But, Miggie he's been so good to me so like my mother.
He's held me in his arms a heap of nights when the fire was in my
brain; and once, Miggie, he held me so long, and I tore so
awfully, that he fainted, and Dr. Griswold cried, and said, 'Poor
Arthur; poor boy!' That's when _I_ BIT HIM!--bit Arthur, Miggie,
right on his arm, because he wouldn't let me pull his hair. Dr.
Griswold shook me mighty hard, but Arthur never said a word. He
only looked at me so sorry, so grieved like, that I came out of my
tantrum, and kissed the place. I've kissed it ever so many times
since then, and Arthur knows I'm sorry. I ain't a fit wife for
him. I don't blame him for wanting you. I can't see the WRONG, but
it's because I'm so thick-headed, I suppose! I wish I wasn't!" And
fixing her gaze upon the window opposite, Nina seemed to be living
over the past, and trying to arrange the events of her life in
some clear, tangible form.
Gradually as she talked Edith had softened toward Arthur--poor
Arthur, who had borne so much. She might, perhaps, forgive him,
but to FORGET was impossible.
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