The ashes still smoldered, and needed but a breath to blow them into flame again. Geraldine loved Cissy so dearly that she longed to help the girl to happiness again, and she determined to leave nothing undone to reconcile her to her lover. When they were seated again, she said, brightly: "You must promise to call on me to-morrow, for I have dozens of questions to ask you, and much to tell you, and I know you will not have time to listen to it now." "I will come with the greatest pleasure," he replied, his handsome face glowing with delight, for he guessed that at her home he should meet Cissy again. Geraldine understood his thought, and said, quickly: "Miss Carroll is staying with me for an indefinite period, and I mean to give her a good time in Chicago. Perhaps you remember that we roomed together in New York when we were both working-girls?" He smiled affirmatively, and she continued: "Perhaps you have not heard that I have found my lost mother since I left New York?" "No; is it true? Let me congratulate you," he cried, warmly, and then Geraldine ran over her adventures briefly, for she knew that he must soon leave her to return to his duties. "But I shall come back at the end of the second act," he said, as he hurried away. He was with them every minute he could spare, and Cissy was very angry with herself, for the traitorous throbbing of her heart told her so plainly how dear he was to her yet, in spite of the years in which she had been teaching her heart to forget him. He was amazed when he heard the story of Clifford Standish's wickedness. "I knew the man had a bad heart--his desertion of his wife proved that--but I did not dream he would go to such lengths as you tell me. What must have been your fate had you not met your mother so opportunely?" he exclaimed to Geraldine. "What, indeed!" she shuddered, and then a low cry from Cissy made her turn her head. "Look! there is the wretch now!" cried Cissy, excitedly. They followed her glance, and saw the face of Clifford Standish peering at them from behind a pillar in the orchestra circle. When their indignant eyes turned on him, he realized that he was being observed, and hastily dodged from sight. They saw him no more that evening, but when they left the theatre he was near enough to have touched Geraldine with his hand. He had come to the theatre from his interview with Miss Erroll, and had triumphed over her bitterest prejudices by representing that his wife was dead, and that he really meant to marry Geraldine once he got her into his power. "I will teach her to love me after marriage," he boasted; and the poor governess, who had once loved him madly, and was still somewhat under the glamour of that old passion, did not doubt his power to win Geraldine's heart. She knew how fascinating he could be when he chose. For one moment, indeed, a jealous pang tore her heart, and she said, pleadingly: