Slowly the evening wore on, and one by one the family retired, leaving Arthur and Edith alone with the pale sleeper whose slumbers ended not until near the midnight hour; silently, sadly, Arthur and Edith watched her, she on one side, he upon the other, neither speaking for the sorrow which lay so heavy at their hearts, She was very beautiful as she lay there so motionless, and Arthur felt his heart clinging more and more to his fair, childish wife, while his conscience smote him cruelly for any wrong he might have done to her.  She was going from him now so fast, and as the clock struck twelve the soft blue eyes unclosed and smiled up in his face with an expression which, better than words could do, told that she bore no malice toward him, nothing but trusting faith and confiding love.  He had been kind to her, most kind, and she told him so again, for she seemed to know how dear to him such testimonial would be when she was gone.

“The clouds are weeping for Nina,” she said, as she heard the rain still beating against the window.  “Will it make the river deeper, think?  I hear its roar in the distance.  It’s just beginning to heave in sight, and I dread it so much.  ’Twill be lonesome crossing this dismal, rainy night.  Oh, Arthur—­boy, Arthur—­boy, let me stay with you.  Can’t you keep me?  Can’t you hide me somewhere? you, Miggie?  I won’t be in the way.  It’s so icy, and the river is so deep.  Save me, do!” and she stretched out her hands to Arthur as if imploring him to hold her back from the rushing stream bearing down so fast upon her.

Forcing down his own great grief, Arthur took her in his arms and hugging her fondly to him, sought to comfort her by whispering of the blessed Saviour who would carry her in His bosom beyond the swelling flood, and Nina, as she listened, grew calm and still, while something like the glory of the better land shone upon her face as she repeated after him, “There’ll be no night, no darkness there, no headache, no pain,—­nor buzzing either?” she suddenly asked.  “Say, will there be any buzzing brains in Heaven?”

Arthur shook his head, and she continued, “That will be so nice, and Dr. Griswold will be so glad when he knows Nina is not crazy.  He’s gone before, I reckon, to take care of me,—­gone where there’s nothing but daylight, glorious, grand; kiss me again, Arthur boy.  ’Tis sweet to die upon your bosom with Miggie standing near, and when you both are happy in each other’s love, don’t quite forget little Nina,—­Nina out under the flowers, will you?  She’s done a heap of naughtiness, I know; but she’s sorry, Arthur, she is so sorry that she ever bit your arm or tore your hair!  Poor hair!  Pretty brown hair!  Bad Nina made the white threads come,” and her childish hands caressed the thick brown locks mingling with her sunny curls, as Arthur bent over her, answering only with his tears, which fell in torrents.

“Don’t, darling, don’t,” he said, at last.  “The bad has all been on my side, and I would that you should once more say I am forgiven.”