"Because it would be wrong," was Arthur's answer, and then Nina turned to Edith, "Why won't you, Miggie?"
"Because I have solemnly promised that I would not," was her reply.
And Nina rejoined, "Then I shall write. He loved little Snow Drop. He'll heed what she says when she speaks from the grave. I'll send him a letter."
"Who'll take it or read it to him if you do?" Arthur asked, and the troubled eyes of blue turned anxiously to Edith.
"Miggie, sister, won't you?"
Edith shook her head, not very decidedly, it is true, still it was a negative shake, and Nina said, "Arthur boy, will you?"
"No, Nina, no."
Hia answer was determined, and poor, discouraged Nina sobbed aloud, "Who will, who will?"
In the adjoining room there was a rustling sound—a coming footstep, and Victor Dupres appeared in the door. He had been an unwilling hearer of that conversation, and when Nina cried "who will?" he started up, and coming into the room as if by accident, advanced to the bedside and asked in his accustomed friendly way, "How is Nina to-night?" Then bending over her so that no one should hear, he whispered softly, "Don't tell them, but I'll read that letter to Richard!"
Nina understood him and held his hand a moment while she looked the thanks she dared not speak.