He took his baby and her nurse, and sailed immediately for the United States. His sister was about changing her home to a distant city, and to her care he committed his little Editha, to be brought up as her own, deeming it wiser to renounce all claim to her than that she should grow up to know of her mother’s folly and sin. That was what those strange words meant that he uttered upon the night before he died, when his eyes fondly followed Editha from the room, and he had said: “God grant that _that_ sin may never shadow _her_ life.” After the death of his parents he had left his native town and repaired to the city where his sister, Mrs. Dalton, resided, that he might be near and watch over his child, whom he loved almost to idolatry. He never sought to obtain a divorce from Estelle, nor cared to marry again; his trust in woman was destroyed, and he lived only to make Editha happy, and amass a fortune to leave her at his death. How well he succeeded in this we all know; her life up to his death was like a cloudless summer’s day: she had never known a care or a sorrow that he had not lightened; she had never shed a tear in his presence that he had not wiped with the utmost tenderness away. Aside from what might be considered his unreasonableness and harshness toward his young and erring wife, he was a noble, tender-hearted, upright man, beloved and respected to an unusual degree by all who knew him. His was a singularly sad and isolated life, brightened only by the occasional presence of the child he dare not own, lest he bring a blight on her otherwise sunny life. While he lived, Sumner Dalton had not dared to treat her in any but the most gentle and tender manner. She might oppose him in any way that her imperious little will dictated, but he could only hide his anger and irritability by laughing at her wilfulness. But once Richard Forrester’s surveillance removed, his natural tyranny and cruelty came to the surface, causing her much of sadness and suffering, while he even dared to risk her life and happiness to gratify his ignoble passion for revenge upon another. CHAPTER XLVII EDITHA’S GREETING Fifteen minutes after Madam Forrester left Earle a light step sounded outside the door, a trembling hand turned the silver handle, and Editha Forrester stood once more in the presence of her lover. She was somewhat pale and worn, as madam had said; but a lovely flush of expectation and delight had crept into her cheeks, and a joyous light gleamed from her beautiful eyes, as Earle leaped to his feet and went forward to meet her. No word was spoken for the first few moments—their feelings were too deep, too sacred, for any outward expression; but Earle drew her to his breast and held her there with a strong, tender clasp that claimed her his own forever—that told her they would nevermore be parted while both should live. Editha was the first to break the significant silence.