a request to make of you. I wish to be left alone with my daughter at present. Will you kindly respect this desire, and call on me later in Chicago, where I will consider your claims for my Geraldine's hand?" said Mrs. Fitzgerald, presenting him with a card on which was engraved her address on Prairie avenue.
Thus coolly dismissed, and not daring to protest against the authority of the haughty lady, Standish bowed and withdrew to another seat in the same coach, where he covertly watched them without daring to intrude his hated presence on them.
"Ah my darling, how strangely all this has happened!" cried the lady.
"How strangely and how fortunately!" echoed Geraldine, gladly.
"But, oh, how sad that it did not happen sooner—before my darling husband died! Oh, how he would have loved you for my sake, Geraldine; for he was so good to me, he made me so happy, that no grief remained in my heart for that false one who deserted me for a wicked woman, and then stole you away from me!" cried her mother, her mournful thoughts reverting to that loved lost one whose pulseless form had now been conveyed to another coach to be made ready for its last long sleep.
"Oh, my mother, how can I comfort you for your sad loss?" cried Geraldine, tenderly.