“My darling,” laying his face down upon her neck among her yellow curls, “I shall never call another by the dear name I call you now, my wife.”

“Oh, Arthur,” and Nina’s cheeks flushed with indignant surprise, that he, too, should prove refractory.  Everything indeed, was getting upside down.  “Why not?” she asked.  “Don’t you love Miggie?”

“Yes, very, very dearly! but it is too much to hope that she will ever be mine.  I do not deserve it.  You ask me my forgiveness, Nina.  Alas! alas!  I have tenfold more need of yours.  It did not matter that we both wearied of our marriage vows, made when we were children—­did not matter that you are crazy—­I had no right to love another.

“But you have paid for it all a thousand times!” interrupted Nina.  “You are a better Arthur than you were before, and Nina never could see the wrong in your preferring beautiful, sensible Miggie, to crazy, scratching, biting, teasing Nina, even if Richard had said over a few words, of which neither of us understood the meaning, or what it involved, this taking for better or worse.  It surely cannot be wrong to marry Miggie when I’m gone, and you will, Arthur, you will!”

“No, Nina, no!  I should be adding sin to sin did I seek to change her decision, and so wrong the noble Richard.  His is the first, best claim.  I will not interfere.  Miggie must keep her word uninfluenced by me.  I shall no raise my voice against it.”

“Oh, Arthur, Arthur!” Nina cried, clasping her hands together; “Miggie does not love him, and you surely know the misery of a marriage without love.  It must not be!  It shall no be! you can save Miggie, and you must!”

Every word was fainter than the preceding, and, when the last was uttered, Nina’s head dropped from Arthur’s shoulder to the pillow, and he saw a pinkish stream issuing from her lips.  A small blood vessel had been ruptured, and Arthur, who knew the danger, laid his hand upon her mouth as he saw her about to speak, bidding her be quiet if she would not die at once.

Death, however long and even anxiously expected is unwelcome at the last, and Nina shrank from its near approach, laying very still, while Arthur summoned aid.  Only once she spoke, and then she whispered, “Miggie,” thus intimating that she would have her called.  In much alarm Edith came, trembling when she saw the fearful change which had passed over Nina, whose blue eyes followed her movements intently, turning often from her to Arthur as If they fain would utter what was in her mind.  But not then was Nina St. Claire to die.  Many days and nights were yet appointed her, and Arthur and Edith watched her with the tenderest care; only these two, for so Nina would have it.  Holding their hands in hers she would gaze from one to the other with a wistful, pleading look, which, far better than words, told what she would say, were It permitted her to speak, but in the deep brown eyes of Arthur, she read always the same answer, while Edith’s would often fill with tears as she glanced timidly at the apparently cold, silent man, who, she verily believed, had ceased to love her.