All in a moment she had repented it, and wished to keep the secret still. So she was glad of the opportune interruption. "Run to the door, dear. Do not keep him waiting," she urged, and Geraldine flew blithely to open the door for her lover, as she had done a dozen times before that day, meeting each time, as she did now--blank disappointment. A man stood before her, to be sure, but he was an utter stranger--good-looking and well-dressed, with a bearded face and a hat pulled low over his eyebrows. "Are you Miss Harding?" he asked, in a low, muffled voice. "Yes." He handed a note to her; and forgetting, in her wonder, to ask him in, she took it, and leaving him at the open door, crossed over to the window to read it by the dim and failing light of the waning day. It ran simply: "My darling, there have been so many fires to-day I've been on a dead run, and am almost tired out; but I didn't forget my promise to take you for a sleigh-ride, and the thought of you has been singing in my fond heart all day. It's late, I know--past five now, and I can't get off duty at the engine-house until six o'clock; but I thought I would take time by the forelock and be ready to take you for a little spin, if you don't mind the hour. So my friend, Jem Rhodes volunteered to go to the livery stable and get a sleigh for me, and bring you down to the engine-house by six o'clock, so I could take the reins the minute I'm free. "Will you come with my good friend, Rhodes, dear? A clever fellow to do us this good turn, is he not? "Hastily and fondly, H. H." In the dim light the writing looked the same as that she had received that morning from her lover. Not a doubt crossed her mind. She hastily explained the case to her friend. Cissy could see no objection to the plan, and she was rather relieved that Geraldine was going, so that she could not tease her for the love-story she was now reluctant to tell. "It seems all right," she said, encouragingly. Geraldine flew to get on her warmest wraps, and Cissy invited Mr. Rhodes to come in to the fire. "I will light the gas," she said, hospitably, but he shrank back into the shadowy hall. "No, thank you, I must go down and look after the horses. Please tell the young lady to hurry," he said, in that strange, muffled voice, retreating down the stair-way as he spoke. Geraldine was ready in a minute, and Cissy went down with her to the sleigh, an elegant turn-out, with two horses. "Don't stay too late, dear, or you may take cold," cautioned Cissy, tenderly; and then they kissed each other good-by, little dreaming how long it would be, poor dears, before they met and kissed again. CHAPTER XXIV. IN THE POWER OF A FIEND. "The bard has sung: God never formed a soul Without its own peculiar mate, to meet Its wandering half, when ripe to crown the whole Bright plan of bliss, most heavenly, most complete.