Nina had accomplished her object, and she became unusually quiet.
Richard would get the letter--Richard would do right, she knew,
and the conviction brought to her a deep peace, which nothing ever
after disturbed. She did not speak of him again, and her last days
were thus pleasanter to Edith, who, from the sweet companionship
held with her gentle sister, learned in part what Nina Bernard
was, ere the darkness of which she had written to Richard crept
into her brain. Fair and beautiful as the white pond lily, she
faded rapidly, until Arthur carried her no longer to the window,
holding her in his arms while she looked out upon the yard and
garden where she used to play--but she lay all day upon her bed
holding Edith's hands, and talking to her of that past still so
dim and vague to the latter. Marie, too, often joined them,
repeating to Edith many incidents of interest connected with both
her parents, but speaking most of the queenly Petrea, whom Edith
so strongly resembled. Nina, too, remembered her well, and Edith
was never weary of hearing her tell of the "beautiful new mamma,"
who kissed her so tenderly that night when she first came home,
calling her la petite enfant, and placing in her arms a darling
little sister, with eyes just like the stars!
Very precious to Edith was the memory of those days, when she
watched the dying Nina, who, as death drew near, clung closer and
closer to her sister, refusing to let her go.
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