The rejected bride, "Only a girl's heart."

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^he Rejected Bride j ‘Only a Girl’s Heart” — Second Series.

Chapter I. The Rejected Bride

Married !

It is not so ; thou hast misspoke, misheard ;

It cannot be ; thou dost but say ’t is so ;

I trust I may not trust thee ; for thy word Is but the vain breath of a common man ;

I have his own oath to the contrary. — Shakespeare.

N that fatal wedding-morning, Geraldine Fitzgerald paced np and down the floor of her chamher at Greenwood, with the fierce restlessness of a caged tigress. *

On the bed lay spread ont the handsome suit of silver-gray Irish poplin, trimmed with velvet of the same hue, in which she was to be married, and in which she was to commence her wedding tour.

Around the room stood several large trunks contain-

THE REJECTED BRIDE.

ing her costly wardrobe, all locked and strapped for transportation.

Standing and waiting respectfully within the shade of the window curtains was Desirde, the French dressing-maid of the young lady.

Presently, the heiress paused in her impatient walk, and demanded :

“ What is the hour ?”

“The clock has just struck ten, mademoiselle^' answered the maid.

“ It is time my messenger had returned from the Summit. Go down-stairs and inquire if he has arrived.”

“Yes, mademoiselle."

When the girl had left the room, Geraldine resumed her restless pace up and down the floor until she was interrupted by the maid’s return.

“ Well ?” she exclaimed, pausing in her walk.

“ Goliah has not yet arrived, mademoiselle" respectfully answered the girl.

“ Who is down-stairs, do you know ?”

“ mademoiselle., Monsieur le Cur^ is arrived.”

“ The priest ?”

“ Oui, mademoiselle !"

“ Father Dubarry here already, and — my messenger not returned ! Oh ! What if he should not And Colonel Fitzgerald ! Or should And him obdurate to my appeal ?” muttered Geraldine to herself. “ But no, no ! Gerald never was so, never could be so ! He will gladly receive my message, eagerly hasten tb be reconciled with me ! — Desirde !”

“ Mademoiselle f"

“ Who is down-stairs besides Father Dubarry ?”

“ Madame Matzemo is there.”

“ Miss Maxima Rowley ?”

THE REJECTED BRIDE.

“ Horatia ! Any one else ?”

N on ^ mademoiselle y

“ The people from the rectory have not come ?”

''Non, mademoiselle. Will not mademoiselle now make her toilet ? It is past ten,” suggested the maid.

“ No, there is time enough yet ; the hour for the ceremony is fixed for one o’clock. If I must wait for the bridegroom, they shall wait for the bride,” she muttered to herself, as she resumed her restless walk up and down . the floor — but pacing now with slow and dragging steps.

An hour passed slowly on. The clock hands pointed at half-past eleven.

" Desiree !”

“ Mademoiselle ?”

" Go down once more, and inquire if Goliah has returned from the Summit.”

The girl courtesied and left the room.

Geraldine, wearied with her restless walk, threw herself, exhausted, into an arm-chair, to await the result. A few moments passed, and Desiree re-entered the room.

“ Has the man returned ?” eagerly demanded Miss Fitzgerald.

"Non, mademoiselle I'

Geraldine sank back in her chair and covered her face with her hands, for she felt herself paling and fainting under this heart-sickening suspense.

In a few minutes, however, she rallied her energies, and forced herself to inquire :

“ Is there any new arrival whatever t Any one else down-stairs, except the priest and the two lady visitors ?”

“ Non, chere mademoiselle, but be tranquil ; the expected guests may yet render themselves in good time,” said the maid, soothingly.

" There are no more guests expected, except the three

THE REJECTED BRIDE.

from the rectory. This ceremony, as you must be aware, Desiree, is out of respect to the memory of the late Mr. Fitzgerald, for whom we are still in our first mourning, to be celebrated only in the presence of our nearest family connections. There will really be not more than five or six witnesses to the marriage.”

** Oui^ mademoiselle y

Another hour crept slowly away.

The untiring hands of the clock pointed to half-past twelve.

Geraldine started up wildly from her chair, exclaiming :

“ Desir6e, go directly down-stairs, and see if that man has returned. He ought to have got back hours ago ! And here ! If he has returned, bring him up to me immediately ! If he has not^ leave word with the servants down-stairs to send him up as soon as he arrives.”

The French girl flew out of the room to carry her message.

Oeraldine started up from her seat and went to one window after another, looking out upon every approach to the house.

Then she recommenced her restless, impatient traversing of the room.

“ Oh, Heaven ! Oh, Heaven !” she cried suddenly, and wildly throwing her hands together. “If, after all, Gerald should refuse to receive my letter — ^but no, no, he could not be so unforgiving ! He knows me too well. He knows that I love him, in spite of all ! He knows that it is from the very excess of my love for him that I cannot endure to see him interested in any other woman ; that it maddens me to see him absorbed in any other woman’s conversation even for an hour. Gerald knows this, and he will forgive my wicked words, for the great love I bear him ! And he knows

THE REjECTEt) BRIDE.

li that I never try his love in the manner that he tries mine ! / never — never sit by the hour, talking poetry,

music or metaphysics with any other man ! Never ! I never even care to look at any other man than Gerald. Why should he wish to talk by the hour with any other woman, when he sees that it drives me mad for him to do so, and all from my great love for him ? Oh, no, no, no ! Gerald will not be obdurate ! He will forgive me — he will be glad to forgive me. Oh, I know that even now he must be hurrying to meet me ! And yet, if it should not be so — oh, I cannot bear the thought ! If he should send back my letter unrea4 ! But I would not live under such an affliction — not while any means remains untried for a reconciliation. If he should send back my letter unread, I will order my carriage and drive to the Summit Manor House and go straight into his presence. He may resist my unread letter, by forbearing to read it, but — ^he cannot resist me. And why should I not go to him, if he will not come to me ? He is my betrothed husband since our childhood. He is my very own, and I am his. I drove him away from me in my jealous fury. It is for me to bring him back, at any price, to my woman’s pride. Come, then, I will not despair, even though he should send my letter back unread. I will go to him in person. My own ! My own ! My own ! I must not, cannot, will not let you go !” she muttered, in impassioned earnestness, as she once more threw herself into the arm-chair.

The door opened, and Desirde re-entered the room.

“ The messenger ! Has he returned ?” Geraldine breathlessly demanded.

“Ah, non mademoiselle; he is a wretch, this messenger,” replied the French maid, with a sigh.

Geraldine fell back, half fainting, in her chair.

There came a rap at the door.

THE REJECTED BRIDE.

“ That is he !” she eagerly exclaimed,

Desirde opened the door.

Miss Sue Greenleaf entered the room.

“ Oh, Miss Sue !” impulsively exclaimed Geraldine, in a tone of disappointment and injury,

“ My dear, not dressed yet ? It is nearly one o’clock ! Father Dubarry has been here ever since ten. Do hurry and get ready !” urged Miss Greenleaf.

“ Are you really waiting for me ?” inquired Geraldine, but only by way of saying something to cover her confusion.

“ Why, we are not exactly waiting for you. The party from the rectory have not come yet, nor have the most important persons of all — Colonel Fitzgerald and his groomsman — arrived ; but you should be ready to come down, my dear, the moment they do. Y ou are to leave here by three o’clock, if you wish to catch the fiveo’clock coach at Wildeville. Come, let me help you to dress.”

“ No, thanks, dear Miss Greenleaf. Pray go and entertain good Father Dubarry. Desiree can dress me in ten minutes,” answered Geraldine.

“ Very well, my dear ; just as you please ; pray do not be long,” urged Miss Greenleaf, as with her fair face held up, and her stately form erect, she passed out of the room.

“Thank Heaven, she knows nothing, guesses nothing of this last quarrel between Fitzgerald and myself. I wonder if Miss Doy or any one else suspects it ? I hope not !” sighed Geraldine.

'■^Mademoiselle^ shall I now have the honor to dress you ?” inquired the French maid.

“No — ^but — yes!” answered Geraldine. “I will be ready to go down, in case he should come, as of course he will come, in spite of appearances ; or, if by possi-

THE REJECTED BRIDE.

bility he should not come, but should send my letter back, unread, the same dress will do for me to wear in driving over to the Summit Manor to see him ; for I am resolved to see him, to be reconciled to him at any cost to my pride,” she mentally added.

“ Will mademoiselle please to occupy her dressingchair ?” inquired Desiree, as she placed a low seat in front of the toilet-table.

Geraldine silently arose and took the place.

“ How will mademoiselle please to have her beautiful black hair dressed this morning ?” inquired the maid.

In close bands and plaits, to accommodate my travelling-hat,” replied Geraldine, forcing herself by an effort to take an interest in these details.

The skillful fingers of the French maid soon arranged the magnificent black tresses of the beauty in those simple braids so becoming to her classic head and face. And next she clothed her in the simple but elegant silver-gray travelling-dress, and she was about to add the delicately embroidered linen cuffs and collar to the suit, when they were interrupted by another rap at the door.

“ That is my messenger at last. Let him come in at • once !”cried Geraldine, as her face paled and flushed in rapid succession.

Desiree went and opened the door.

Hetty, Miss Greenleaf’s waiting-maid, stood without.

“ What is this you want ?” tartly inquired Desiree.

“ Please, Miss Daisy Ray, Uncle Goliah have come back, and wants to see Miss Fitzgerald, if she has done dressing and will let him come in,” said the little waiting-maid.

“ Did I not send down orders that he should come up to me immediately upon his arrival ? Bring him up here directly !” exclaimed Geraldine. Then, suddenly plac-

THE REJECTED BRIDE.

ing her hand over her heart, she gasped in a low voice :

“ Stop — stop ! Is he — did he return alone

“ Oh, yes, miss, sure ; and he have fotch a big letter for you,” replied the little girl.

“ A letter ! Tell him to bring it up to me immediately !” exclaimed Geraldine.

The little girl withdrew, and the French maid closed the door.

“ Desirde ! Quick ! Mix a little lavender and ammonia with water and bring it to me ! Quick !” cried Geraldine, growing very pale, and sinking back in her chair ; for the intense strain upon her nervous system in this crisis of suspense was more than she could bear.

The nimble fingers of the French girl soon prepared the mixture, and brought it to her mistress. Geraldine drank it in haste, and had but just returned the glass, empty, to the maid, when another knock at the door announced the arrival of the messenger.

Desirde opened it, and Goliah walked into the room, bringing in his hand a large, white envelope.

“ It is not my letter, thank Heaven ! Mine was a rose-colored one ! No, he has not returned my letter unread ! Oh, blessings on his great heart ! Let me see what he has written to me !” she murmured to herself, as she received the letter from the hand of the messenger.

You may go, now, Goliah. Desirde, my good girl, leave me for a few moments. I will ring when I require you,” she said to her attendant.

The man and woman immediately withdrew, leaving the young lady alone.

I do not wish them to watch me while I read this dear letter. Ah, what a thick package it is ! What a long letter he must have written ! Blessings on his noble

;rHE REJECTED BRIDE, soul ! He is too great to be unforgiving ! What a long letter ! This is what kept my messenger waiting so many hours ! But I wonder why Gerald did not come at once, instead of writing ? Perhaps, after all, he has written this letter only to lecture me ! Never mind ! He has not sent mine back, unread ! That is a good sign ! And, now, even if he has put himself upon his dignity, and keeps me to my word — my cruel word of banishment — I will not be bound by that ! I will go to him ! I, who banished him, will go to bring him back !”

These thoughts passed swiftly through her mind, even during the few seconds it took her to break the seal of the envelope and withdraw the letter, or rather the letters — for her own rose-colored missive fell over upon her lap. She changed color again and trembled, as she asked herself :

“ Why does he send back my letter, after reading it ?”

Breathlessly she unfolded his note to learn the reason. The second line of that stern missive told her !

I cannot comply with your request that I should come to you ; nor, wefe it in my power, do I think it were well or wise for me to do so.”

Her eyes were blurred as she tried to read what followed, until she came to these fatal words :

I have within this hour raised an impassable barrier between vou and myself. I have united myself in marriage to Gertrude Haddon, to whom, Heaven helping me, I mean to make a faithful husband.”

Geraldine read no further ; but she passed her hand over and over her dazed eyes, as if to clear their vision, and then read and reread what seemed to her a sentence of death.

Meanwhile she gradually grew deadly, ghastly pale ; every shade of living color ebbed away from brow and cheeks and lips, leaving her face like a mask of death.

THE REJECTED BRIDE.

“Oh, cruel, cruel, cruel, cruel!” she muttered low.

“ Cruel as death and the grave — and cruel to himself as to me !”

Yet not all at once could she feel the full force of the blow that had desolated her life. Not all at once could her ardent love turn to the cold and bitter and deadly hatred it was destined to become.

“ I knew — I knew,” she continued. “ I knew that if he suffered the devil to take possession of him that devil would drive him to such extremities as I could never reach. He has married in haste and in wrath to be revenged upon me. But, oh, when he shall come to his right senses, how he will turn upon himself 1 How he will hate and scorn himself for what he has done I How he will loathe and abhor the girl who took advantage of his transient madness to accept his reckless offer and become his wife, binding himself in detested bonds for the whole of his life ! I would not for a kingdom be in Gertrude Haddon’s place when Gerald Fitzgerald comes to his senses. For it is I whom he loves, in spite of all ! / from whom he has divided himself forever by his marriage with an unloved bride ! Gerald married to another ! My Gerald the husband of another woman 1 Oh, no, no, no ! It cannot, cannot be ! This surely is some nightmare dream. Let me awake myself !” she cried, starting up, and pinching her own arms sharply. “ Oh, Heaven, it is no dream ! Gerald is married ; my Gerald married, and not to me ! He had no right — ^he had no right — he had no right to inflict this woe on me and on himself. Stop ! It is not so — it cannot be so. How could it, when he loves me ? I must have read his letter wrong. Let me look at it again !” she cried wildly, incoherently, as she snatched up the letter, which had fallen from her hands to the ground and, with fixed and staring eyes, tried to read and understand it. But

THE REJECTED BRIDE.

her sight was blurred, her mind was confused ; she could not see the letters ; nor, if she could have seen them, could she have comprehended their purport.

She felt her reason reeling on its throne.

“ I shall go mad or die !” she gasped, as she seized both letters, with their envelopes, and crushed them up in her hands ; “ I shall go mad or die ; but I must not leave these papers here, to be found and read and remembered and quoted to my shame,” she muttered.

And she took them to the empty fire-place, lighted a match, set them on fire, threw them down in the hearth and watched them until they were burned to ashes.

“There!” she said, with dark triumph. “ I may die or go mad, but no human being shall ever know that, after I had driven Gerald Fitzgerald away, I humbled myself to him, only to be rejected and cast off I Yes, I may die or I may go mad ; but, so surely as I shall live and retain my senses, so surely shall I live and labor for one fell purpose — to humble Gerald Fitzgerald to the dust, as he has humbled me 1 Me !" she cried, with a flash of her black eyes and a fierce stamp of her foot.

She stood gazing on the ground for a few moments, and then with a grim nod, she muttered :

“ It is whispered — though these whisperings were quickly repressed — that on the night when old Mr. Fitzgerald so suddenly died, mad Magdala had told him some terrible secret, which struck him dead as by a thunderbolt ! I will discover this secret at any cost 1 I will give it to the winds, at any risk I I will pull down Gerald Fitzgerald to disgrace and ruin, even though I should fall with him !”

She suddenly threw her hands to her head, paled, flushed, reeled, recovered herself, and said :

“ But, now — while I can — I must give — some explanation to Miss Greenleaf.”

THE REJECTED BRIDE.

She staggered back to her chair and dropped into it, stretched her hand to the bell-rope and gave it a sudden pull.

Desiree answered the summons by entering the room.

Ma chere mademoiselle^ are you ill ?” cried the girl in terror, as she beheld the ghastly pallor of her mistress’s face.

“Go — and tell — Miss Greenleaf — that I wish to see her — immediately,” panted Geraldine, with fast-failing breath.

Desiree flew out of the room and down the stairs in search of Miss Sue Greenleaf, whom she found in the dining-room, putting a few elegant finishing touches to the arrangement of the small wedding breakfast-table.

Desiree, in an excited manner, began to say :

“ Oui^ madame t Mademoiselle Feezegerle is vera ill !’ *

But Miss Greenleaf cut her short by asking :

“ Did your young lady send you for me ?”

“ Oui^ madame ! Certainementl'

“ Let us go to her then,” said Miss Greenleaf, leaving the dining-room and hastening to the chamber occupied by Geraldine.

She found Miss Fitzgerald seated in her chair, looking more like a corpse than like a living woman.

“ Geraldine, Geraldine, my dear girl, what is the matter with you ?” anxiously inquired Miss Greenleaf, hastening up to the chair and taking the cold hand of the sufferer.

Miss Sue,” began Geraldine, in a voice she fruitlessly endeavored to render calm and collected — “I might just as well tell you the truth — and indeed it now seems — necessary to do so.”

She paused, pressed her hand upon her chest and struggled for breath.

Mademoiselle Desirde took a cut-glass vinaigrette

THE REJECTED BRIDE.

from the dressing-table and placed it in her hands. Geraldine mechanically inhaled it, then let the vial fall, unheeded, to her lap, and strove to continue.

“ I have quarreled — with Gerald,” she panted. “ Last night, I took just offense at his excessive attentions to Horatio Rowley, and to his neglect of myself. And — I broke with him — bade him to leave me — forever — bade him never — dare^ — to come into my presence again — ”

Here her head sank upon her breast, and she paused so long that Miss Sue took her hand and said, with gentle sympathy :

“ I am very sorry, Geraldine ; but do not take it to heart, my dear. All will come right again. It is a little awkward to have had a misunderstanding with Gerald just at this time ; but that is all. And fortunately there are no strange guests in the house. This has happened before and the quarrel has always been made up, as it will be again. Only let this be a warning to you, my dear, never more to indulge in such tempers which — ” Peace, peace, peace!” cried Geraldine, wildly snatching her hand from the lady’s clasp. “ Oh, peace ! I do not know what you are saying ! He has taken me at my word ! He has gone away, never to return. There will be no wedding to-day. There never will be any wedding — any wedding. Oh 1 I mean — there has been a wedding — that is to say ! Oh, what am I talking about ?”

Here the unhappy girl put her hand to her head and gazed with a bewildered and piteous expression into the kind and sympathizing face of Miss Sue.

“ Geraldine, my dear child, you are not well. Let me help you to bed,” said Miss Sue, as she gently took the sufferer’s hand to lift her up.

But Geraldine threw off the kind hand, exclaiming :

THE REJECTED BRIDE.

“ No, no, no ! Not until I have burned the letters ! Not until I have burned the letters ! I may lose my life or reason, but I will not lose my dignity ! No human being shall ever know — shall ever, ever — Oh ! I tell you I must burn the letters !” she cried, starting up with crimson face and flaming eyes, and rushing across the room ; but before she had run half a dozen steps, she threw up her arms and fell heavily, face downward, to the floor.

Miss Greenleaf and Desiree hastened to raise her up.

CHAPTER II. Gertrude’s honeymoon

For myself alone

I would not be ambitious in my wish,

To wish myself much better; yet for you.

And only to stand high in your account,

I would in virtues, beauties, riches, friends.

Exceed account; but the full sum of me Is sum of nothing; which to term, in short.

Is an unlesson’d girl, unschool’d, unpractic’d ;

Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn ; happier than this,

She is not bred so dull but she can learn.

Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed.

As from her lord, her governor, her king.

— Shakespeare.

The carriage containing the newly-married pair rolled slowly down the steep mountain road leading from the Old Red Sandstone Church to the River Turnpike.

For the first few minutes the occupants sat in perfect silence.

Gerald Fitzgerald was vainly trying to convince himself that he had acted well and wisely in breaking with

Gertrude's honeymoon.

the brilliant leopardess to whom he had been so long betrothed, but whose caresses were almost as fatal as her claws, and with whom he could never have hoped to live in peace or honor ; that he had done better and more wisely still by promptly raising an impassable barrier between himself and Geraldine, in securing as his wife the lovely child- woman beside him.

But, ah, in spite of all his reasoning, his wounded heart still ached on and on ; for he still passionately loved the beautiful fury, who was the bane of his life ; and, now, since the receipt of her letter and the sending of his own, a strong reaction had set in, and he bitterly regretted the rash and reckless marriage into which he had rushed, not in love and not in prudence, but in wrath and in desperation — the fatal marriage to be forever repented, since it would forever separate him from her, whom, for good or for evil, he must forever worship !

But though now his soul was filled with despair, he preserved an outwardly calm and cheerful aspect, for he possessed great powers of self-control. He resolved that, from no act, word or look of his, should the gentle girl beside him, who had so unconditionally given her whole life to him,*ever know, or even suspect, how much worse than vain he felt her sacrifice to be. He could not bring himself to talk to her just yet, but he smiled on her from time to time, with much tenderness.

And Gertrude ?

At this moment she was happy. The simple maiden better understood her act than the wise man understood either hers or his own.

She loved without self-love. She loved her husband with all her heart, soul and spirit, purely and simply, without one thought of how much love or good or happiness she was to get in exchange for the gift of her whole self.

THE REJECTED BRIDE.

He had asked her to be his wife, and she had consented. Yes, more! He had her to be his wife,

and she had obeyed him. She was his wife ; she belonged to him now and forever more. She was sitting by his side ; that was enough ! Oh, yes, quite enough happiness for the present ; and, as for the future, she took no thought of it — the future was the Lord’s alone.

Her face was always lovely in its serene meekness ; but now it seemed transfigured to a calm, divine beauty, that touched even the embittered spirit beside her.

He smiled on her, not with love, certainly, still less with passion, but with an infinite tenderness, as he took her little hand in his and gently inquired :

Gertrude, are you sure that you are happy with me ?”

“Yes, sir ; very sure, if only I may help to m'ake jyou happy ; and, oh, indeed, / think it is in me to do so** she murmured, earnestly, as she pressed both hands to her true hear, and then blushed softly at her own vehemence.

“You do not fear to trust your future with me ?” he inquired, almost compassionately, as he looked down in her loving and trusting face. “You are sure you do not fear to trust yourself with me ?”

“ Oh; no, no, no, sir ; indeed, I do not !” she answered, fervently, shaking her head and raising her eyes to his with a timid yet beaming smile.

“ Child, dear child, you look as though you had taken a spring into the light, instead of ‘ a leap in the dark,’ ’ he exclaimed, in wondering pity.

“ Oh, sir, it is, it is for me a passing into the light,” she murmured, and then again blushed and cast down her eyes in a sudden shame at her own earnest truthfulness.

“Gertrude,” he inquired, very gently, “will you promise me one thing ?”

Gertrude's honeymoon.

‘‘Yes, sir. I will promise you anything,” she answered, promptly.

“ Well, then, promise me this : that from this time forward, whatever wish may arise in your mind, however extravagant it may seem to you, you will, without hesitation, at once express it to me, so that I may gratify it. Will you do so, Gertrude ?”

“ Oh, Colonel Fitzgerald !”

“ Will you do so, Gertrude ?”

“Yes, sir, certainly, since you desire me.”

“ That is right. Listen, now. If ever you wish to go to any part of the world, no matter how far off, you will tell me, so that I may take you there.”