“Could I be assured that my bird would fly back to me again with its plumage all unruffled I would let her go,” he said, “but the chances are against it.  You would surely sicken and die, and I cannot let you go.”

Edith offered no remonstrance, but her face was very white and her eyes strangely black as she said, “Let us go home, then; go to-morrow.  This is no place for me, with Nina dying.”

Nothing could please Richard more than to be back at Collingwood, and when Grace came to them he announced his intention of leaving on the morrow.  Grace was willing, and Victor, when told of the decision, was wild with delight.  Mr. Russell, too, decided to go with them to Shannondale, and when, next morning, the party came out to take the downward stage, they found him comfortably seated on the top, whither he had but little trouble in coaxing Grace, who expressed a wish to enjoy the mountain scenery as they descended.

“Will Miss Hastings come up, too?” he asked, but Edith declined and took her seat inside between Richard and Victor, the latter of whom had heard nothing of the letter; neither did Edith tell him until the next day when, arrived at Collingwood, they were alone for a moment in the library—­then she explained to him that Nina was sick, possibly had sent for her.

“I thought things would work out after a time, though honestly I’d rather that little girl shouldn’t die if it could be brought round any other way,” was Victor’s reply, which called a flush at once to Edith’s cheek.

“Victor Dupres,” said she, “never hint such a thing again.  It is too late now; it cannot be—­it shall not be; and if I go, Arthur has promised not to say one word which can influence me.”

“If you go,” repeated Victor, “Then you have some intention of going—­I thought he had objected.”

“So he has,” returned Edith, the same look stealing into her eyes which came there at the Falls.  “So he has, but if Nina lives till the middle of October I shall go.  My mind is made up.”

“Oh, consistency, thou art a jewel,” muttered Victor, as hearing some one coming, he walked away.  “Means to jump down the lion’s throat, but does not expect to be swallowed!  Splendid logic that!” and Victor shrugged his shoulders at what seemed so contradictory as Edith’s talk and Edith’s conduct.

As she had said, Edith meant to go, nay more, was determined to go, and when, on the third day after their return, Mr. Russell came for her final decision, she said to him, ere Richard had time to speak,

“I shall not go now; it is too early for that, but if Nina continues worse, I will come to her the latter part of October.  I am writing so to her to-day.”

Richard was confounded, and could only stammer out,

“Who is to be your escort?”

“You, Richard;” and Edith clasped his arm, thus reassuring him at once.