of his love, persuaded his mother to come to the little girl whose sad story she knew and whom in her heart she could not but revere.
"And she came to New York—she, embodiment of all that a good wife and mother means—she came and saw the little girl and assured her that she would be welcome to her home; that no allusion would ever be made to her sad story.
"And the little girl, who had resisted the pleadings of the man who had loved her and because she loved him, could not resist the pleadings of the mother, and on April 4, 1905, they were united at the altar, when he in return for her love pledged to her before Almighty God that he would protect her. And these two were then made one.
"And after a trip westward they returned to the shades of Lyndhurst, the old family homestead. They were happy in each other's love, happy in each other's confidence, forgetting the past.
"But social or business exigencies would not prevent them from coming to New York, and one day while riding down one of your streets there appeared the form of the man who had been the cause of so much anguish, and he, though she was the wife of another man, stared at her, and had the audacity to call her by her first name.
"She went back to the hotel where her husband was, and told him what had happened. And he, in his anger, exclaimed: 'The dirty blackguard had no right to speak to you—no right to speak your name.' And he extracted from her the promise that no matter what happened she would tell him all.
"'He made me,' she says, 'promise that if I ever saw Stanford White I was to come home and tell him of it.'
"They next met in New York when she was going to a physician. Their hansoms crossed at Thirty-fourth street.
