I fancied it would end in this. Where is she--the bride-
elect?"
Richard was stunned with such a volley of words from one whom he
supposed ignorant of the matter, and observing his evident
surprise Grace continued, "You wonder how I know, Victor told me
this morning; he was too much delighted to keep it to himself. But
say, where is Edith?"
"Here I am," and advancing from the parlor, where she had
overheard the whole, Edith laughed a gay, musical laugh, as hollow
and meaningless as Mrs. Atherton's forced levity.
Had she followed the bent of her inclinations she would not have
left her pillow that day, but remembering Victor's words, "Unless
I see it's killing you," she felt the necessity of exerting
herself, of wearing the semblance of happiness at least, and about
noon she had arisen and dressed herself with the utmost care,
twining geranium leaves in her hair just as she used to do when
going to see Arthur, and letting them droop from among her braids
in the way he had told her was so becoming. Then, with flushed
cheeks and bright, restless eyes, she went down to Richard,
receiving his caresses and partially returning them when she
fancied Victor was where he could see her,
"Women are queer," he said again to himself, as he saw Edith on
Richard's knee, with her arm around his neck.
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