Geraldine's Husband

Chapter I

. IS it ay ? is it no ? i VE no patience with people who make a failure of their lives," said Geraldine. She stood looking across the shining river, with the light from the setting sun gleaming on her proud young face and steady eyes. Her companion smiled in half-bitter amusement. " Your choice of terms is scarcely happy, Miss Rivers. I don't suppose the generality of people make a failure of their lives. Rather, failure is thrust upon them." Geraldine tossed her head with a little gesture of scorn. " People should be strong enough to over-master fate," she answered, with the unhesitating decision of youth. " I expect, if you examined most cases of failure, you would find they have generally come through the person's own fault." " What is your recipe for success, then ? " " Ah, you are laughing !

" said Geraldine, quickly. " But I don't care, I'm convinced I'm right, though you do look so sceptical." " Indeed, I'm only too impatient to be convinced ! " cried the man, with an air of injured innocence. " Please tell the ingredi ents necessary for success, and I shall owe you my deepest gratitude." Geraldine was by no means averse to expounding her theories, and heedless of her companion's slightly scoffing expression pro ceeded to her task with a good deal of enjoyment. " First you must have an object in life ; have it clearly before you, and never forget it for a moment." " Well, granted that ; what follows ? " said the man, a graver expression coming over the look of amusement he had hitherto worn. " Then you must have an unflinching will," continued Geraldine. " It is no good having A RECIPE FOR SUCCESS. 11 an object in life, if you have not strength of mind to live up to it.

You may as well be content at once to drift without any attempt to steer your own course." " But circumstances may be too strong for you," argued the man. " And suppose your object in life clashes with other people's interests, which is to give way ? " There was a moment's hesitation, and then the girl said, rather weakly, " But I don't want to suppose that ; why should it?" " Why ? That is an easy question to ask," said her companion with a short laugh ; "but unfortunately a difficult one to answer. As a matter of fact, I can only say it generally does." For a moment Geraldine's satisfied ex pression gave place to one of puzzled doubt. Then she recovered herself, and with her favourite little toss of the head, said, half merrily, half-defiantly — " Well, I'm determined my object in life shall do no harm to any one.

In fact, I mean to do a great deal of good, if only I get what I want." "And that is— ?" ' ' To be rich, and happy, and — and, oh, just to have a good time, you know. It's not likely I shall stay for ever at old Mrs. Fairfax's ; I've had quite enough of it already. I hate teaching, and the very first opportunity I have I shall give it up." There was a moment's silence ; the girl, lost in her own thoughts had forgotten her companion : he on the other hand was watching her with an intent look in his dark eyes, and several times made a movement to speak, and each time checked himself again. She was so calm, so unconscious, — he did not want to startle her. " Perhaps the opportunity will come sooner than you expect," he said presently, with assumed carelessness, but something in his tone recalled Geraldine's wandering attention.

" How do you mean ? " she asked carelessly. " Let it come when it likes, it will never be a bit too soon for me ! Three years of school drudgery have made me think any change must be for the better." " This change certainly ought to be so," said the man. " Has it never entered into your head, Miss Rivers, that you may — marry ? " " Really, Mr. King," began Geraldine, with IS IT A Y? 13 some astonishment ; then she broke off in a little peal of laughter, — "why, what a ridiculous idea ! Whoever is there in Crosley to marry ? " " Well, to start with," said the man in a tone whose assumed lightness could not wholly conceal the earnestness that lay beneath, " there's — there's — me." But still the girl thought he was jesting, and did not attempt to answer him seriously. It was not until after some minutes that it really dawned upon her that Stephen King was asking her to be his wife.

" Indeed, I never thought — I never dreamt — how can I marry you ? I haven't known you long enough," she stammered. " Please, I should like to go home. Oh, Mr. King, how can I promise to marry you ? It is all so sudden — oh, please don't talk any more about it ; indeed, I can't marry you." " Wait a minute, I'm not going*- to take your answer now," said King, his abrupt decision silencing her confused utterances. " You are startled, and of course you cannot make up your mind in a hurry. I shall give you a week to think over it, and then I shall ask you for your answer. At least you will promise to meet me here again, to tell me what you decide ? " " Oh, yes, I will do that," said Geraldine, eager to grasp at any respite, so that she might escape for the moment. " Next Thursday at seven, I will come, but I warn you that it will be only to say good bye."

If Geraldine had looked into Stephen's face just then she would have seen an expression of confidence little warranted by her words. But she was too eager to get off as quickly as possible to notice shades of meaning, and even his farewell words were scarcely heeded in her hasty departure. Left alone, Stephen King proceeded to select and light a cigar with a good deal of deliberation. "She's mine -ten to one she consents," he remarked, with a smile of quiet self-com placence. " I thought it was a hopeless case at first ; but a week will give her time to come to her senses. Once she consented to wait till then I knew I was safe. The chances are all on my side. An uncomfortable home — a plaintive step-mother ; a crowd of unruly children ; and then her work out of doors detestable. Miss Geraldine is ambitious.

She was not meant to bury herself for ever in this pokey little town, She is clever, too, — she may IS IT AY ? 15 help me on with my object in life, as she expresses it. But there is no need to tell her about that yet, all in good time. Once we are married (and I'm determined to have no long dallying over that part of the per formance) it will be time enough to enlighten her on a few points." If a few whisperings of conscience visited Mr. Stephen King's mind as he strolled along the river-bank smoking his fragrant cigar, none of them were loud enough to cause him any uneasiness. In his own selfish fashion he loved this girl too much to hesitate at any means that brought her to consent to marry him. Besides, as he argued, when it was all said and done, what great harm was there in taking a girl away from a life of drudgery such as Geraldine's, and setting her in ease and comfort ?

He had quite enough money (even suppose that failed — the object to which he was about to devote his life) to support a wife in more outward comforts than had hitherto fallen to Geraldine's share. Deceived in his position ? Poof! he blew away a cloud of smoke ; education makes all men equal ; in intellect he was Geraldine's superior, and yet she was a clever girl, too, and would be no end of a help to him if she chose. He would be very kind to her, — he loved her. Of course, she must be amiable, and obedient, and try to help him in all his plans ; but, indeed, he meant to be very kind to her,, and, of course, she would love him devotedly in return. In the meanwhile there was very little thought of love in Geraldine's mind, as she hurried through the streets of Crosley on her way home. The thoroughfares of the small town were more than usually crowded, and in her present condition of over-strung nerves the groups of chattering loiterers that hung about the corners or strolled along the narrow pavements were an acute source of irritation.

" Hateful little hole this is ! " she thought, angrily, when for about the seventh time she was forced to dive into the muddy road to escape collision with a party of this descrip tion. " The place gets more detestable every year. How glad I should be to get out of it!" She hurried on, longing to be in her own little attic bedroom, the one place in the over crowded house that she had vehemently held against all invaders. She felt that a crisis in her life had come. This was no matter to be lightly thought of, and dismissed ; her whole GAINSBOROUGH TERRACE. 17 future hung on the answer she would give Stephen King. It needed absolute coolness and clearness of thought, and she must call all her faculties to her aid to help her to decide wisely. But she had scarcely reached this stage in her mental argument when she turned out of the High Street into a quieter row of houses that faced the high dead wall enclosing Cobb's Saw Mills. i\ long, flat uninteresting row of tenements, with a liberal allowance of area and an uninterrupted view into " breakfast parlours," was Gainsborough Terrace.

A few of the more ambitious inhabitants adorned their dwellings with muslin curtains and boxes of flowers, but for the most part the long line of windows blinked baldly back at the spectator, only decorated in occasional instances of modesty with wire or cane blinds. No. 10, the house at which Geraldine stopped, bore marks of more artistic arrange ment than any other in the street, but an exclamation of annoyance escaped the young girl as she saw from the pavement that the cream-coloured muslin curtains in the break fast parlour had been dragged to one side, disclosing an untidy vista of a tumbled tea- B table, and a general muddle of sofa-cushions, headless dolls, torn picture-books and broken toys. " Really, it's too bad ! " she cried im patiently; "the children have their own nursery, and then they are allowed to make bear-sardens of all the rooms in the house !

Jane," to the maid who opened the door, " what is the meaning of all that mess downstairs ? " " Oh, if you please, miss," said Jane, looking a trifle scared, " missis had the headache that bad she couldn't have the children bide in the nursery — so they was sent down to the parlour, miss, but I was just going to tidy up a bit 'gainst you came in, miss. And please, are you ready for your tea, 'cause cook says as she wants to let the kitchen fire out, 'cause it's her night for cleaning out the flues." " Oh, yes, yes, yes ! " exclaimed Geraldine, with an irritation she could no longer sup press. " Don't go repeating to me what cook says, I don't care to hear it. And look here, Jane, put my tea on a tray and bring it up to my own room ; I'm not going into that place till it's fit to sit in." It was no unusual thing when Geraldine THE FA MIL Y AT No. 10. ■9 was busy, or not inclined to face the family tea, for her to have something carried up to her own room, and the servants who had plenty to do in that scrambling household never dreamt of disputing any of their young mistress's orders.

So Geraldine drank her tea in comparative tranquillity, while down in the kitchen cook grumbled audibly about "keeping meals about to all hours of the night, with all them flues to clean," and in the parlour, smutty-faced, but always beaming Jane strove to repair the ravages of the children, and in her darkened bedroom Mrs. Rivers feebly murmured over the trial of a neuralgic headache and the next-room nearness of five riotous boys and girls. It was all very sordid and miserable. Geraldine, who felt herself capable of heroic heights of self-sacrifice and devotion, could not endure the daily little stings of her surroundings. With the pitiless judgment of perfect health, she was only too ready to flatter herself that much of her step-mother's illness was imaginary or exaggerated. Poor Mrs. Rivers, never of a strong or energetic nature, had long ago abandoned herself to the hopeless muddle of her surroundings, and Geraldine's attempts to keep anything like order usually resulted in nothing but a trial of temper to their originator, and a fierce skirmish on the parts of her young half brothers and sisters.

This evening as she sat at her little attic window looking over the deserted expanse of Cobb's Saw Mills, she was conscious of a slight feelingof exultation that it now rested within her own power to end this old life for ever. Of course she did not mean to accept Mr. King ; she felt she really scarcely knew him, but still it amused her to think for a little what it would be like just supposing she had accepted him. Of course they would leave stupid old Crosley ; where would they go ? Geraldine never remembered hearing him speak of where his work and home lay, but any place would be better than this dull old town, and suppose it were to be in dear delightful London ? Oh, if it only were ! Geraldine flushed all over with pleasure before she remembered that this was nothing after all but imagination, for of course she never meant to marry Mr. King.

Still, there might be a great many worse men than Stephen King. He was very RICHER THAN O WEN. 21 clever, good-looking, and his manners were charming, far more agreeable than Owen Trevor's, for instance, who thought because he had known her ever since she was a child he might lecture and scold her just as he pleased. No, indeed, Mr. Owen, it would be fun to steal a march on you now, and let you know that little Miss Cherry had a will of her own, and could act for herself. Geraldine smiled, and then grew suddenly grave. " How hateful it is," she cried, with a sudden little stamp of her foot, "that all the nice men are poor, and that all the nasty ones — no, I don't mean that either, but that all the rich ones are not so nice. But Mr. King isn't so rich, he has to work, he told me so. Only he is richer than Owen, and if I waited for years and years and years, Owen would never be rich enough to marry; besides he has never asked me to wait, so what's the good of thinking about it?"

Geraldine felt rather virtuous when she de cided in her own mind that for the present at least she would certainly have to decline Mr. King's offer, and put away all thought of Owen Trevor's ever being rich enough to support a wife. She was quite honest at the time, and for the first f&w days took almost a melancholy satisfaction in her unworldliness. It was not likely she would soon get another chance such as she was throwing away, for in a small country town, "eligible young men," are not picked up like black berries. Never mind, she had done her duty, and if necessary that must console her during a long and dreary old maidenhood. That was her first stage of feeling, but gradually as the days went on, and there was no one to appreciate her self-devotion, her ardour slightly cooled. Mr. King kept care fully out of the way ; she had never known before how much she looked forward to the little chats with him that cheered the dulness of her days.

Crosley was hot and dusty and crowded with uninteresting people, her own home more uncomfortable than ever with Tom and Jack home for the holidays. Mrs. Fairfax's school, where she went to teach every day, worse than anything, the lady principal being of a decidedly nagging and disagreeable temper, and having a special satisfaction in trying to "crush" the inde pendent spirit of her junior teacher. As it happened matters came to a crisis on DECISION. 23 the very day when Geraldine was to give her answer to Stephen King. It was a hot after noon, the girls were careless and inattentive, and Geraldine, nervous at the thought of the interview that lay before her, felt her own attention wandering again and again, and could only with the greatest difficulty bring it back to the subject in hand. Mrs. Fairfax spoke once or twice to her with considerable sharpness, and at last Geraldine, unable to control herself, answered back in a manner that the lady principal considered " most insolent and ill-becoming."

Thereupon she proceeded to administer a scathing lecture to the young teacher in the presence of the girls, and before Geraldine could stop her, poured forth a torrent of angry insinuations, which were certainly not edifying for them to hear. Then Geraldine stepped forward, her eyes blazing, her cheeks pale with passion. " How dare you say that to me ? " she said, in a voice that would tremble in spite of her indignation. " How dare you ? Do you know that you are speaking of the man — " " Well, of the man ? " sneered Mrs. Fairfax, as Geraldine paused. "Of the man — I am going to marry," con cluded Geraldine, in a firm voice. It was all over now ; all her doubt and hesitation, her hig-h resolves, her self-devotion and unworldliness, her half-shadowy re grets for the old friend of her childhood who had never spoken a word of love to her, and yet whom she dimly felt would have been more loyal to her than she was to him.

That evening, as Stephen bent his head to listen to her half-whispered words, and drew her within the shelter of his strong arms, she wondered how she could ever have hesitated. This, this, was something like living. Now she would never again have to battle alone against a cold and jealous world. With Stephen beside her, she felt she could face any difficulties, brave any hardships. For the moment she was absolutely and entirely happy. " Mine, mine ! " whispered Stephen triumphantly. " Look up, Cherry. And you do, actually, just a very little bit — love me?" " Don't be silly — and conceited," said Geraldine with a not very successful attempt at dignity. Then suddenly breaking down she sobbed with her head against his arm, TAKE MY LOVE, FOR LOVE WILL COME. 25 " Oh Stephen, I'm so tired of working and looking after myself, — do be kind to me. Indeed, I don't know what I should do without you."

Chapter II

no fault of geraldine's. TEPHEN and Geraldine were married. It was a quiet wedding, no one being present but the Rivers' family, and some of the school-girls. Geraldine had spoken once to Stephen about his relations, but the subject was evidently a painful one, and when she saw this she was content to let it drop. " My dear, I may as well tell you frankly that at present there is a slight difference between me and my people," Stephen had said with a shadow of annoyance on his face, "and they would probably only make them selves disagreeable if they knew of my inten tion. So, as it is a matter that chiefly concerns ourselves, I have chosen to keep my own confidence in the matter. You are not vexed, Geraldine ? " If Geraldine had any lingering feeling of regret at the absence of Stephen's friends, HEARTSEASE. 27 it all vanished before the sound of his voice, and the questioning glance from the eyes that, as a rule, were more prone to command than to plead.

Her answer was apparently satisfactory, for the man's face brightened again, as he drew from its case the handsome ringhe had chosen as a present for her. "See, — it is a heartsease," he said, pointing to the stones of which it was composed — " amethysts, rubies, topazes, set in the shape of a pansy. A pretty emblem ! I hope it will be a true one for you." And Geraldine's eyes sparkled with more than gratitude as she slipped the shining circlet over her thin white finger. Only one little incident happened to mar the serenity of her mind on this happy occasion. It was the day before the wedding. Geraldine was up in her room, packing her trunks for her departure ; in the sitting-room her half-sister Barbara was busily arranging some dresses for the children next day. Barbara was fourteen, — a thin slip of a girl, with a clever, ugly face, shrewd brown eyes, and a ready capable wit.

Bab was anything but a general favourite, but she was the one person in the house to whom everyone turned instinctively in any difficulty, and her actions were as kind as her tongue was sharp — which is saying a good deal. She was singing softly to herself in a high pitched rather sweet voice, and regarding her handiwork in quite a professional manner with her head on one side, when the door was suddenly thrown open, and a young man came in. "Why, hul — lo!" he cried, looking in amazement at all the tokens of disorder that littered the room. " Have you started a new trade, Bab ? How long is it since you turned dressmaker ? " "Just as long again as half," returned Bab, with easy grace. " And what in the world brings you here, Master Owen ? " An acute observer might have noticed a slight look of anxiety in the apparently careless glance with which she favoured him.

" Well, that's a hospitable question ! " said the young fellow in an aggrieved voice. " A desire to see you, of course, my dear." Bab stuck her needle into the straw hat she was trimming with buttercups, and let it rest there while she looked at him. " Then you haven't heard yet ? " she said O WEN HEARS. 29 with a curious inflection in her voice that smote upon her hearer with an instant sense of disquiet. " Heard ? No — nothing — what ? " he said, with a sudden change in the laughing grey eyes. " Nothing has happened to Cherry ? " " Oh, dear no, only she's going to get married," said Barbara, bolting out her words and plunging at her work with feverish energy. Then there was silence, dead silence, except for the sound of the thread being dragged throug-h the straw. As longas he lived Owen Trevor could never see a woman trim a hat without a curious choking; sensation coming; in his throat, and the whole scene rising again before his eyes — the dusty sunlight filtering through the screen of Virginia-creeper, — the little table littered with odds and ends of ribbons, feathers and artificial flowers — -Jack's cricket cap on one chair, — a pretty little muslin dress thrown across another, — and in the midst Barbara's head bent over her work, and her fingers stitching away — stitching, stitching — while all the room seem to reel and spin round.

" Oh, stop, do stop ! " cried Owen, fiercely. " Can't you speak to a fellow when he has come fifty miles to see you ? I beg your pardon — I only mean I never can talk to a person whose mind is all the time taken up with something else." Barbara, who had gone on with her work solely as an excuse for not looking at her visitor, put it meekly down, and was reduced to a feeble attempt to bore holes in her thimble with her needle. " We wrote to you," she said, after a pause which threatened to become awkward. " I suppose you never got the letter. It was sent to London." " I have been in Yorkshire for the last fortnight ; no letters were sent on," said Trevor. " But how sudden it seems! Who is it ? " " Mr. King," said Bab, briefly. "Mr. King! Why she has only known him a month or two — " " Three," put in Bab, parenthetically.

"How can she? Cherry — Cherry going to be married ! I can't believe it." He sat silently for a few minutes, while the long lashes still drooped over Bab's sharp eyes. Presently he roused himself with a great sigh. ADIEU FOR EVERMORE. 31 " Look here, Barbara," he said hurriedly, "I can trust you. You must never — never — -'•' He stopped. And now Barbara raised her brown eyes, and looked straight at him with a full and honest gaze. No," she said, " I will never, never." For she knew without words that Geraldine must never be told how Owen loved her. " You see, it would be no use to spoil her happiness," said Owen, eagerly — " so mind you don't even mention my name. I'll be off now. No, thanks, I can't wait — Ah, she is coming ! Bab, remember ! " He gave the girl a warning look as the door opened, and Geraldine in the flush of her youthful beauty and happiness came hastily in.

It was impossible not to see the change that passed over her face when she saw who was standing there in the little room beside her sister. The glad expression faded away, and an almost frightened look came in its stead. Barbara slipped away quietly as Trevor came forward. If his lips were paler than usual and his voice a little strained Geraldine was too pre-occupied to notice it. " I have but this moment heard the news ; 1 must congratulate Mr. King," he said, touching her hand with cold stiff fingers. " I hope this step may be for your happiness." " How formal you are, Owen," said Geraldine, a little reproachfully, but with an odd sense of relies. ' ' H ave you come to stay ? ' ' "No, I am just on my way south." " And you can't even stop till to-morrow ? " said Geraldine, shyly. " To-morrow ?

Is there anything special ? " Then, as a wave of colour swept over Geraldine's face, he said even more coldly — " No, certainly not, I'm very sorry, but it's quite impossible." Geraldine was hurt at his manner. She knew little of the strain he was undergoing, and she was a good deal piqued that such an old friend could treat so important a matter so lightly. " Why, Owen, I don't believe you care for me a bit," she said, "and we were always such good friends. If it were you now," she stopped, as her voice quivered. "Yes, — if it were me?" said Trevor gently. " What would you do, Cherry ? " "/should show a good deal more interest in you than you do in me," she ended with almost a sob. Owen stood for a moment immovable. Then he said in a very low self-restrainedvoice, NO FA ULT OF GERALDLNE S. 33 " You are making a great mistake, Cherry.

I care for you infinitely more than you have ever cared for me. But what's the good of talking ? You have chosen your way, and I must go mine, and perhaps they will never meet again." He came a step nearer. " Good-bye, once more. You are the best judge whether you have treated me quite fairly in this matter — but I don't mean to reproach you. Only Cherry, Cherry, why couldn't you have trusted me ? If you had only told me — but never even to let me know ! " " Last week — Barbara wrote" — stammered Geraldine, blushing. " I have been so busy." Her words died away under the searching glance of those wistful eyes. Owen turned away with sudden abruptness. "Good-bye," he said, and once again held her hand for a moment in his firm clasp. Barbara was waiting; at the hall door to let him out. " He's a horror, and I hate him," she whispered in a sudden burst of girlish confidence as she pulled back the latch.

" And I can't think what Geraldine is about. She never used to care for him a pin." " Feelings change," said Owen, briefly and bitterly. " It is good, they say, to begin c with a little dislike. I suppose next we shall have you running off with Mr. Cobb's foreman." As Barbara's hatred to this individual was a standing joke in the family, she acknow ledged the young man's attempt at pleasantry with a scornful little sniff. " Good-bye, Barbara ; you are a good little soul," said Trevor, with a dim sense that there was a depth of loyalty in this girl's nature that the brilliant Geraldine could never attain to. " Little indeed ! Little yourself," retorted Bab. She made no remark on the shortness of Owen's visit to the house which he regarded as a second home, but bade him good-bye with a carefully-assumed indifference which deceived neither of them, but for which Owen was silently grateful.