Harrington?"
She knew he didn't, but her heart was so sore on the subject of
Arthur's absence that she longed to be reassured in some way, and
so said what she did.
"No, Edith, it is not Mr. Harrington, I mean," and Dr. Griswold's
bright eyes fastened themselves upon the trembling girl as if to
read her inmost soul, and see how far her feelings were enlisted.
"It's Arthur," said Nina, nodding knowingly at both.
"Arthur," Edith repeated bitterly. "Fine proof he gives of his
love. Going from home for an indefinite length of time without one
word for me. He hates me, I know," and bursting into tears she
buried her face in the lap of Nina, who sat upon the bed.
"Poor Edith!" and another hand than Nina's smoothed her bands of
shining hair. "By this one act you have confessed that Arthur's
love is not unrequited. I hoped it might be otherwise. God help
you, Edith. God help you."
He spoke earnestly, and a thrill of fear ran through Edith's
veins. Lifting up her head, she said,
"You talk as if it were a certainty that Arthur St.
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