Like gleams of lightning,
confused memories of the past came rushing over her only to pass
away, leaving her in deeper darkness. One thought, however, like a
blinding flash caused her brain to reel, while she grasped
Arthur's arm, exclaiming, "Are you sure the baby died--sure she
was buried with her mother?"
"Yes, perfectly sure," was Arthur's reply, and with the sensation
of disappointment, Edith turned at last from Miggie to the
contemplation of the father; the Mr. Bernard whom she was not
greatly disposed to like.
He was a portly, handsome man, but his face showed traces of early
debauchery and later dissipation. Still, Edith was far more
interested in him than in the portrait of Nina's mother, the
light-haired, blue-eyed woman, so much like the daughter that the
one could easily be recognized from it a resemblance to the other.
"Where is the second Mrs. Bernard's picture?" she asked, and
Arthur answered, "It was never taken, but Phillis declares YOU are
like her, and this accounts for Nina's pertinacity in calling you
Miggie.
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