Chapter Six.
Guest thinks the Worst.
“Myra! My own darling!” sobbed Edie.
“Hush! No, I must talk. If I think in silence I shall go mad.”
“O Myra, Myra, are you never to be really married after all?”
The bride made a hurried motion with her hands, then pressed them to her temples and thrust back her hair.
“It makes me think of two years ago, dear,” whispered Edie, “and all the horrors of that day.”
“Yes; is it fate?” said Myra hoarsely as she sat gazing at vacancy.
“But I’ll never believe that Malcolm Stratton could do wrong,” whispered Edie, caressing and trying to soothe the sufferer as she clung to her side. “It couldn’t have been that this time, or else Percy would not be such friends.”