Swiftly, silently, one by one, the days came and went until it was
weeks since Dr. Griswold died, and things at Grassy Spring assumed
their former routine. At first Nina was inclined to be melancholy,
talking much of the deceased, and appearing at times so depressed
that Arthur trembled, lest she should again become unmanageable,
wondering what he should do with her now the Dr. was gone.
Gradually, however, she recovered her usual health and spirits,
appearing outwardly the same; but not so with Arthur, whose
thoughts and feelings no one could fathom. It was as if he had
locked himself within a wall of ice, which nothing had power to
thaw. He saw but little of Edith now; the lessons had been tacitly
given up, and, after what she had heard from Dr. Griswold, she
could not come to Grassy Spring just as she used to do, so she
remained at home, marvelling at the change in Arthur, and
wondering if he really loved her, why he did not tell her so. Much
of what Dr. Griswold had said she imputed to delirium, and with
the certainty that she was beloved, she would not dwell upon
anything which made her unhappy, and she waited for the end, now
hastening on with rapid strides.
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