The Sacrifice

For a few days Edith hoped that the fire might defer her marriage
a little longer but almost the first thing which Richard addressed
directly to her was, "Let the preparations go on as usual; there
need be no delay."

So the dressmakers were recalled and bridal finery tossed about
until the whole was finished and the last sewing woman departed,
taking with her, as her predecessors had done, a large budget of
items touching the cool indifference of the bride elect and the
icy reserve of the bridegroom, who was greatly changed, they said.
It is true he was kind and considerate, as of old, and his voice,
whenever he spoke to Edith, was plaintively sad and touching, but
he preferred to be much alone, spending his time in his chamber,
into which few save his valet was admitted. And thus no one
suspected the mighty conflict he was waging with himself, one
moment crying out, "I cannot give her up," and again moaning
piteously, "I must, I must."

The first meeting between himself and Arthur after the fire had
been a most affecting one, Richard sobbing like a child, kissing
the hands wounded so cruelly for him, and whispering amid his
sobs, "You saved my life at the peril of your own, and I shall
never forget it. God help me to do right."

Many times after this he rode down to Brier Hill whither Edith had
frequently preceded him; but Richard never uttered a word of
reproach when near the window he heard a rustling sound and knew
who was sitting there. Neither would he ask a single question when
soft footsteps glided past him and out into the hall, but he
always heard them until they died away, and he knew those little
feet were treading the verge of the grave he had dug within his
heart. It was not yet filled up--that grave--but his mighty love
for Edith may coffined there, and he only waited for the needful
strength to bury it forever by verbally giving her up.