The Darkness Deepens

Death brooded over Collingwood, and his black wing beat
clamorously against the windows of the room to which, on that
fearful night, Richard had borne his fainting burden, and where
for days and weeks she lay so low that with every coming morning
the anxious villagers listened for the first stroke of the bell
which should tell that Edith was dead.

Various were the rumors concerning the cause of her illness, all agreeing upon one point,
to wit, that she had fainted suddenly in the woods with Nina, and
in falling, had received a deep gash upon her forehead. This it
was which made her crazy, the people said, and the physician
humored the belief, although with his experience he knew there was
some secret sorrow preying upon that young mind, the nature of
which he could not easily guess. It never occurred to him that it
was in any way associated with Arthur St. Claire, whose heart-
broken expression told how much he suffered, and how dear to him
was the delirious girl, who never breathed his name, or gave token
that she knew of his existence.

Every morning, regularly he rung
the Collingwood bell, which was always answered by Victor, between
whom and himself there was a tacit understanding, perceptible in
the fervent manner with which the faithful valet's hand was
pressed whenever the news was favorable. He did not venture into
her presence, though repeatedly urged to do so by Grace, who
mentally accused him of indifference toward Edith. Alas, she knew
not of the nightly vigils kept by the wretched man, when with dim
eye and throbbing head he humbled himself before his Maker,
praying to be forgiven for the sorrow he had wrought, and again
wrestling in agony for the young girl, whose sick room windows he
could see, watching the livelong night the flickering of the lamp,
and fancying he could tell from its position, if any great change
occurred in her.