"
The kisses Arthur craved were given, and need we say returned!
Alas, those kisses! How they burned on Edith's lips, making her so
happy--and how they blistered on Arthur's heart, making him doubt
the propriety of having given or received them. His was the braver
spirit now. He had buffeted the billow with a mightier struggle
than Edith had ever known. Around his head a blacker, fiercer
storm had blown than any she had ever felt, and from out that
tumultuous sea of despair he had come a firmer, a better man, with
strength to bear the burden imposed upon him. Were it not so he
would never have sent for Edith Hastings--never have perilled his
soul by putting himself a second time under her daily influence.
But he felt that there was that within him which would make him
choose the right, make him cling to Nina, and so he wrote to
Edith, meeting her when she came as friend meets friend, and
continually thanking Heaven which enabled him to hide from
everyone the festered wound, which at the sound of her familiar
voice smarted and burned, and throbbed until his soul was sick and
faint with pain.
Pages:
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473