“Are you sure—quite sure? For Frederick hinted once that Cinthia wished them to marry. And she is so charming—perhaps he loves her, Arthur?” jealously.
“No, mother, they are nothing but friends. Her heart is in the grave. Come, let me tell you her sad, touching story.”
He drew her to a seat, and went over the sad details Madame Ray had given him in Florida, drawing bright tears from his mother’s eyes.
Then some one knocked on the door. It was Doctor Deane.
“I have been with my patient, Mr. Dawn,” he said, “and the coming of his daughter has greatly excited him, causing an improvement for the time, though how long it may last I can not say. It seems as if there is something on his mind that he wishes to communicate before he dies, and he begs you and your son to join him at once with the others.”
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
HER SIDE OF THE STORY.
Everard Dawn’s haggard eyes marked the entrance of the doctor and the Varians, and he said feebly:
“Are you all here, Cinthia, Arthur, his mother, my sister, and my kind friend, Madame Ray?”
“They are all here,” Doctor Deane replied; and Everard Dawn continued:
“I should like Mr. Foster to be present, too—and Mrs. Varian’s maid. She may need her ministrations in a trying scene. You, too, doctor, I would like to have stay if you can bear the disclosure of family secrets.”