Nina was very white, and the swollen veins stood out full upon her forehead as she lay panting on her pillow, but the eyes never for an instant left Edith’s, as she replied, “Arthur was in fault, Miggie, greatly in fault, but there was much to excuse his error.  He was so young; not as old as you, Miggie, and Sarah Warren urged us on.  I knew afterward why she did it, too.  She is dead now, and I would not speak against her were it not necessary, but, Miggie, she wanted Dr. Griswold, and she fancied he liked me, so she would remove me from her path; and she did.  She worked upon my love of the romantic, and Arthur’s impulsive nature, until she persuaded us to run away.  While we were on the road, Arthur whispered to me, ‘Let’s go back,’ but I said, ‘No,’ while Sarah, who overheard him, sneered at him as cowardly, and we went on.  Then father took me off to Paris, and I dared not tell him, he was so dreadful when he was angry; and then I loved Charlie Hudson, and loved him the more because I knew I musn’t.”

The mature expression was passing rapidly from Nina’s face, and the child-like one returning in its stead as she continued,

“I couldn’t bear to think of Arthur, and before I came home I determined never to live with him as his wife.  I didn’t know then about this buzzing in my head, and the first thing I did when alone with him at the Revere House was to go down on my knees and beg of him not to make me keep my vow.  I told him I loved Charlie best, and he talked so good to me—­said maybe I’d get over it, and all that.  Then he read pa’s letter, which told what I would some time be, and he didn’t ask me after that to live with him, but when he came from Florida and found me so dreadful, he put his arms around me, loving-like, and cried, while I raved like a fury and snapped at him like a dog.  You see the buzzing was like a great noisy factory then, and Nina didn’t know what she was doing, she hated him so, and the more he tried to please her the more she hated him.  Then, when I came to my senses enough to think I did not want our marriage known, I made him promise not to tell, in Florida or anywhere, so he didn’t, and the weary years wore on with people thinking I was his ward.  Dr. Griswold was always kind and good, but not quite as patient and woman-like as Arthur.  It seemed as if he had a different feeling toward me, and required more of me, for he was not as gentle when I tore as Arthur was.  I was terribly afraid of him, though, and after a while he did me good.  The buzzing wasn’t bigger than a mill-wheel, and it creaked just as a big wheel does when there is no water to carry it.  It was crying that I wanted.  I had not wept in three years, but the sight of you touched a spring somewhere and the waters poured like a flood, turning the wheel without that grating noise that used to drive me mad, and after that I never tore but once.  He didn’t tell you, because I asked him not, but I scratched him, struck Phillis, burned up his best coat, broke the