It fell from her trembling hands, and Cissy, glancing at it, exclaimed, joyously:
"We shall hear of Geraldine at last!"
"I cannot see him!" moaned Mrs. Fitzgerald, tremblingly.
"Oh, yes, you will. Come! I will go down with you. Courage! You will fall in love with your son-in-law at sight, and forgive him for stealing your daughter!" cried Cissy, encouragingly, taking her hand to lead her down.
And in a few more moments they stood in the presence of a man so strikingly handsome and debonair that Mrs. Fitzgerald could not help from thawing toward him a little as Cissy presented him. He was well-dressed, princely in manners and appearance. As far as looks and culture went, her favorite, Lord Putnam, could not surpass the New York fireman.
He looked disappointed somehow, and after the first few words were passed, ventured straight to the point.
"Mrs. Fitzgerald, I think your daughter has told you of me. We are betrothed, you know, and I hope her heart has not turned against me with her accession to fortune. May I hope that you will also smile on my suit, and permit me to see Geraldine?"
They stared at him in amazement, the two startled women. Why, what could he mean, with those strange words and that confident air?
Cissy recovered from her trance of surprise first, and exclaimed: