What Victor designed he was pretty sure
to accomplish, and when, by the voices in the lower hall, he knew
that Edith was coming, he stole on tip-toe to the balustrade, and,
leaning over, saw the parting at the parlor door, feeling
intuitively that Edith's relations to Richard had changed since he
last looked upon her. Never was servant more attached to his
master than was Victor Dupres to his, and yet he was strongly
unwilling that Edith's glorious beauty should be wasted thus.
"If she loved him," he said to himself, as, gliding back to his
room, he cautiously shut the door, ere Edith reached the first
landing. "If she loved him, I would not care. More unsuitable
matches than this have ended happily--but she don't. Her whole
life is bound with that of another, and she shrinks from Mr.
Harrington as she was not wont to do. I saw it in her face, as she
turned away from him. There'll be another grave in the Collingwood
grounds--another name on the tall monument, 'Edith, wife of
Richard Harrington, aged 20.'"
Victor wrote the words upon a slip of paper, reading them over
until tears dimmed his vision, for, in fancy, the imaginative
Frenchman assisted at Edith's obsequies, and even heard the
grinding of the hearse wheels, once foretold by Nina.
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