The discovery of Edith's parentage filled him with joy--joy for
Nina, and joy because an opportunity was thus afforded him of
doing an act unselfish to the last degree, for never for a single
moment did the thought force itself upon him that possibly Edith
might yet be his, and so the property come back to him again. He
had given her up, surrendered her entirely, and Richard's
interests were as safe with him as his gold and silver could have
been. Much he wished he knew exactly the nature of her feelings
toward her betrothed, but he would not so much as question Victor,
who, while noticing his calmness and self-possession, marvelled
greatly, wondering the while if it were possible that Arthur's
love were really all bestowed on Nina. It would seem so, from the
constancy with which he hung over her pillow, doing for her the
thousand tender offices, which none but a devoted husband could
do, never complaining, never tiring even when she taxed his good
nature to its utmost limit, growing sometimes so unreasonable and
peevish that even Edith wondered at his forbearance.
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