Darkness and Daylight by Mary J. Holmes (books to read to be successful TXT) 📕

It was an odd-looking missive which he sent back and Edith’s heart ached to its very core as she saw the uneven handwriting, which went up and down, the lines running into and over each other, now diagonally, now at right angles, and again darting off in an opposite direction as he held his pencil a moment in his fingers and then began again. Still she managed to decipher it, and did not lose a single word of the message intended for Nina.

“Tell little Snowdrop the blind man sends her his blessing and his love, thinking of her often as he sits here alone these gloomy autumn nights, no Edith, no Nina, nothing but lonesome darkness. Tell her that he prays she may get well again, or if she does not, that she may be one of the bright angels which make the fields of Jordan so beautiful and fair”

This letter Edith took to Nina one day, when Arthur and Victor had gone to Tallahassee, and Mrs. Lamotte was too busy with her own matters to interrupt them. Nina had not heard of the engagement, for Arthur could not tell her, and Edith shrank from the task as from something disagreeable. Still she had a strong desire for Nina to know how irrevocably she was bound to another, hoping thus to prevent the unpleasant allusions frequently made to herself and Arthur. The excitement of finding a sister in Miggie, had in a measure overturned Nina’s reason again, and for many days after the disclosure she was more than usually wild, talking at random of the most absurd things, but never for a moment losing sight of the fact that Edith was her sister. This seemed to be the one single clear point from which her confused ideas radiated, and the love she bore her sister was strong enough to clear away the tangled web of thought and bring her at last to a calmer, more natural state of mind. There were hours in which no one would suspect her of insanity, save that as she talked childish, and even meaningless expressions were mingled with what she said, showing that the woof of her intellect was defective still, and in such a condition as this Edith found her that day when, with Richard’s letter in her hand, she seated herself upon the foot of the bed and said, “I heard from Richard last night. You remember him, darling?”

“Yes, he made me Arthur’s wife; but I wish he hadn’t for then you would not look so white and sorry.”

“Never mind that,” returned Edith, “but listen to the message he sent his little Snowdrop,” and she read what Richard had written to Nina.

“I wish I could be one of those bright angels,” Nina said, mournfully, when Edith finished reading; “but, Miggie, Nina’s so bad. I can think about it this morning, for the buzzing in my head is very faint, and I don’t get things much twisted, I reckon. I’ve been bad to Arthur a heap of times, and he was never anything but kind to me. I never saw a frown on his face or heard an impatient word, only that sorry look, and that voice so sad.”

“Don’t, Nina, don’t.

“Even Dr. Griswold was not patient as Arthur. He was quicker like, and his face would grow so red. He used to shake me hard, and once he raised his hand, but Arthur caught it quick and said ‘No, Griswold, not that—not strike Nina,’ and I was tearing Arthur’s hair out by handfuls, too. That’s when I bit him. I told you once.”

“Yes, I know,” Edith replied; “but I wish to talk of something besides Arthur, now. Are you sure you can understand me?”

“Yes, it only buzzed like a honey-bee, right in here,” and Nina touched the top of her head, while Edith continued.

“Did Arthur ever tell you who it was that fell into the Rhine?”

“Yes, Mrs. Atherton wrote, and I cried so hard, but he did not say your name was Eloise, or I should have guessed you were Miggie, crazy as I am.”

“Possibly Grace did not so write to him,” returned Edith; “but let me tell you of Edith Hastings as she used to be when a child;” and with the blue eyes of Nina fixed upon her, Edith narrated that portion of her history already known to the reader, dwelling long upon Richard’s goodness, and thus seeking to prepare her sister for the last, the most important part of all.

“After Arthur deceived me so,” she said,” I thought my heart would never cease to ache, and it never has.”

“But it will—it will,” cried Nina, raising herself in bed. “When I’m gone, it will all come right. I pray so every day, though it’s hard to do it sometimes now I know you are my sister. It would be so nice to live with you and Arthur, and I love you so much. You can’t begin to know,” and the impulsive girl fell forward on Edith’s bosom sobbing impetuously, “I love you so much, so much, that it makes it harder to die; but I must, and when the little snow-birds come back to the rose bushes beneath the windows of Grassy Spring a great ways off, the hands that used to feed them with crumbs will be laid away where they’ll never tear Arthur boy’s hair any more. Oh, I wish they never had—I wish they never had,” and sob after sob shook Nina’s delicate frame as she gave vent to her sorrow for the trial she had been to Arthur. Edith attempted to comfort her by saying, “He has surely forgiven you, darling; and Nina, please don’t talk so much of dying, Arthur and I both hope you will live yet many years.”

“Yes, Arthur does,” Nina rejoined quickly, “him praying so one night when he thought I was asleep—I make believe half of the time, so as to hear what he says when he kneels down over in that corner; and once, Miggie, a great while ago, it was nothing but one dreadful groan, except when he said, ‘God help me in this my darkest hour, and give me strength to drink this cup.’ But there wasn’t any cup there for I peaked, thinking maybe he’d go some of my nasty medicine, and it wasn’t dark, either for there were two candles on the mantel and they shone on Arthur’s face, which looked to me as if it were a thousand years old. Then he whispered, ‘Edith, Edith,’ and the sound was so like a wail that I felt my blood growing cold. Didn’t you hear him, Miggie, way off to the north; didn’t you hear him call? God did, and helped him, I reckon, for he got up and came and bent over me, kissing me so much, and whispering, ‘My wife, my Nina.’ It was sweet to be so kissed, and I fell away to sleep; but Arthur must have knelt beside me the livelong night, for every time I moved I felt his hand clasp mine. The next day he told me that Richard saved you from the river, and his lips quivered as if he feared you were really lost.”

Alas! Nina had come nearer the truth than she supposed, and Edith involuntarily echoed her oft-repeated words, “Poor Arthur,” for she knew now what had preceded that cry of more than mortal anguish which Arthur sent to Grace after hearing first of the engagement.

“Nina” she said, after a moment’s silence, “before that time of which you speak, there came a night of grief to me—a night when I wished that I might die, because Richard asked me to be his wife— me, who looked upon him as my father rather than a husband. I can’t tell you what he said to me, but it was very touching, very sad, and my heart ached so much for the poor blind man.”

“But you didn’t tell him yes,” interrupted Nina. “You couldn’t. You didn’t love him. It’s wicked to act a lie Miggie—as wicked as ‘tis to tell one. Say you told him no; it chokes me just to think of it.”

“Nina,” and Edith’s voice was low and earnest in its tone, “I thought about it four whole weeks and at last I went to Richard and said, ‘I will be your wife.’ I have never taken it back, I am engaged to him, and I shall keep my word. Were it not that you sent for me I should have been his bride ere this. I shall be his bride on New Year’s night.”

Edith spoke rapidly, as if anxious to have the task completed, and when at last it was done, she felt that her strength was leaving her, so great had been the effort with which she told her story to Nina. Gradually as she talked Nina had crept away from her, and sitting upright in bed, stared at her fixedly, her face for once putting on the mature dignity of her years, and seeming older than Edith’s. Then the clear-minded, rational Nina spoke out, “Miggie Bernard, were you ten thousand times engaged to Richard, it shall not be. You must not stain your soul with a perjured vow, and you would, were this sacrifice to be. Your lips would say ‘I love,’ but your heart would belie the words, and God’s curse will rest upon you if you do Richard this cruel wrong. He does not deserve that you should deal so treacherously with him, and Miggie, I would far rather you were lying in the graveyard over yonder, than to do this great wickedness. You must not, you shall not,” and in the eyes of violet blue there was an expression beneath which the stronger eyes of black quailed as they had done once before, when delirium had set its mark upon them.

It was in vain that Edith persisted in saying she did, or at least should love Richard as he deserved. Nina was not to be convinced, and at last, in self-defence, Edith broke out bitterly against Arthur as the immediate cause of her sufferings. Had he not been faithless to his marriage vow, and might she not keep hers quite as well as he kept his.

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,