"Yes, Arthur does," Nina rejoined quickly, "him praying so one night when he thought I was asleep--I make believe half of the time, so as to hear what he says when he kneels down over in that corner; and once, Miggie, a great while ago, it was nothing but one dreadful groan, except when he said, 'God help me in this my darkest hour, and give me strength to drink this cup.' But there wasn't any cup there for I peaked, thinking maybe he'd go some of my nasty medicine, and it wasn't dark, either for there were two candles on the mantel and they shone on Arthur's face, which looked to me as if it were a thousand years old. Then he whispered, 'Edith, Edith,' and the sound was so like a wail that I felt my blood growing cold. Didn't you hear him, Miggie, way off to the north; didn't you hear him call? God did, and helped him, I reckon, for he got up and came and bent over me, kissing me so much, and whispering, 'My wife, my Nina.' It was sweet to be so kissed, and I fell away to sleep; but Arthur must have knelt beside me the livelong night, for every time I moved I felt his hand clasp mine. The next day he told me that Richard saved you from the river, and his lips quivered as if he feared you were really lost." Alas! Nina had come nearer the truth than she supposed, and Edith involuntarily echoed her oft-repeated words, "Poor Arthur," for she knew now what had preceded that cry of more than mortal anguish which Arthur sent to Grace after hearing first of the engagement. "Nina" she said, after a moment's silence, "before that time of which you speak, there came a night of grief to me--a night when I wished that I might die, because Richard asked me to be his wife-- me, who looked upon him as my father rather than a husband. I can't tell you what he said to me, but it was very touching, very sad, and my heart ached so much for the poor blind man." "But you didn't tell him yes," interrupted Nina. "You couldn't. You didn't love him. It's wicked to act a lie Miggie--as wicked as 'tis to tell one. Say you told him no; it chokes me just to think of it." "Nina," and Edith's voice was low and earnest in its tone, "I thought about it four whole weeks and at last I went to Richard and said, 'I will be your wife.' I have never taken it back, I am engaged to him, and I shall keep my word. Were it not that you sent for me I should have been his bride ere this. I shall be his bride on New Year's night."