"Mr. St. Claire must be expected, I am
going down to see."
Victor obeyed, and without a word to Richard, Edith was soon
galloping off toward Grassy Spring, where she found Grace
hurriedly giving orders to the delighted blacks, who tumbled over
each other in their zeal to have everything in readiness for
"Marster Arthur." He was coming that night, so Grace had told
them, she having received a telegram that morning from New York,
together with a letter.
"He started North the first of Feb." she said to Edith, "taking
Richmond on the way, and has been detained there ever since by
sickness. He is very feeble yet, but is anxious to see us all. He
has received no letters from me, it seems, and thinks you are
married."
Edith turned very white for a moment, and then there burned upon
her cheek a round, red spot, induced by the feeling that the
believing she was married had been the immediate cause of Arthur's
illness. Edith was no longer the pale, listless woman who moved so
like a breathing statue around Collingwood, but a flushed, excited
creature, flitting from room to room, and entering heart and soul
into Grace's plans for having everything about the house as
cheerful and homelike as possible for the invalid.
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