Did all girls behave like this? Richard wished he knew. Did sweet
Lucy Collingwood, when she gave her young spring life to his
father's brown October? Lucy had loved her husband, he knew, and
there was quite as much difference between them as between himself
and Edith. Possibly 'twas a maidenly weakness to cry, as Edith was
doing. He would think so at all events. It were death to think
otherwise, and caressing her with unwonted tenderness, he kissed
her tears away, telling her how happy she had made him by
promising to be his--how the darkness, the dreariness all was
gone, and the world was so bright and fair. Then, as she continued
weeping and he remembered what had heretofore passed between them,
he said to her earnestly: "Edith, there is one thing I would know.
Is it a divided love you bring me, or is it no love at all. I have
a right to ask you this, my darling. Is it gratitude alone which
prompted your decision? If it is, Edith, I would die rather than
accept it. Don't deceive me, darling, I cannot see your face--
cannot read what's written there. Alas! alas! that I am blind to-
night; but I'll trust you, birdie; I'll believe what you may tell
me. Has an affection, different from a sister's, been born within
the last four weeks? Speak! do you love me more than you did? Look
into my eyes, dearest; you will not deal falsely with me then."

Like an erring, but penitent child, Edith crept into his lap, but
did not look into the sightless eyes. She dared not, lest the gaze
should wring from her quivering lips the wild words trembling
there, "Forgive me, Richard, but I loved Arthur first." So she hid
her face in his bosom, and said to him,

"I do not love you, Richard, as you do me. It came too sudden, and