"There, that will do. Now, Arthur, lead me to my room, and sit
with me until this horrid giddiness is gone, and my heart beats
more naturally."
He put Edith from his lap--passed his hand slowly over her face as
if thus he would remember it, and then, leaning heavily on
Arthur's arm, tottered from the room--the noble Richard who had
made this mighty sacrifice.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE BRIDAL.
The week went by as all weeks will, whether laden with happiness
or pain, and the rosy light of the 15th morning broke over the New
England hills and over Collingwood, where the servants, headed by
Grace Atherton, were all astir, and busy with their preparations
for the festive scene of the coming night. Edith had made
strenuous efforts to have the party given up, sending message
after message to Richard, who, without any good reason for it, was
determined upon this one point, and always answered "No."
He had adhered to his resolution of staying in his room, and Edith
had not seen him since the eventful day when he had made the great
sacrifice.
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