They were seated together upon a sofa.
"Dearest mother," Edward said, dropping upon his knees by her side and clasping her in his arms, "how can I ever thank you enough for your kindness this day to me and my darling! I fear I must seem to you and grandpa an ungrateful wretch; but when you know all, you will not, I trust, blame me quite so severely." "We are not blaming you, my dear boy, we are waiting to hear first what you have to say for yourself," Elsie answered, laying her hand fondly upon his head.

"Sit here by my side while you tell it," she added, making room for him on the sofa.
He made his story brief, yet kept nothing back.
His hearers were deeply moved as he repeated what Mr.Love had told him of the lonely and forlorn condition in which he must leave his petted only child, and went on to describe the hasty marriage and the death scene, so immediately following.

Their kind hearts yearned over the little orphaned bride, and they exonerated Edward from all blame for the part he acted in the short, sad drama.
"Cherish her tenderly, my dear boy," his mother said, with tears in her soft eyes, "you are all, everything to her, and must never let her want for love or tenderest care." "Mother," he answered in moved tones, "I shall try to be to my little wife just the husband my father was to you." "That is all any one could ask, my son," she returned, the tears coursing down her cheeks.
"Do not expect too much of her, Edward," Mr.Dinsmore said.

"She is a mere child, a petted and spoiled one, I presume, from what you have told us, and if she should prove wayward and at times unreasonable, be very patient and forbearing with her." "I trust I shall, grandpa," he answered.

"I cannot expect her to be quite the woman she would have made under my mother's training; but she is young enough to profit by mamma's sweet teachings and example even yet.