"
"I think I'd try to live then," Arthur said, laughingly, while
Edith hailed the appearance of Marie as something which would put
a restraint upon Nina.
It had been arranged that Edith should take Arthur's place in the
sick room that night, but Nina suddenly changed her mind,
insisting that Arthur should sleep there as usual.
"There's a heap of things I must tell you," she whispered to him;
"and my head is clearer when it's darker and the candles are on
the stand."
So Edith retired to her own room, and after a time Arthur was
alone with Nina. He was very tired, but at her request he sat down
beside her, where she could look into his face and see, as she
said, if he answered her for true. At first it was of herself she
spoke--herself, as she used to be.
"I remember so well," she said "when you called me your Florida
rose, and asked for one of my curls. That was long ago, and there
have been years of darkness since, but the clouds are breaking
now--daylight is coming up, or rather Nina is going out, into the
daylight, where there is no more buzzing, no more headache.
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