Part 38 (2/2)
They were harmless now, those little waxen hands, and they caressed Arthur's face and hair as Nina went on.
”Arthur boy, there's one question I must ask you, now there's n.o.body to hear, and you will tell me truly. Do you love me any-- love me differently from what you did when I was in the Asylum, and if the buzzing all was gone, and never could come back, would you really make me your wife just as other husbands do--would you let me sit upon your knee, and not wish it was some one else, and in the night when you woke up and felt me close to you would you be glad thinking it was Nina? And when you had been on a great long journey, and were coming home, would the smoke from the chimney look handsomer to you because you knew it was Nina waiting for you by the hearth-stone, and keeping up the fire? Don't tell me a falsehood, for I'll forgive you, if you answer no.”
”Yes, Nina, yes. I would gladly take you as my wife if it could be. My broken lily is very precious to me now, far more so than she used to be. The right love for her began to grow the moment I confessed she was my wife, and when she's gone, Arthur will be so lonely.”
”Will you, Arthur boy? Will you, as true as you live and breathe, miss poor, buzzing Nina? Oh, I'm so glad, so glad,” and the great tears dimmed the brightness of the blue eyes, which looked up so confidingly at Arthur. ”I, too, have loved you a heap; not exactly as I loved Charlie Hudson, I reckon, but the knowing you are my husband, makes Nina feel kind of nice, and I want you to love me some--miss me some--mourn for me some, and then, Arthur, Nina wants you to marry Miggie. There is no buzzing; no twist in her head. It will rest as quietly on your bosom where mine has never lain, not as hers will, I mean, and you both will be so happy at last--happy in knowing that Nina has gone out into the eternal daylight, where she would rather be. You'll do it, Arthur; she must not marry Richard, and you must speak to her quick, before she goes home, so as to stop it, for New Year's is the time. Will you, Arthur?”
There was an instant of silence in the room--Nina waiting for Arthur to speak, and Arthur mustering all his strength to answer her as he felt he must.
”My darling,” laying his face down upon her neck among her yellow curls, ”I shall never call another by the dear name I call you now, my wife.”
”Oh, Arthur,” and Nina's cheeks flushed with indignant surprise, that he, too, should prove refractory. Everything indeed, was getting upside down. ”Why not?” she asked. ”Don't you love Miggie?”
”Yes, very, very dearly! but it is too much to hope that she will ever be mine. I do not deserve it. You ask me my forgiveness, Nina. Alas! alas! I have tenfold more need of yours. It did not matter that we both wearied of our marriage vows, made when we were children--did not matter that you are crazy--I had no right to love another.
”But you have paid for it all a thousand times!” interrupted Nina.
”You are a better Arthur than you were before, and Nina never could see the wrong in your preferring beautiful, sensible Miggie, to crazy, scratching, biting, teasing Nina, even if Richard had said over a few words, of which neither of us understood the meaning, or what it involved, this taking for better or worse. It surely cannot be wrong to marry Miggie when I'm gone, and you will, Arthur, you will!”
”No, Nina, no! I should be adding sin to sin did I seek to change her decision, and so wrong the n.o.ble Richard. His is the first, best claim. I will not interfere. Miggie must keep her word uninfluenced by me. I shall no raise my voice against it.”
”Oh, Arthur, Arthur!” Nina cried, clasping her hands together; ”Miggie does not love him, and you surely know the misery of a marriage without love. It must not be! It shall no be! you can save Miggie, and you must!”
Every word was fainter than the preceding, and, when the last was uttered, Nina's head dropped from Arthur's shoulder to the pillow, and he saw a pinkish stream issuing from her lips. A small blood vessel had been ruptured, and Arthur, who knew the danger, laid his hand upon her mouth as he saw her about to speak, bidding her be quiet if she would not die at once.
Death, however long and even anxiously expected is unwelcome at the last, and Nina shrank from its near approach, laying very still, while Arthur summoned aid. Only once she spoke, and then she whispered, ”Miggie,” thus intimating that she would have her called. In much alarm Edith came, trembling when she saw the fearful change which had pa.s.sed over Nina, whose blue eyes followed her movements intently, turning often from her to Arthur as If they fain would utter what was in her mind. But not then was Nina St. Claire to die. Many days and nights were yet appointed her, and Arthur and Edith watched her with the tenderest care; only these two, for so Nina would have it. Holding their hands in hers she would gaze from one to the other with a wistful, pleading look, which, far better than words, told what she would say, were It permitted her to speak, but in the deep brown eyes of Arthur, she read always the same answer, while Edith's would often fill with tears as she glanced timidly at the apparently cold, silent man, who, she verily believed, had ceased to love her.
But Nina knew better. Clouded as was her reason, she penetrated the mask he wore, and saw where the turbulent waters surged around him, while with an iron will and a brave heart he contended with the angry waves, and so outrode the storm. And as she watched them day after day, the purpose grew strong within her that if it were possible the marriage of Edith and Richard should be prevented, and as soon as she was able to talk she broached the subject to them both.
”Stay, Miggie,” she said to Edith, who was stealing from the room.
”Hear me this once. You are together now, you and Arthur.”
”Nina,” said the latter, pitying Edith's agitation, ”You will spare us both much pain if you never allude again to what under other circ.u.mstances might have been.”
”But I must,” cried Nina. ”Oh, Arthur, why won't you go to Richard and tell him all about it?”
”Because it would be wrong,” was Arthur's answer, and then Nina turned to Edith, ”Why won't you, Miggie?”
”Because I have solemnly promised that I would not,” was her reply.
And Nina rejoined, ”Then I shall write. He loved little Snow Drop.
He'll heed what she says when she speaks from the grave. I'll send him a letter.”
”Who'll take it or read it to him if you do?” Arthur asked, and the troubled eyes of blue turned anxiously to Edith.
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