"Edith, in my early manhood I loved a young girl, and I thought my
affection returned, but a wealthier, older man came between us,
and she chose his riches in preference to walking in my shadow,
for such she termed my father."
"But she's repented, Mr. Harrington--she surely has," and Edith
dropped her work in her earnestness to defend Grace Atherton. "She
is sorry for what she made you suffer; she has loved you through
all, and would be yours now if you wish it, I am sure. You DO wish
it, Richard. You will forgive Grace Atherton," and in her
excitement Edith knelt before him, pleading for her friend.
Even before he answered her she knew she pleaded in vain, but she
was not prepared for what followed the silence Richard was first
to break.
"Grace Atherton can never be to me more than what she is, a tried,
respected friend. My boyish passion perished long ago, and into my
later life another love has crept, compared with which my first
was as the darkness to the full noonday. I did not think to talk
of this to-night, but something compels me to do so--tells me the
time has come, and Edith, you must hear me before you speak, but
sit here where I can touch you, and when I'm through if what I've
said meets with a responsive chord, lay your hand in mine, and I
shall know the nature of your answer.
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