"Tell Victor he needn't come back."

He understood her meaning, and said to his valet,

"I shall not need your services to-night. You may retire as soon
as you choose."

Something in his manner awakened Victor's suspicions, and his keen
eyes flashed upon Edith, who, with a haughty toss of the head,
turned away to avoid meeting it again.

The door was dosed at last; Victor was gone; their guests were
gone, and she was alone with Richard, who seemed waiting for her
to speak; but Edith could not. The breath she fancied would come
so freely with Victor's presence removed, would scarcely come at
all, and she felt the tears gathering like a flood every time she
looked at the sightless man before her, and thought of what was to
come. By a thousand little devices she strove to put it off, and
remembering that the piano was open, she walked with a faltering
step across the parlor, closed the instrument, smoothed the heavy
cover, arranged the sheets of music, whirled the music stool as
high as she could, turned it back as low as she could, sat down
upon it, crushed with her fingers two great tears, which, with all
her winking she could not keep in subjection, counted the flowers
on the paper border and wondered how long she should probably
live. Then, with a mighty effort she arose, and with a step which
this time did not falter, went and stood before Richard, who was
beginning to look troubled at her protracted silence. He knew she
was near him now, he could hear her low breathing, and he waited
anxiously for her to speak.