I've
loved you too much. I've lost too much. I'm growing old--and--oh,
Birdie, Birdie, I'M BLIND! I'M BLIND!"
She did not rightly interpret his suffering FOR HER SAKE. She
thought he meant his present pain, and she sought to soothe him as
best she could without raising hopes which never could be
realized. He understood her at last; knew the heart he offered her
was cast back upon him, and rising from his kneeling posture, he
felt his way back to his chair, and burying his head upon a table
standing near, sobbed as Edith had never heard man sob before, not
even Arthur St. Claire, when in the Deering Woods he had rocked to
and fro in his great agony. Sobs they were which seemed to rend
his broad chest asunder, and Edith stopped her ears to shut out
the dreadful sound.
But hark, what is it he is saying? Edith fain would know, and
listening intently, she hears him unconsciously whispering to
himself; "OH, EDITH, WAS IT FOR THIS THAT _I_ SAVED YOU FROM THE
RHINE, PERILING MY LIFE AND LOSING MY EYESIGHT? BETTER THAT YOU
HAD DIED IN THE DEEP WATERS THAN THAT _I_ SHOULD MEET THIS HOUR OF
ANGUISH.
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