Arthur, however, was admitted daily to his presence,
always coming from those interviews with a sad look upon his face,
as if his happiness were not unmixed with pain. And still Richard
tried to be cheerful, talking but little of Edith, and appearing
so calm when he did mention her, that a casual observer would have
said he did not care.
In the village nothing was talked about save the change of
bridegrooms and the approaching wedding, and when the morning
came, others than the inmates of Collingwood were busy and
excited.
It was a glorious day, for leafy June had donned her gala robes
for the occasion, and every heart, save one, beat with joy, as the
sun rose higher and higher in the heavens, nearer and nearer the
appointed hour. Richard could not be glad, and that bridal day was
the saddest he had ever known. Not even Arthur was permitted to be
with him, and none save Victor saw the white, still anguish
creeping over his face as hour after hour went by, and from the
sounds without he knew that they had come whose business it was to
array his Edith in her bridal robes of costly satin and fleecy
lace.
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