"I had a dream of Love. It seemed that on a sudden, in my heart, A live and passionate thing leaped into being, And conquered me. 'Twas fierce and terrible, And yet more lovely than the dawn, and soft, With a deep power. It roused a longing To do I know not what--to give--ah, yes! More than myself! And--failing that--to _die_!" "How lovely she is, this brown-eyed little beauty! My heart is really touched at last, and I would give the world to call her mine!" thought Clifford Standish, as he led Geraldine on the crowded boat and watched her sweet face glow with pleasure at the animated scene. He said to her, in apparent jest, but secret earnest: "There are some members of the crack company of the New York Fire Department on board this morning, going to Newburgh, to take part in the parade and games to-day. They are fine-looking fellows, in their bright, new uniforms, but I hope you won't lose your heart to any of them. I think fate has destined you for an actor's bride." His ardent, meaning glance made the blood flow in a torrent to her cheeks, but she was saved the necessity of replying, for at that moment she saw a woman's handkerchief waved to him from the shore, and he exclaimed, in an embarrassed tone: "I see a friend beckoning me. Will you excuse me for a moment?" He ran hastily down the gang-plank, leaving Geraldine alone on the crowded deck among the good-natured throng of people in the nipping air of the early morning, for the sunshine had not yet pierced the fog that lightly overhung the beautiful Hudson. But Geraldine did not mind the frosty air, for her dark-blue suit was both warm and becoming, and the merry crowd and the martial music played by the band inspired her to cheerful thoughts. She passed the minutes so pleasantly in watching the animated faces about her that she did not realize how long Mr. Standish was absent, until suddenly the whistle blew, the gang-plank was drawn up, and the steamer moved away from shore, thrilling the girl with swift alarm over her escort's absence. She looked about her with a keen, searching gaze, then back to the shore. A crowd of people were leaving the wharf, but among none of them could she distinguish the stately form of Mr. Standish. "What had become of her escort?" she asked herself, in terror, wondering if he had willfully deserted her like this. A choking sob rose up in her pretty throat, and her eyes filled with frightened tears. She thought, miserably: "Oh, I wish I hadn't come! I wish I had listened to Cissy's warnings! Why did Mr. Standish treat me like this? He is a mean wretch, and I'll never, never speak to him again!" Poor little Geraldine, so lovely and so impulsive, if she had kept to that resolution, this story would never have been written. Her life would have flowed on too quietly and happily to have tempted a novelist's pen. But "fate is above us all."