he lips of the lovely sufferer, and her face was
again averted from the glance of her visiter. The latter passed her arm
under her neck, and, sitting on the bedside, drew Lucy's head to her
bosom.

"Yes, Lucy, the woman has keener instincts than the man, and feels even
where he fails to see. Do not wonder, therefore, that Edith Colleton
knows more than her lover ever dreamed of. And now I come to entreat you
to love _me_ for _his_ sake. You shall be my sister, Lucy, and in time
you may come to love me for my own sake. My pleasant labor, Lucy, shall
be to win your love--to force you to love me, whether you will or no. We
can not alter things; can not change the courses of the stars; can not
force nature to our purposes in the stubborn heart or the wilful fancy:
and the wise method is to accommodate ourselves to the inevitable, and
see if we can not extract an odor from the breeze no matter whence it
blows. Now, I am an only child, Lucy. I have neither brother nor sister,
and want a friend, and need a companion, one whom I can love--"

"You will have--have--your husband."

"Yes, Lucy, and as a husband! But I am not content. I must have _you_,
also, Lucy."

"Oh, no, no! I can not--can not!"

"You _must_! I can not and will not go without you. Hear me. You have
mortified poor Ralph very much. He swore to your uncle, in his dying
moments--an awful moment--that you should be his sister--that you should
enjoy his protection. His own desires--mine--my father's--all concur to
make us resolute that Ralph shall keep his oath! And he must! and you
must consent to an arrangement upon which we have set our hearts."

"To live with _him_--to see _him_ daily!" murmured the suffering girl.

"Ay, Lucy," answered the other boldly; "and to love him, and honor him,
and sympathize with him in his needs, as a true, devoted woman and
sister, so long as he shall prove worthy in your eyes and mine. I know
that I am asking of you, Lucy, what I would ask of no ordinary woman. If
I held you to be an ordinary woman, to whom we simply owe a debt of
gratitude, I should never dream to offer such an argument. But it is
because you _do_ love him, that I wish you to abide with us; your love
hallowed by its own fires, and purifying itself, as it will, by the
exercise of your mind upon it."

The cheeks of Lucy flushed suddenly, but she said nothing. Edith stooped
to her, and kissed her fondly; Then she spoke again, so tenderly, so
gently, with such