She fastened the ribbons of Geraldine's cape, and, taking her hand, hurried her through the corridor to the stage door. And there--oh, joy of joys! stood Harry Hawthorne, waiting, with an eager, expectant look. How Geraldine's heart bounded at the sight of that handsome face! She could scarcely restrain herself from springing into his arms. But, instead, she demurely held out her little hand, and he clasped it closely, saying as he led her to the cab: "I am so glad to find you again, and we must have a long talk to-night." CHAPTER XIX. MUTUAL LOVE. "Oh, happy love! where love like this is found! Oh, heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare: If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving modest pair In other's arms breathe out love's tender tale Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale." It was a long distance from the theatre to Cissy's home, but the distance was short to Geraldine and her lover, as they sat side by side in the cab, almost wishing that the ride would never come to an end, it was so heavenly sweet to be together again. Both of them were in secret ecstasies at the catastrophe to Clifford Standish that had seemed to remove him from their path forever. The future seemed to stretch before them roseate, shining, love-crowned, blissful. Cissy did her best to explain away all the shadows that had come between them all. "Geraldine, I wrote you five letters. Why didn't you answer them, you cruel girl?" "Five letters? Oh, Cissy, I never received one of them; and it almost broke my heart that you would not answer all the long ones I wrote to you." "You wrote to me? How strange that I did not get a line from you, dear. And I was so grieved, so uneasy over you. I thought you were proud and stubborn. But, tell me--did you post them yourself?" "No; I always gave them to Mr. Standish to send out with the company's mail." "Ah! that accounts for all. The wretch intercepted our letters to each other, just as he did Mr. Hawthorne's letters to you." "I do not understand," said Geraldine; so they told her the story of the actor's treachery. Everything lay bare before her now, and she comprehended that all she had suffered since her parting with Harry Hawthorne had been brought about by a deep-laid plot, involving both her happiness and honor; for what if she had married Standish to-night--he, who already had a wife, whom he had deserted! Her honor would have been trampled in the dust; her life wrecked, to gratify the base passion of this monster, whom she had mistakenly believed the embodiment of truth and goodness. Trembling with horror at all that she had so narrowly escaped, Geraldine bowed her head in her hands and sobbed aloud.