How
could she be afraid of the gentle creature, who, in her snowy
night dress, with her golden hair falling about her face and neck,
looked like some beautiful angel flitting about the room,
pretending to arrange this and that, casting half bashful glances
at Edith, who was longer in disrobing and at last, as if summoning
all her courage for the act, stepping behind the thin lace window
curtains, which she drew around her, saying softly, "don't look at
me, Miggie, will you, 'cause I'm going to pray."
Instantly the brush which Edith held was stayed amid her raven
hair, and the hot tears rained over her face as she listened to
that prayer, that God would keep Nina from TEARING any more, and
not let Arthur cry, but make it all come right some time with him
and Miggie, too. Then followed that simple petition, "now I lay me
down to sleep," learned at the mother's knee by so many thousand
children whose graves like hillocks in the church-yard lie, and
when she arose and came from behind the gauzy screen where she
fancied she had been hidden from view, Edith was not wrong in
thinking that something like the glory of Heaven shone upon her
pure white brow.
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