She's young yet, too young to be a
wife. Will you tell her?"
"I can't, I can't," and Arthur shook his head despairingly. "I have
hidden the secret too long to tell it now. It might have been easy
at first, but now--it's too late. Oh, Griswold, you do not
understand what I suffer, for you never knew what it was to love
as I love Edith Hastings." For a moment Dr. Griswold looked at him
in silence. He knew how fierce a storm had gathered round him, and
how bravely he had met it. He knew, too, how impetuous and ardent
was his disposition, how much one of his temperament must love
Edith Hastings, and he longed to speak to him a word of comfort.
Smoothing the brown hair of the bowed head, and sighing to see how
many threads of silver were woven in it, he said,
"I pity you so much, and can feel for you more than you suspect.
You say I know not what it is to love. Oh, Arthur, Arthur. You
little guessed what it cost me, years ago, to give up NINA
BERNARD. It almost broke my heart, and the wound is bleeding yet!
Could the past be undone; could we stand where we did that night
which both remember so well, I would hold you back; and Nina,
crazy as she is, should this moment be mine--mine to love, to
cherish, to care for and weep over when she is dead.
Pages:
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265