Alas, for poor human nature.  Why did Edith’s heart throb so painfully, as she thought of Nina cured, and taken to Arthur’s bosom as his wife.  She knew she could not be that wife, and only half an hour before she had said within herself, “I hate him.”  Now, however, she was conscious of a strong unwillingness to yield to another the love lost to her forever, and covering her head with the sheet, she wept to think how desolate her life would be when she knew that far away, in the land of flowers, Arthur was learning to forget her and bestowing his affection upon restored, rational Nina.

“Why do you cry?” asked Nina, whose quick ear detected the stifled sobs.  “Is it because we are going?  I told him you would, when he bade me come and ask if you would see him before he goes.”

“Did he—­did he send me that message?” and the Edith, who wouldn’t for the world meet Arthur St. Claire again, uncovered her face eagerly.  “Tell him to come to-morrow at ten o’clock.  I am the strongest then; and Nina, will you care if I ask you to stay away?  I’d rather see him alone.”

Edith’s voice faltered as she made this request, but Nina received it in perfect good faith, answering that she would remain at home.

“I must go now,” she added.  “He’s waiting for me, and I do so hope you’ll coax him to stay here.  I hate old Florida.”

Edith however felt that it was better for them both to part.  She had caught a glimpse of her own heart, and knew that its bleeding fibres still clung to him, and still would cling till time and absence had healed the wound.

“I will be very cold and indifferent to-morrow,” she said to herself, when after Nina’s departure, she lay, anticipating the dreaded meeting and working herself up to such a pitch of excitement that the physician declared her symptoms worse, asking who had been there, and saying no one must see her, save the family, for several days.

The doctor’s word was law at Collingwood, and with sinking spirits Edith heard Richard in the hall without, bidding Mrs. Matson keep every body from the sick room for a week.  Even Nina was not to be admitted, for it was clearly proved that her last visit had made Edith worse.  What should she do?  Arthur would be gone ere the week went by, and she must see him.  Suddenly Victor came into her mind.  She could trust him to manage it, and when that night, while Mrs. Matson was at her tea he came up as usual with wood, she said to him, “Victor, shut the door so no one can hear, and then come close to me.”

He obeyed, and standing by her bedside waited for her to speak.

“Victor, Mr. St. Claire is going to Florida in a day or two.  I’ve promised to see him to-morrow at ten o’clock, and Richard says no one can come in here, but I must bid Arthur good-bye and Nina, too.  Can’t you manage it, Victor?”

“Certainly,” returned Victor, who, better than any one else knew his own power over his master.  “You shall see Mr. St. Claire, and see him alone.”