All this passed through her mind, but not a word of it
escaped her lips, lest by doing so she would betray her real
feelings. Arthur did not seem to her now as he had done a few days
previous; their relations to each other had changed, and were
there no Richard, it would not be wicked to love him now. Nina was
gone; the past was more than atoned for; the marble, at first
unsightly to some degree, had been hewn and polished, and though
the blows had each struck deep, they wrought in Arthur St. Claire
a perfect work. Ennobled, subdued, and purified, he was every way
desirable, both as brother, friend, and husband, but he was not
for her, and the consciousness that it was so, palsied her powers
of speech.
Wishing to say something to break the awkward silence, Arthur
asked at last, if it were true, as Victor had said, that she
intended starting for Collingwood the day after to-morrow, and
then she burst into tears, but made him no reply, only passionate
sobs which smote cruelly upon his heart, for well he guessed their
meaning.
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