"Who are you, child, with that voice and face from the haunting past? What is your name?" "I am Geraldine Harding!" "Geraldine Harding! Oh, Heaven!" springing to her feet in strange excitement, her blue eyes glittering through their tears. Geraldine did not know what to make of her strange excitement, so she waited, mutely, while the lady went on, breathlessly: "Where did you live?--oh, I mean, tell me all about yourself! Oh, I am in such trouble that I cannot express myself clearly! I mean no impertinence, but I am terribly interested in you and in your past." "There is not much in my past that could interest you, dear madame--only the simple story of a poor country girl who came to New York, with another girl, to earn her own living," Geraldine said, modestly. "So young, so lovely! Yet thrown on the world to earn her bread!" murmured the lady, tearfully. She caught the girl's hand, holding it tightly as she continued: "Your parents, dear? Why did they let you leave them?" "I was an orphan, madame." "An orphan! Where was your home?" "I lived in the country near New York, with a farmer, to whom my father took me when I was a delicate child. The farmer's name was Newell, and his wife, Malinda, had formerly been a servant to my mother. She gave me tender, motherly care, and raised me from a frail child to a robust girl. My father sent money for a while, then he died, and left me dependent on those people. They were poor and had a hard struggle to get along with their large brood of children, so I--I--wearied of the life, and ran away to seek my fortune in the great city." "And your mother, Geraldine?" "My father said that she was dead," she replied, simply. "It was false! He, your cruel father, took you from me! I am your own mother, darling!" cried the lady, extending imploring arms. CHAPTER XXXI. FROM WANT TO WEALTH. "At sea--we're all at sea upon life's ocean, And none can boast a never-failing chart; Sail as we may, we'll meet with dread commotion, And hidden shoals to terrify the heart. We're all at sea; some favored ones, enchanted, Float peacefully upon the placid tide, While others with sad doubts and fears are haunted, And ever on the roughest billows ride." FRANCIS S. SMITH. Clifford Standish watched the scene before him with eager interest. It was like the plot of a play, this touching union of a long parted mother and child. In watching the interesting scene he forgot for a moment how it might affect his own interests. The beautiful, sorrowful widow, with tears streaming down her pale cheeks, extended her arms to Geraldine, exclaiming: "I am your own mother, my darling!" Startling and surprising as this statement was to Geraldine, not a doubt of its truth entered the girl's mind. On the contrary, her heart leaped with joy, for she had already felt herself drawn with inexplicable tenderness to the speaker.