"
Marian had now settled her comfortably back in the resting chair, and
stood by her side, not near enough to incommode her in the least.
"I do not understand all this. She says that her husband is dead, poor
child--how came it about? Tell me!" said Mrs. Waugh, in a low voice.
Marian's clear blue eyes filled with tears, but she dropped their white
lids and long black lashes over them, and would not let them fall; and
her ripe lips quivered, but she firmly compressed them, and remained
silent for a moment. Then she said, in a whisper:
"I will tell you by and by," and she glanced at Edith, to intimate that
the story must not be rehearsed in her presence, however insensible she
might appear to be.
"You are the young lady who wrote to me?"
"Yes, madam."
"You are a friend of my poor girl's?"
"Something more than that, madam--I will tell you by and by," said
Marian, and her kind, dear eyes were again turned upon Edith, and
observing the latter slightly move, she said, in her pleasant voice:
"Edith, dear, shall I put you to bed--are you able to walk?"
"Yes, yes," murmured the sufferer, turning her head uneasily from side
to side.
Marian gave her hand, and assisted the poor girl to rise, and tenderly
supported her as she walked to the bedroom.
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