"Yes," answered Edith in low, eager voice. "How could you accept such a noble heart and give so little in return?"
"You are mistaken. George is giving me no more than what I am giving to him. Suppose his heart is buried in a lost affection, and I am really helping him, as he is helping me, to overcome a never forgotten agony of regret? He possesses almost the love of a father for Harold, and pleads the opportunity to care for him. Have I then done wrong?"
As she asked the question, she looked up at Edith, with a slight hesitancy.
Edith lay seemingly thoughtful with half-closed eyes. She was in reality trying to compose herself before replying.
"I think, under such circumstances you are doing right, especially by Harold," Edith at last replied, looking up, her eyes luminous with excitement. "Such a friend will be a perfect husband, Alma!" she exclaimed earnestly.
"Such a friend will be a perfect friend always, Edith," Alma returned firmly. "None shall ever take my dear Will's place. Walter understands that and is satisfied. You will think me a strange woman," she added.
"No, I think that I understand. You will always give the best that you can to George—I am sure of that."
"Yes. His goodness and his sorrow will always make me generous with him. He did not confide the name of his lost love, or the time of his loss, but whether it was ten years ago or one, he certainly suffers still!"
Again Edith's struggle for self-control left her weaker than ever.
Alma suddenly noticed her pallor.