The long winter night was over, and with the morning's sunshine Geraldine's heart began to beat with eager expectancy. A few hours more and sweet Cissy would be here! Cissy, her old friend, who would sympathize with her in all her trials, and perhaps help her to a way out of them. After breakfast she hastened to her room, leaving Mrs. Fitzgerald intent on the morning papers. She did not wish to be present should her mother chance to peruse the personal column. "Conscience makes cowards of us all," she quoted, nervously to herself, fancying her proud parent's indignation when she should read, staring her in the face: TO HARRY HAWTHORNE--I am safe and well, and wondering what has become of you. Do you wish to see me? If so, answer this personal to-morrow, giving your address, and I will write to you, with instructions how to find me. Anxiously yours, G. H. Oh, how happy it would have made her lover's heart if he had chanced on that message in the papers he read that morning. But, by one of the terrible blunders of fate, he had read, as always, the telegraphic news first, and then thrown the papers from him, in that wild excitement that had determined him to return to New York at once. Soon the broad, illimitable ocean would roll between their yearning hearts. Suddenly she heard her mother's step at the door, and sprang up in nervous alarm. "She has discovered it already, and is coming to reproach me," thought the hapless girl, bracing herself to meet the storm. Mrs. Fitzgerald came in excitedly, clutching the newspaper in her hand. "Mamma!" cried Geraldine, tremulously, entreatingly, as if to pray for mercy in advance. "Geraldine, I have found a startling paragraph in this paper," cried the lady, without noticing her daughter's agitation. "Yes, mamma," Geraldine answered, forlornly, pushing forward a seat. Mrs. Fitzgerald sat down, the paper rustling nervously in her hand. She cleared her throat and began. "You remember the story I told you about my cousin, Lady Putnam, and her son?" "Yes, mamma," Geraldine replied, again, meekly, and the lady continued: "I have not heard from my cousin for several years, and I have just read in the telegraphic news from abroad that her husband, Lord Randolph Putnam, is dead." "I am very sorry," Geraldine answered, gravely.