Arthur complied with his request, and pressing the right one, Richard continued, "I joined this once with another, a tiny, little hand, now laid away beneath the Southern flowers; and you said after me, 'I, Arthur, take thee, Nina, for my wife.' You remember it, don't you?" Arthur could not speak, and, save the violent start which Edith gave, there came no answer to Richard's question as he went on: "It is only a few weeks since I learned who was that boy husband of eighteen and that girlish bride of fifteen and a half, but I know it now. I know it all, and this explains much that has been strange in me of late. Edith," and he felt for her bowed head, "Edith, I have here Nina's letter, written by stealth, and brought by Victor to me, and you must read it to us--then tell me, if you can, why I have so long been deceived?" Edith had glanced at the beginning, and with a choking voice she said, "No, no, oh, Richard, no. Don't require it of me. Anything but that. I never knew she wrote it. I never meant--oh, Richard, Richard!" She laid her head now on his knee and sobbed aloud, while he continued: "You must read it to me, 'Tis the only punishment I shall inflict upon you." "Read it, Edith," Arthur said, withdrawing one of his hands from Richard's, and resting it upon her head thus to re-assure her, Richard guessed his intention and laid his own on Arthur's. Edith felt the gentle, forgiving pressure, even through the wounded, bandaged hand, and this it was which gave her strength to read that message, which brought Nina before them all, a seemingly living, breathing presence. And when it was finished there was heard in that library more than one "great cry, like the breaking up of the ice on the Northern ponds." Richard was the calmest of the three. The contents of the letter were not new to him, and did not touch so tender a chord as that which thrilled and quivered in Arthur's heart as he listened to the words of his sweet child-wife, the golden haired Nina. Though dead she was all powerful yet, and Nina, from her grave, swayed a mightier sceptre than Nina living could have done. "Edith," Richard said, when her agitation had in a measure subsided, "you have read the letter, now tell me, is it true? Crazy people do not always see or hear aright. Did Nina? Has Arthur loved you all the time?" "Spare Edith," Arthur cried; "And question me. I did love Edith Hastings, even when I had no right so to do." "And would you ask her to be your wife if there were no Richard in the way, and she was free as when you first knew and loved her?" Arthur knew the blind man was not trifling with him, and he answered promptly, "I would, but she will bear me witness that never since Nina died, have I sought, by word or deed, to influence her decision."