They walked back toward the railroad, and the train came rushing on with a thunderous roar.
There was not one thought of suicide in her mind—she had always thought it a weak and cowardly act—but somehow a mad longing for death—because life was so bitter—seized on unhappy Geraldine.
The train was so close that they must wait for it to pass before they could cross.
She darted suddenly from the side of Standish and threw herself face downward across the trembling rails.
[CHAPTER XIV.]
A THEATRE PARTY.
"Time flies. The swift hours hurry by
And speed us on to untried ways;
New seasons ripen, perish, die,
And yet love stays!
The old, old love—like sweet at first,
At last like bitter wine—
I know not if it blest or curst
Thy life and mine."
Harry Hawthorne called on Miss Carroll several times, but she always had the same discouraging story to tell—no answer from Geraldine to the letters she had written.