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THE NEW: YORK LEDGER.
NOVEMBER 26, 1892.
in a straight line from father to eldest son,
until about the time of the commencement
of our story it came into the possession of
Gerald Fitzgerald, one of the noblest, finest
and most accomplished gentlemen of his
race. -
But ‘welladay!” as the old’ retainers
say, all the other manors of the Fitzgeralds
in Wilde County had ‘fallen to the’ dis-
taff’—that is'to say, that, failing male
heirs, they had passed into, the Possession
of a girl, the. only daughter of. Otho F:
gerald, of Forest Lodge, the dark- eyed,
queenly Geraldine, who, to keep the es-
tates in the. family name, had been from
her earliest childhood betrothed to her
cousin Gerald, second son of Maurice Fitz-
gerald, of the. Summit Manor.
When Geraldine was but five years of
age, she lost both ‘her parents by a catas-
trophe. “While crossing the Wilde in'an
open boat, they were covertaken by a sud-
den squall, capsized and drowned.
After their death, a search was made for
a will, but none found.’ None had
been thought nec td be executed at
that early stage of their life’s journey.
The Orphan’s Court acted in the prem-
ises, and appointed the child’s nearest of
kin, her two uncles, Maurice Fitzgerald, of
the Summit Manor, and Royal Greenleaf,
of Greenwood, as guardians of the heiress
and trustees of her estates. Royal Green-
leaf, a wild bachelor, left the child entirely
to the charge of her senior guardian.
All the Fitzgeralds had been Roman
Catholics from ‘the time when, a thousand
years before, their Tuscan progenitors, the
renowned Gherardini, had gone carpet-
bagging into Ireland; therefore, the heiress
of half a dozen manors must be educated
as a Roman Catholic.
Maurice Fitzgerald was a widower, with
two sons—Maurice, the heir of the Sum-
mit Manor, and Gerald, the cadet, heir to
nothing but the Fi itzgerald’ 's ancient name
and the F itegerald’s 's dark Irish-Italian
beauty, with no daughters, and with only a
faithful old colored housekeeper at the head
of his establishment.
Taking all these circumstances into con-
sideration, Maurice Fitzgerald. resolved to
convey his infant ward to Paris and leave
her there to be educated in a e rench con-
His second son Gerald he had long de-
termined should be ‘sent to West Point to
be educated for the army.
And now, since getting the little heiress
of many manors into his hands, he des-
tined these cousins for each other. The for-
tune of Geraldine would make his portion-
less younger son much richer than his eld-
est son and heir.
As if to favor his project, the orphan
child of five summers had formed a strong
and passionate attachment, as infants will
sometimes, to the handsome lad of fifteen.
And when the farce of a betrothal was per-
formed between these two and a tiny dia-
d ring was placed upon the finger of
little Geraldine, she readily promised that
en she should grow up to be a woman
she would marry her dear Cousin Gerald,
and no other.
The lad, on his part, laughingly yielded
to his father’s will in what he considered a
mere comedy, but had thought enough to
limit Azs promise with a condition: He
would marry his cousin, when she should
grow up to be a woman, if she should con-
tinue to love him,
Thus the young cousins parted.
The youth left home fo enter the Mili-
~ tary Academy at West
The child was conveyed ‘abroad. Durin.
the whole’ voyage across the Atlantic
Ocean, Mr. Fitzgerald took care to impress
upon the little one’s mind and heart the
solemn nature of a betrothal, and her duty
always to think of her Cousin Gerald as'her
future husband, and the only one she ever
could possibly marry,
And the infant as constantly answered,
assuring him that she never would be so
naughty as to think about marrying any-
body else, and revealing her pathetic ‘‘in-
nocence in ignorance” by such words as
thes
“ No, unky, I never will marry nobod
but dear, aacting, precious a Gerald,
not even a queen or a fairy la
«« Early impressions are always tl the deep-
est and strongest, and I {hink the child will
keep her promise and the woman will re-
deem it,” said Maurice Fitzgerald, to him-
elf.
When he left Geraldine at the Convent
of the Visitation in Paris, he took care to
have a private interview with the mother
superior, in which he informed that lady
that the infant heiress he had just left in
her charge was betrothed to her cousin, a
worthy son of the church, whom it was ex-
tremely desirable that she should marry,
and that the child must be constantly kept
in the thought that she must be as faithful
to her betrothed as she was to her religion.
The mother superior promised to follow
the instructions of ‘Mri Fitzgerald,‘and so
the interview terminated, and the Virginian
gentleman, having no farther: business in
Paris, returned to y his native country: ~~
Years passed.» The young cadet, Gerald
Fitzgerald, graduated first in: his class, and
recéived his commission as a lieutenant of
cavalry.
‘To make the most of a short leave of
absence, he ran over to Paris on a flying
visit to his little betrothed. - He found her
now a beautiful child, ten years old, and
tall for her age. She had not forgotten
him, She-had been as ‘faithful to: his
memory as any vailed vorary in that con-
vent to’ her Lord.- yh, with what
worshiping, adoring eves the child looked
up to him now, in the splendor of his
young manhood, arrayed, too, in the hand-
some uniform of a cavalry officer, sure to
attract the admiring eyes of childhood or
dt
He thought her the loveliest rosebud
that had ever bloomed within convent walls,
and he hoped that he would be able to wait
patiently and keep faith like a true knight
during the eight years that must pass be-
fore she should reach a marriageable age.
He returned home, and was-soon ap-
pointed to a regiment ordered to Florida,
where the Indian war had just broken ‘out.
There he so distinguished himself for
courage, skill and wacties that he soon rose
to we Zankk of captai
the. war Was successfully ly, termi-
nated, She came home on a long leave and
went abroad once more to visit his be-
trothed at her convent.
He found her now a most beautiful bru-
nette of fourteen, so tall for her age that
she looked full sixteen years old; and if
she'no longer looked up to him with the
innocent, worshiping gaze of childhood,
she dropped her beautiful eyes as her color |
deepened beneath his ardent gaze; for now
re was really and passionately in love with
=
“Tie lingered in Paris, visiting her every
day. He was permitted to-do so by the |.
mother superior, for was he not her be-
trothed husband and‘a true son of the
church? So he went to see her every day
and stayed as long as he liked, and that
was generally very long; for in the fervid
exaggeration of his love he declared that
he lived only in her presence, died as soon
s he left her and came to life again only
when it was time to revisit her. e lin-
gered in Paris up to the latest day that he
could stay with safety, and nly when
he was forced to hurry away in order to
reach his native country in time to report
for duty at the expiration of his leave of | m
absence.
When hereached Washington, he learned
that war had just been declared against
Mexico, and the whole country was arming
for the conflict.
His regiment was ordered to join Gen-
eral Scott.
In Mexico the gallant young officer per-
formed miracles of military skill and valor,
made his name famous all over the coun-
try, and rose to the rank of brevet-brigadier-
general. After the victorious termination
of the war he was sent in command
of an expedition against the hostile In-
dians of the [lains, whose turbulence
kept him on active duty on the frontier for
some years longer and, indeed, until an
urgent letter from his ‘father, jnforming
him of the sudden death of his elder
brother, from congestion of the brain,
summoned him home. Then he asked
and obtained leave of absence, and has-
tened back to his native State. He found
his father very much shattered by the
heavy blow he had received on the unex-
pected death of his eldest son, which
Gerald learned had been occasioned by
exposure to the rays of a burning August
sun, while out riding on horseback.
To distract his grief the old gentleman
proposed to go to France and bring ba
his young ward, Geraldine Fitgeral, who
was then in her’ nineteenth y
Colonel Fitzgerald (for he was still called
Colonel Fitzgerald at home, although he
was a’ brigadier-general by brevet) would
have gladly gone with his father on this
mission of love had his short leave of ab-
sence allowed him; but it did not, nor
would the gallant soldier ask for an exten-
sion of leave, while he knew that his pres-
ence wasso much needed at his dangerous
frontier post of duty. So in September
the father and son parted—the father to
go on his sea-voyage, the son to return to
the Western plains.
If any circumstance could have consoled
Maurice Fitzgerald for the loss of his eldest
son, it must have been the finding of his
queenly niece and prospective daughter-
in-law,
Geraldine Fitzgerald, at nineteen years
of age, was one of the most imperial beau-
ties that ever lived in this or any other age
or country; and, ah, she was not only im-
perial in presence but i imperious in temper !
Her form was’ unusually tall for a woman,
but so perfectly proportioned that her every
attitude and - motion’ was full ‘of ..majestic
grace. Her features were cast in the purest
Grecian mold; her complexion was like
the tea-rose, pale and clear, save where it
ushed faintly.on the cheeks and glowed
brightly on the: lips; her eyes were large,
deep blue and fringed with thick black
lashes, that made them seem also black as
night; her hair was long, black and lus-
trous and worn in-heay y braids, partly
coiled-in a large roll at the back of her
head, partly wound around and set a natu-
ral crown above her forehead. She still
wore the convent-sckool uniform of black
cashmere, with white collar and cuffs; . but.
wore it with such grace and’ dignity they
might, have seemed regal robes.
Mr. - Fi itzgerald was very proud of his
daughter-in-law-elect.- Looking on her,
Ke also thought-that she would -not only
make his beloved son doubly rich with her
wealth but very happy with her love; for
it was apparent to Mr. Fitzgerald that this
beautiful woman still kept the child’s prom-
ise, sul loved her handsome cousin.
e did not thoroughly know her.
She was, after all, but a brilliant young
panther, capable of loving, adoring, yea,
worshiping her betrothed husband so long
as she believed herself to be the first object
of his thoughts; capable, also, of wound-
ing him unto death if her suspicion of his
fidelity should be aroused.
“As yet, nothing had occurred to disturb
er confidence. Ter faith in her betrothed
|, was as strong as her love for him, and both
were as strong as life and death. He was
the one passion of her
~ She’ parted with the ade: abbess, the
only mother she had ever known, and with
| the kindly nuns, her companions for many
‘years, and with her school-mates,. who
loved her well, and she left them gladly,
without an instart’s regret, because -she
was thinking only of her betrothed hus-
band, caring only for him and. going to
him.
But, ah, disappointment awaited her at
home! . She was brought by her guardian
to the Summit Manor House, where-now
his own old maiden cousin, Miss Maxima
Rowley, had been induced to come and
act as the chaperon of the young heiress,
until such time as her marriage with Gerald
Fitzgerald should enable her to dispense
with such feminine protection.
But the bridegroom-expectant was not
there to meet them, as they had confi-
dently hoped that he would’be. A letter
et them instead, in which the writer in-
formed his waiting betrothed bride that
the Comanche and Apache tribes of In-
dians were again giving great trouble to
the frontier settlers, and that he could not
then ask for a furlough; a soldier’ 's s place,
in the hour of danger, is at his post
Mr. Fitzgerald was disappointed.
“Gerald ought to have asked for a fur-
Iough, He could have got one at once on
the asking, but his chivalric sense of honor
prevented him from doing so, I suppose.”
But Geraldine was more than d
pointed; she was embittered. Her lips
quivered for a’ moment and then closed
rmly; the tears sprang to her eyes, but
were proudly represse
Mr. Fitzgerald saw the indignation, with:
out perceiving the wounded love beneat
“It is Gerald’s chivalric sense of honor,
you know, my dear,” ke repeated.
“Colonel Fitzgerald should resign.
There can be no earthly reason why the
heir-apparent of Summit Manor should
continue to wear—the /ivery of any gov-
ernment under the sun; for the uniform zs
a livery, a mere badge of servitude, after
all. Gerald Fitzgerald, the heir of Sum-
mit Manor and my own betrothed husba and,
should resign his omission at once,” she
answered haught!
“ An officer and’: a cor an as my son
is, never resigns in time of dan He
resigns, if he pleases, when the edanger i is
over!” exclaimed Mr.’ Fitzgerald, with
Stately courtesy.
But the next day, another letter came
from Colonel Fitzgerald—a letter so elo-
quent of the soldier’s noble love for his be-
loved bride that her anger was almost ap-
peased, although he still talked of a long
campaign in the Indian country and still
set his duty above his love.
But when Christmas and New Year came
and passed without bringing him home,
her indignation blazed forth again, espe-
cially when her saucy little cousin, Patricia
Fitzgerald, commonly called Pat Fitz, sang
out:
“Oh, a laggard in love and a “Quixote” in war
Is to wed the fair Helen of young Lochinvar!”
Winter melted into spring, and spring
bloomed into summer, before the Indian
troubles were over and the faithful soldier
was recalled home,
He hastened down into Virginia to see
his betrothed, whom he had not seen for
five long, tedious years. ?
Their meeting was a compensation for
all the trying days of absence.» He found
er more imperially beautiful than ever.
She thought him even more princely and
heroic than: the dreams of her fancy had
ever pictured him.
Their marriage-day was fixed for the
16th of July. And this being settled; Colo-
nel Fitzgerald left for the city. of Washing-
ton, to transact some’ important business
there, previous to resigning his commis- .
sion as a colonel of cavalry.
The dark-eyed, queenly “Geraldine now
busied herself with preparations: for her
wedding. Her svousseau had been ordered
from Paris, some months previous, in con-
fident anticipation of the marriage, and she
was daily expecting its arrival by the train
of carriers’ wagons that in those days. did
duty as “express” and communicated be
tween the sea-ports and the inter
At length, early in July, the “ong: ex-
pected treasures arived per bark Afary
£liza, from London to Alexandria, and
were dispatched thence by wagon to Wilde-
ille.
vil
* A letter from the Alexandria agent ap-
prised .Mr. Fitzgerald of what had’ been
done, and that gentleman sent a covered
cart to Wildeville to meet the wagon. and
bring the parcels on to the Summit. ©
mit Manor House‘ was well
named. It was a huge structure of old red
sandstone, built somewhat in’ the form of
the letter H, upon a lofty plateau overlook-
ing the Wilde,: about half-way down be-
tween Haddon’s Ferry and the village of
Wildeville. The ‘grounds were terraced
n front of the house, and planted with the
rarest and most beautiful trees and shrubs.
And both house and grounds ‘had been
lately renovated in honor of the approach-
ing nuptials.
n the morning of the day on which our
story began, a pleasant party of young
people were assembled in one of the upper
front-chambers of the manor-house, whose
open front-windows commanded a most
magnificent view of the Wilde iRiver and
the Eagle Roost Ridge beyo
They youthful party consisted ofthe bride-
elect and, her bridemaids, all chosen from
among her nearest relatives and ‘best
loved friends, and all gathered here, by
previous arrangement, on the eve of the
wedding-day.
The beautiful, stately, dark-haired Ger-
aldine sat at one of the windows, with her
elbow leaning on the sill, her head resting
on her hand, and her gaze absently fixed
on the winding bridle-path that led down
the Summit to the Wildeville Turnpike.
She was very carelessly clothed. She wore
a rich loose wrapper of maize-colored India
silk, embroidered with gold, and lightly
folded around her regal form. Her long,
shining black hair flowed freely, rippling
down her shoulders... Her feet, thrust
into cool India-satin slippers, rested on a
foot-stool.
She had been trying on dress after dress
from the costly /rousseau that had arrived
that morning. @ was very weary of it
all, as it lay beaming and glowing in heaps
upon the bed, upon the tables, upon the
chairs and upon every available place in
the splendid disorder of her chamber ; and
she was weary-—oh, how weary !—of wait-
ing for her lagging bridegroom.
‘He had been due here for more than a
week, for this house was his home even
more than hers. It was his home in right
of his father, as it was her home in right of
her guardian, and yet he neither came nor
wrote, though their wedding-day was at
and.
ea
Why had he hot. come according to
promise? Or, if any insurmountable ob-
stacle prevented him: from coming, why
had he not written to explain?
There were two arrivals from Washing-
ton by coach to Wildeville every day, yet
mornings and_ evenings had passed for a
week without bringing the man himself or
any message from .
Geraldine had. written to him twice in
succession, but her letters remaining un-
answered, she had stopped in very pride.
Mr. Fitzgerald had written several times,
but his letters: shared the same fate with
hers. He would have gone to Washington
himself to make inquiries for his missing
son, but that he was held a prisoner in his
chamber by the gout. He ‘might have
written and made inquiries of other parties
in Washington but that, during the re-
cess of Congress, he had not'a single ac-
quaintance in the city; nor did he like to
address any stranger on a private family
matter, unless driven to do so by the great-
est stress of circumstances. And he con-
sidered that this case aid not yet require
such desperate remedie:
Some little affair easily explained had -
probably taken his son out of town fora