Part 20 (2/2)
There was something in Edith's voice which prompted the crazy girl to obey, and with one more a.s.surance of love she turned to her pillow, and Edith knew by her soft, regular breathing, that her troubles were forgotten.
”I hardly think you'll care to repeat the experiment again,”
Arthur said to Edith next morning, when he met her at the table, and saw that she looked rather weary. ”Nina, I fear, was troublesome, as Sophy tells me she often is.”
Edith denied Nina's having troubled her much. Still she felt that she preferred her own cozy bed-chamber to Nina's larger, handsomer room, and would not promise to spend another night at Gra.s.sy Spring, although she expressed her willingness to resume her drawing lessons, and suggested that Nina, too, should become a pupil. Arthur would much rather have had Edith all to himself, for he knew that Nina's presence would be a restraint upon him, but it was right, and he consented as the only means of having Edith back again in her old place, fancying that when he had her there it would be the same as before. But he was mistaken, for when the lessons were resumed, he found there was something between them,-- something which absorbed Edith's mind, and was to him a constant warning and rebuke. Did he bend so near Edith at her task, that his brown locks touched her blacker braids, a shower of golden curls was sure to mingle with the twain, as Nina also bent her down to see what he was looking at. Did the hand which sometimes guided Edith's pencil ever retain the fingers longer than necessary, a pair of deep blue eyes looked into his, not reproachfully, for Nina could not fathom the meaning of what she saw, but with an expression of childlike trust and confidence far more potent than frowns and jealous tears would have been. Nina was in Arthur's way, but not in Edith's, and half the pleasure she experienced now in going to Gra.s.sy Spring, was derived from the fact that she thus saw more of Nina than she would otherwise have done. It was a rare and beautiful sight, the perfect love existing between these two young girls, Edith seeming the elder, inasmuch as she was the taller and more self-reliant of the two. As a mother watches over and loves her maimed infant, so did Edith guard and cherish Nina, possessing over her so much power that a single look from her black eyes was sufficient to quiet at once the little lady, who, under the daily influence of her society visibly improved both in health and spirits.
CHAPTER XVIII.
DR. GRISWOLD.
Still Nina's mind was enshrouded in as deep a gloom as ever, and Dr. Griswold, who, toward the latter part of June, came to see her, said it would be so always. There was no hope of her recovery, and with his olden tenderness of manner he caressed his former patient, sighing as he thought of the weary life before her. For two days Dr. Griswold remained at Gra.s.sy Spring, learning in that time much how matters stood. He saw Edith Hastings,-- scanned with his clear, far-reaching eye every action of Arthur St. Claire, and when at last his visit was ended, and Arthur was walking with him to the depot, he said abruptly, ”I am sorry for you, St. Claire; more sorry than I ever was before, but you know the path of duty and you must walk in it, letting your eyes stray to neither side, lest they fall upon forbidden fruit.”
Arthur made no reply save to kick the gnarled roots of the tree under which they had stopped for a few moments.
”Edith Hastings is very beautiful!” Dr. Griswold remarked suddenly, and as if SHE had just entered his mind. ”Does she come often to Gra.s.sy Spring?”
”Every day,” and Arthur tried to look his friend fully in the face, but could not, and his brown eyes fell as he added hastily, ”she comes to see Nina; they are greatly attached.”
”She HAS a wonderful power over her, I think,” returned Dr.
Griswold; ”and I am not surprised that you esteem her highly on that account, but how will it be hereafter when other duties, other relations claim her attention. Will she not cease to visit you and so Nina made worse?”
”What new duties? What relations do you mean,” Arthur asked quickly, trembling in every joint as he antic.i.p.ated the answer.
”I have a fancy that Miss Hastings will reward that blind man for all his kindness with her heart and hand.”
”Her hand it may be, but her heart, NEVER,” interrupted Arthur, betraying by his agitation what Dr. Griswold had already guessed.
”Poor Arthur,” he said, ”I know what is in your mind and pity you so much, but you can resist temptation and you MUST. There's no alternative. You chose your destiny years ago--abide by it, then.
Hope and pray, as I do, that Edith Hastings will be the blind man's bride.”
”Oh, Griswold,” and Arthur groaned aloud, ”you cannot wish to sacrifice her thus!”
”I can--I do--it will save you both from ruin.”
”Then you think--you DO think she loves me,” and Arthur looked eagerly at his friend, who answered, ”I think nothing, save that she will marry Mr. Harrington. Your cousin told me there was a rumor to that effect. She is often at Collingwood, and ought to be posted.”
”Griswold, I wish I were dead,” exclaimed Arthur. ”Yes, I wish I were dead, and were it not that I dread the hereafter, I would end my existence at once in yonder river,” and he pointed to the Chicopee, winding its slow way to the westward.
Dr. Griswold gazed at him a moment in silence, and then replied somewhat sternly, ”Rather be a man and wait patiently for the future.”
”I would, but for the fear that Edith will be lost to me forever,”
Arthur answered faintly, and Dr. Griswold replied, ”Better so than lost herself. Why not be candid with her; tell her everything; go over the entire past, and if she truly loves you, she will wait, years and years if need be. She's young yet, too young to be a wife. Will you tell her?”
”I can't, I can't,” and Arthur shook his head despairingly. ”I have hidden the secret too long to tell it now. It might have been easy at first, but now--it's too late. Oh, Griswold, you do not understand what I suffer, for you never knew what it was to love as I love Edith Hastings.” For a moment Dr. Griswold looked at him in silence. He knew how fierce a storm had gathered round him, and how bravely he had met it. He knew, too, how impetuous and ardent was his disposition, how much one of his temperament must love Edith Hastings, and he longed to speak to him a word of comfort.
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