Bending down to Geraldine, he whispered, hoarsely: "Let me speak to you alone." She withdrew with him to a little distance, and he whispered, sternly: "Do not forgot that I have sworn that you shall marry me, or become the bride of Death." "I will remember," she faltered, and he added: "The discovery of your mother makes no difference in your promise to me. She must not refuse your hand to me." Geraldine saw that he was in a desperate mood, and she did not care to offend him; but her heart was throbbing joyfully in her breast, for she knew that heaven itself would come to her aid, and that she would surely outwit him at last. But she said, with quiet dignity: "Mr. Standish, it would seem as if common decency required the postponement of this subject until after my mother has buried her dead." "You are trying to escape me!" he exclaimed, warningly; but he saw by her indignant look that he was presuming too far, for she said, quickly: "This harshness will not further your cause with me, sir. You cannot marry me by brute force." "That is true; but I have your promise." "Extorted from me under menace of death!" she returned, indignation getting the better of her calmness. "Oh, Geraldine, cannot you forgive the madness of a love like mine that dares anything rather than lose you?" he implored, with theatrical fervor. "Geraldine, dear," called her mother, softly, and she darted back to her side. The lady said, quickly: "My dear daughter, I can never give my consent to your marriage with that person." Geraldine threw her arms about the lady, and whispered, thrillingly: "Dear mother, I do not wish to marry him; but--let us wait until after we reach Chicago before we repudiate my promise. I fear his anger, for he is a desperate man. Let us temporize with him until we are out of his power." By that time Standish had returned to his seat, and seeing that the proud mother of Geraldine was determined to ignore him, his anger made him say, sullenly: "Madame, you have asserted a claim to Miss Harding, as your daughter, but you have presented no proofs to substantiate your claim. As her present guardian and her betrothed husband, I must request the production of those proofs." She gazed at him in cold astonishment at this audacity, but answered, frigidly: "Your solicitude does you credit, but I can satisfy all your doubts." Beckoning the conductor, who was passing through the car, she said, quietly: "Kindly tell this person my name and standing." Standish winced under the contemptuous epithet, "person," and glared at the conductor, who turned to him and said: "Mrs. A. T. Fitzgerald, formerly of New York, now of Chicago, was the wife, now the widow, of A. T. Fitzgerald, the foremost banker and capitalist of Chicago." Standish bowed without a word. He saw the impassable gulf of wealth and social position yawning between him and pretty Geraldine, but he swore to himself that he would not give her up.