It's never been quite right since. Is this the letter
that made Miggie cry?"
"No," returned Arthur. "This is your father's will, made when he
thought there was no Miggie. In it, I am, his heir after you, and
Miggie hasn't a cent."
"You may have mine, Miggie. Nina'll give you hers, she will," and
the little maiden made a movement toward Edith, while Arthur
continued,
"Yon can't, darling. It's mine after you;" and this he said, not
to inflict fresh pain on Edith, but to try Nina, and hear what she
would say.
There was a perplexed, troubled look in her eyes, and then,
drawing his head close to her, she whispered,
"Couldn't you scratch it out, just as Richard did, only he didn't.
That's a good boy. He will, Miggie," and she nodded toward Edith,
while Arthur rejoined,
"Would it please my child-wife very much to have me scratch it
out?"
He had never called her thus before Edith until now, and he stole
a glance at her to witness the effect. For an instant she was
white as marble; then the hot blood seemed bursting from the small
round spot where it had settled in her cheeks, and involuntarily
she extended her hand toward him in token of her approval.
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