"Yes, he made me Arthur's wife; but I wish he hadn't for then you would not look so white and sorry." "Never mind that," returned Edith, "but listen to the message he sent his little Snowdrop," and she read what Richard had written to Nina. "I wish I could be one of those bright angels," Nina said, mournfully, when Edith finished reading; "but, Miggie, Nina's so bad. I can think about it this morning, for the buzzing in my head is very faint, and I don't get things much twisted, I reckon. I've been bad to Arthur a heap of times, and he was never anything but kind to me. I never saw a frown on his face or heard an impatient word, only that sorry look, and that voice so sad." "Don't, Nina, don't. "Even Dr. Griswold was not patient as Arthur. He was quicker like, and his face would grow so red. He used to shake me hard, and once he raised his hand, but Arthur caught it quick and said 'No, Griswold, not that--not strike Nina,' and I was tearing Arthur's hair out by handfuls, too. That's when I bit him. I told you once." "Yes, I know," Edith replied; "but I wish to talk of something besides Arthur, now. Are you sure you can understand me?" "Yes, it only buzzed like a honey-bee, right in here," and Nina touched the top of her head, while Edith continued. "Did Arthur ever tell you who it was that fell into the Rhine?" "Yes, Mrs. Atherton wrote, and I cried so hard, but he did not say your name was Eloise, or I should have guessed you were Miggie, crazy as I am." "Possibly Grace did not so write to him," returned Edith; "but let me tell you of Edith Hastings as she used to be when a child;" and with the blue eyes of Nina fixed upon her, Edith narrated that portion of her history already known to the reader, dwelling long upon Richard's goodness, and thus seeking to prepare her sister for the last, the most important part of all. "After Arthur deceived me so," she said," I thought my heart would never cease to ache, and it never has." "But it will--it will," cried Nina, raising herself in bed. "When I'm gone, it will all come right. I pray so every day, though it's hard to do it sometimes now I know you are my sister. It would be so nice to live with you and Arthur, and I love you so much. You can't begin to know," and the impulsive girl fell forward on Edith's bosom sobbing impetuously, "I love you so much, so much, that it makes it harder to die; but I must, and when the little snow-birds come back to the rose bushes beneath the windows of Grassy Spring a great ways off, the hands that used to feed them with crumbs will be laid away where they'll never tear Arthur boy's hair any more. Oh, I wish they never had--I wish they never had," and sob after sob shook Nina's delicate frame as she gave vent to her sorrow for the trial she had been to Arthur. Edith attempted to comfort her by saying, "He has surely forgiven you, darling; and Nina, please don't talk so much of dying, Arthur and I both hope you will live yet many years."