"Miss Thornton, this is cruel—"
"Ah! poor Edith! what you required to be told is far more cruel. Oh,
Edith! pray Heaven for fortitude?"
"I have fortitude for anything but suspense. Oh, Heaven, Miss Thornton, relieve this suspense, or I shall suffocate!"
"Edith! Edith!" said the lady, going up and putting her arms around the
fragile form of the young widow, as to shield and support her. "Oh,
Edith! I heard a report this morning—and it may be but a report—I pray
Heaven, that it is no more—"
"Oh, go on! what was it?"
"That, that last evening on the beach during the storm, Marian
Mayfield—" Miss Thornton's voice choked.
"Oh, speak; for mercy speak! What of Marian?"
"That Marian Mayfield had been waylaid, and—"
"Murdered! Oh, God!" cried Edith, as her over-strained nerves relaxed, and she sank in the arms of Miss Thornton.
A child's wild, frenzied shriek resounded through the house. It was the voice of Miriam.