Edith hesitated, and was reluctant.
"I may be doing wrong," continued he, earnestly and with rising color. "I am not versed in the world's ways; but is it not my right to explain the rash words I uttered this morning? My good name is dear to me also. Few care for it, but I would not have it utterly blurred in your eyes. We may be strangers after you have read it, if you choose, but I entreat you to read it."
"You will not feel hurt if I afterward return it to you?" asked Edith, timidly.
"You may do with it what you please."
She then took the letter, and a moment later Mrs. Lacey appeared, and said:
"I will sit up to-morrow night, with your permission."
Edith took her hand, and replied, "Mrs. Lacey, you burden me with kindness."
"It is not my wish to burden, but to relieve you, Miss Allen. I think I can safely say, from our slight acquaintance, that in the case of sickness or trouble at a neighbor's, you would not spare yourself. We cease to be human when we leave the too heavily burdened to struggle alone."
Edith's eyes grew moist, and she said, simply, "I cannot refuse kindness offered in that spirit, and may God bless you for it. Good-night."
Arden's only parting was a grave, silent bow.