THE ACTOR MAKES HAY WHILE THE SUN SHINES.
"Go! let me pray, pray to forget thee!
Woe worth the day, false one, I met thee!
Ever till then, careless and free, love,
Never again thus shall I be, love.
Through my soul's sleep thine the voice breaking,
Long shall I weep, weep its awaking,
Weep for the day when first I met thee,
Then let me pray, pray to forget thee!"
Two more days passed by, and still Geraldine heard nothing of Harry
Hawthorne.
"Is it not strange--the way he has acted?" she said, at last, to Cissy,
who answered:
"Yes; he has behaved so shabbily that you ought to put him out of your
thoughts, dear."
"Oh, Cissy, do you believe that he never meant to come? That he was
unworthy?" almost piteously.
"I'm afraid so, Geraldine, for even if something had happened to keep
him away that evening, he has had ample time to explain and apologize
since then; but he has not done so, and it looks as if he was a sad
flirt, and only amused himself with you for the time, without giving
you another thought since he left you."
Cissy believed what she said, and meant only kindness, but her frank
words quivered like a thorn in Geraldine's heart.
Oh, how could she think of him as an unprincipled flirt, awakening an
interest in a young girl's heart only for his own amusement?
But still she knew that such men existed, and that many broken hearts
lay at their door.
The dread that Harry Hawthorne might be one of these heartless men
awoke to life within her a fierce and burning pride.
"No man shall break my heart. I will forget Harry Hawthorne," she
vowed, bitterly, to herself; and when the actor came that night, he
found her bright and gay as of yore. She had put on over her tortured
heart that mask of smiles which many a woman wears through life to
deceive a carping world.
"'I have a smiling face,' she said,
'I have jest for all I meet,
I have a garland for my head,
And all its flowers are sweet,
And so you call me gay,' she said.
"'Behind no prison grate,' she said,
'Which slurs the sunshine half a mile,
Live captives so uncomforted
As souls behind a smile.
God's pity let us pray,' she said."
Clifford Standish was charmed with her new mood. He saw that a reaction
had begun.
"I am glad to see you so happy, for I am sure that you have decided to
go on the road with us," he exclaimed, coaxingly.
She shook her head, and laughed, gayly:
"Do not be too sure. You know you have given me until Sunday night to
decide."
"But that is not far off--only twenty-four hours," he said, with a
smile, for he felt sure of victory. As she made no reply, he continued:
"I have made a charming invitation for you for Sunday afternoon. Some
of the leading members of our company are going to skate in the park
to-morrow--you know this cold snap has frozen the lake beautifully--and
they want me to bring you. Will you come?"
"Yes," replied Geraldine, quickly, glad of a diversion for Sunday
afternoon, so that she need not mope alone with her miserable thoughts
of how Harry Hawthorne had flirted with her for his own amusement.
For she had begun to lose faith in her handsome lover now. The leaven
of Cissy's words had worked steadily in her mind.
And a cruel self-shame that she had given her love in vain was at war
with the tenderness of her heart.
"Thank you. I am so glad you will go. I know you will like the trip and
the company," he said; then, in a changed tone: "By the way, did that
fireman ever keep his promise to call on you?"
"No," she answered, carelessly.
"Have you heard anything about him?"
"No, indeed, and I had almost forgotten the man until you recalled him
to my mind," she returned, fibbing unblushingly.
"Ah! Then you will not mind what I have to tell you?" deprecatingly.
"Of course not. What is it?" carelessly.
"Well, of course, I thought it rude and strange his not keeping his
appointment with you, and thinking something might have happened to
the fellow, as you feared, I made some indirect inquiries at the
engine-house, and found that he had returned to Newburgh the same day
he brought you back to New York."
"Indeed?" she returned, with a paling cheek, whose pallor she could not
control.
"Yes, he had gone back, but I did not like to tell you the truth. I
waited for developments. But, to-day, I met Mrs. Stansbury on the
street, and she told me something--well, see if you can guess?"
"Something very amusing, no doubt," she replied, carelessly.
"She told me she had just returned from Newburgh, and that she had left
Hawthorne there, courting her sister, Daisy Odell. It seemed that he
had been in love with the pretty little black-eyed thing some time,
and fearing that she might get jealous of the attentions he had to pay
you the day you were thrown on his care by my accidental desertion, he
returned to make his peace with her, and has been lingering by her side
ever since. Mrs. Stansbury was vastly amused over it all, and said to
me, 'He flirted shockingly with that pretty little salesgirl, didn't
he? but I hope she knew it was only fun! Give my love to her when you
see her again!'"
Geraldine treated the matter with a seeming careless indifference, but,
oh! the tumult of wounded love and pride that raged within her girlish
breast!
"I was so fond of that woman, and she was only kind to me for the sake
of a little amusement," she thought, with hot and burning cheeks at
his tone when he repeated Mrs. Stansbury's contemptuous epithet, "that
little salesgirl!"
To herself she said, angrily:
"I will not be a poor salesgirl any longer, to be twitted with my
humble position in life. I will become an actress, and my talents will
make me famous, so that these people will go to see me act, and be
proud to say, 'I knew her once, but she is so rich and grand now that
she would not stoop to renew the acquaintance.' As for Harry Hawthorne,
who knows but that I may be able to pay him back some day for the
slight he put on me! I am no longer grateful to him for saving my life;
for why should he have saved it, only to plant a thorn in my heart?"
But she did not tell Cissy what the actor had told her about Harry
Hawthorne. She could not bear to confess her humiliation.
But she went with Standish to the park the next day, and while skating
on the lake a vision of beauty and grace that attracted the eyes of
admiring hundreds, she told him that she had decided to go with the
company on the road.
"Although Cissy is very angry with me, and vows that I will repent it
in dust and ashes," she added, uneasily.
"Don't listen to her croaking. She only envies your good fortune," he
returned, reassuringly. "Why, you will soon be rich and famous, Miss
Harding, for your beauty and talent will win you rapid promotion on the
boards. Do you see how all those strangers have watched you on the ice
to-day? It is because your face has already won you the sobriquet of
'the prettiest salesgirl in New York.' Soon it will be changed to 'the
prettiest actress on the stage.' Will not that sound better?"