POOR MISS FINCH..........................................................................................................................................1

Wilkie Collins..........................................................................................................................................1 .................................................................................................................................................................3

CHAPTER THE SECOND. Madame Pratolungo makes a Voyage on Land.........................................5

CHAPTER THE THIRD. Poor Miss Finch .............................................................................................8

CHAPTER THE FOURTH. Twilight View of the Man ........................................................................11

CHAPTER THE FIFTH. Candlelight View of the Man ........................................................................15

CHAPTER THE SIXTH. A Cage of Finches ........................................................................................19

CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. Daylight View of the Man.....................................................................22

CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. The Perjury of the Clock ...........................................................................26

CHAPTER THE NINTH. The Hero of the Trial ...................................................................................30

CHAPTER THE TENTH. First Appearance of Jicks ............................................................................33

CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. Blind Love ...........................................................................................36

CHAPTER THE TWELFTH. Mr. Finch smells Money.......................................................................41

CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH. Second Appearance of Jicks...........................................................45

CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH. Discoveries at Browndown ............................................................47

CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH. Events at the Bedside ..........................................................................51

CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH. First Result of the Robbery ................................................................53

CHAPTER THE SEVENTEENTH. The Doctor's Opinion..................................................................57

CHAPTER THE EIGHTEENTH. Family Troubles ..............................................................................59

CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH. Second Result of the Robbery........................................................63

CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH. Good Papa again! ..............................................................................70

CHAPTER THE TWENTYFIRST. Madame Pratolungo Returns to Dimchurch..............................73

CHAPTER THE TWENTYSECOND. The TwinBrother's Letter...................................................76

CHAPTER THE TWENTYTHIRD. He sets us All Right ..................................................................80

CHAPTER THE TWENTYFOURTH. He sees Lucilla ......................................................................86

CHAPTER THE TWENTYFIFTH. Nugent puzzles Madame Pratolungo .........................................91

CHAPTER THE TWENTYSIXTH. He proves Equal to the Occasion..............................................96

CHAPTER THE TWENTYSEVENTH. He finds a Way out of it...................................................101

CHAPTER THE TWENTYEIGHTH. He crosses the Rubicon ........................................................107

CHAPTER THE TWENTYNINTH. Parliamentary Summary .........................................................115

CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH. Herr Grosse.......................................................................................117

CHAPTER THE THIRTYFIRST. "Who Shall Decide when Doctors disagree?" ............................123

CHAPTER THE THIRTYSECOND. Alas for the Marriage! ...........................................................128

CHAPTER THE THIRTYTHIRD. The Day Between.....................................................................136

CHAPTER THE THIRTYFOURTH. Nugent shows his Hand........................................................144

CHAPTER THE THIRTYFIFTH. Lucilla tries her Sight .................................................................150

CHAPTER THE THIRTYSIXTH. The Brothers Meet .....................................................................160

CHAPTER THE THIRTYSEVENTH. The Brothers change Places ................................................165

CHAPTER THE THIRTYEIGHTH. Is there no Excuse for Him? ...................................................173

CHAPTER THE THIRTYNINTH. She Learns to See.....................................................................184

CHAPTER THE FORTIETH. Traces of Nugent................................................................................190

CHAPTER THE FORTYFIRST. A Hard Time for Madame Pratolungo .........................................195

CHAPTER THE FORTYSECOND. The Story of Lucilla: told by Herself.....................................200

CHAPTER THE FORTYTHIRD. Lucilla's Journal, continued ........................................................204

CHAPTER THE FORTYFOURTH. Lucilla's Journal, continued ....................................................215

CHAPTER THE FORTYFIFTH. Lucilla's Journal, concluded........................................................225

CHAPTER THE FORTYSIXTH. The Italian Steamer .....................................................................235

CHAPTER THE FORTYSEVENTH. On the Way to the End. First Stage ......................................245

CHAPTER THE FORTYEIGHTH. On the Way to the End. Second Stage .....................................251

CHAPTER THE FORTYNINTH. On the Way to the End. Third Stage..........................................254

CHAPTER THE FIFTIETH. The End of the Journey .........................................................................261

WILL YOU honor me by accepting the Dedication of this book, in remembrance of an uninterrupted

More than one charming blind girl, in fiction and in the drama, has preceded "Poor Miss Finch." But, so far

as I know, blindness in these cases has been always exhibited, more or less exclusively, from the ideal and

the sentimental point of view. The attempt here made is to appeal to an interest of another kind, by exhibiting

blindness as it really is. I have carefully gathered the information necessary to the execution of this purpose

from competent authorities of all sorts. Whenever "Lucilla" acts or speaks in these pages, with reference to

her blindness, she is doing or saying what persons afflicted as she is have done or said before her. Of the

other features which I have added to produce and sustain interest in this central personage of my story, it does

not become me to speak. It is for my readers to say if "Lucilla" has found her way to their sympathies. In this

character, and more especially again in the characters of "Nugent Dubourg" and "Madame Pratolungo," I

have tried to present human nature in its inherent inconsistencies and selfcontradictionsin its intricate

mixture of good and evil, of great and smallas I see it in the world about me. But the faculty of observing

character is so rare, the curiously mistaken tendency to look for logical consistency in human motives and

human actions is so general, that I may possibly find the execution of this part of my task

misunderstoodsometimes even resentedin certain quarters. However, Time has stood my friend in

relation to other characters of mine in other booksand who can say that Time may not help me again here?

Perhaps, one of these days, I may be able to make use of some of the many interesting stories of events that

have really happened, which have been placed in my hands by persons who could speak as witnesses to the

truth of the narrative. Thus far, I have not ventured to disturb the repose of these manuscripts in the locked

drawer allotted to them. The true incidents are so "farfetched"; and the conduct of the real people is so

As for the object which I have had in view in writing this story, it is, I hope, plain enough to speak for itself. I

subscribe to the article of belief which declares, that the conditions of human happiness are independent of

bodily affliction, and that it is even possible for bodily affliction itself to take its place among the ingredients

of happiness. These are the views which "Poor Miss Finch" is intended to advocateand this is the

impression which I hope to leave on the mind of the reader when the book is closed.

IN expressing my acknowledgments for the favorable reception accorded to the previous editions of this

story, I may take the present opportunity of adverting to one of the characters, not alluded to in the Letter of

Dedication. The German oculist"Herr Grosse"has impressed himself so strongly as a real personage on

the minds of some of my readers afflicted with blindness, or suffering from diseases of the eye, that I have

received several written applications requesting me to communicate his present address to patients desirous

of consulting him! Sincerely appreciating the testimony thus rendered to the truth of this little study of

character, I have been obliged to acknowledge to my correspondentsand I may as well repeat it herethat

Herr Grosse has no (individual) living prototype. Like the other Persons of the Drama, in this book and in the

books which have preceded it, he is drawn from my general observation of humanity. I have always

considered it to be a mistake in Art to limit the delineation of character in fiction to a literary portrait taken

from any one "sitter." The result of this process is generally (to my mind) to produce a caricature instead of a

You are here invited to read the story of an Event which occurred in an outoftheway corner of England,

The persons principally concerned in the Event are:a blind girl; two (twin) brothers; a skilled surgeon; and

a curious foreign woman. I am the curious foreign woman. And I take it on myselffor reasons which will

So far we understand each other. Good. I may make myself known to you as briefly as I can.

I am Madame Pratolungowidow of that celebrated South American patriot, Doctor Pratolungo. I am

French by birth. Before I married the Doctor, I went through many vicissitudes in my own country. They

ended in leaving me (at an age which is of no consequence to anybody) with some experience of the world;

with a cultivated musical talent on the pianoforte; and with a comfortable little fortune unexpectedly

bequeathed to me by a relative of my dear dead mother (which fortune I shared with good Papa and with my

younger sisters). To these qualifications I added another, the most precious of all, when I married the Doctor;

Some people do one thing, and some do another, in the way of celebrating the event of their marriage. Having

become man and wife, Doctor Pratolungo and I took ship to Central Americaand devoted our

honeymoon, in those disturbed districts, to the sacred duty of destroying tyrants.

Ah! the vital air of my noble husband was the air of revolutions. From his youth upwards he had followed the

glorious profession of Patriot. Wherever the people of the Southern New World rose and declared their

independenceand, in my time, that fervent population did nothing elsethere was the Doctor selfdevoted

on the altar of his adopted country. He had been fifteen times exiled, and condemned to death in his absence,

when I met with him in Paristhe picture of heroic poverty, with a brown complexion and one lame leg.

Who could avoid falling in love with such a man? I was proud when he proposed to devote me on the altar of

his adopted country, as well as himselfme, and my money. For, alas! everything is expensive in this world;

including the destruction of tyrants and the saving of Freedom. All my money went in helping the sacred

cause of the people. Dictators and filibusters flourished in spite of us. Before we had been a year married, the

Doctor had to fly (for the sixteenth time) to escape being tried for his life. My husband condemned to death in

his absence; and I with my pockets empty. This is how the Republic rewarded us. And yet, I love the

Republic. Ah, you monarchypeople, sitting fat and contented under tyrants, respect that!

This time, we took refuge in England. The affairs of Central America went on without us.

I thought of giving lessons in music. But my glorious husband could not spare me away from him. I suppose

we should have starved, and made a sad little paragraph in the English newspapersif the end had not come

in another way. My poor Pratolungo was in truth worn out. He sank under his sixteenth exile. I was left a

widowwith nothing but the inheritance of my husband's noble sentiments to console me.

I went back for awhile to good Papa and my sisters in Paris. But it was not in my nature to remain and be a

burden on them at home. I returned again to London, with recommendations: and encountered inconceivable

disasters in the effort to earn a living honorably. Of all the wealth about methe prodigal, insolent,

ostentatious wealthnone fell to my share. What right has anybody to be rich? I defy you, whoever you may

Without dwelling on my disasters, let it be enough to say that I got up one morning, with three pounds, seven

shillings, and fourpence in my purse; with my fervid temper, and my republican principlesand with

absolutely nothing in prospect, that is to say with not a halfpenny more to come to me, unless I could earn it

In this sad case, what does an honest woman who is bent on winning her own independence by her own

work, do? She takes three and sixpence out of her little humble store; and she advertises herself in a

One always advertises the best side of oneself. (Ah, poor humanity!) My best side was my musical side. In

the days of my vicissitudes (before my marriage) I had at one time had a share in a millinery establishment in

Lyons. At another time, I had been bedchamberwoman to a great lady in Paris. But in my present situation,

these sides of myself were, for various reasons, not so presentable as the pianoforte side. I was not a great

playerfar from it. But I had been soundly instructed; and I had, what you call, a competent skill on the

instrument. Brief, I made the best of myself, I promise you, in my advertisement.

The next day, I borrowed the newspaper, to enjoy the pride of seeing my composition in print.

Ah, heaven! what did I discover? I discovered what other wretched advertising people have found out before

me. Above my own advertisement, the very thing I wanted was advertised for by somebody else! Look in any

newspaper; and you will see strangers who (if I may so express myself) exactly fit each other, advertising for

each other, without knowing it. I had advertised myself as "accomplished musical companion for a lady. With

cheerful temper to match." And there above me was my unknown necessitous fellowcreature, crying out in

printers' types:"Wanted, a companion for a lady. Must be an accomplished musician, and have a cheerful

temper. Testimonials to capacity, and firstrate references required." Exactly what I had offered! "Apply by

letter only, in the first instance." Exactly what I had said! Fie upon me, I had spent three and sixpence for

nothing. I threw down the newspaper, in a transport of anger (like a fool)and then took it up again (like a

My letter brought me into contact with a lawyer. The lawyer enveloped himself in mystery. It seemed to be a

professional habit with him to tell nobody anything, if he could possibly help it.

Drop by drop, this wearisome man let the circumstances out. The lady was a young lady. She was the

daughter of a clergyman. She lived in a retired part of the country. More even than that, she lived in a retired

part of the house. Her father had married a second time. Having only the young lady as child by his first

marriage, he had (I suppose by way of a change) a large family by his second marriage. Circumstances

rendered it necessary for the young lady to live as much apart as she could from the tumult of a houseful of

children. So he went on, until there was no keeping it in any longerand then he let it out. The young lady

The question of my musical capacity was, in this sad case, a serious one. The poor young lady had one great

pleasure to illumine her dark lifeMusic. Her companion was wanted to play from the book, and play

worthily, the works of the great masters (whom this young creature adored)and she, listening, would take

her place next at the piano, and reproduce the music morsel by morsel, by ear. A professor was appointed to

pronounce sentence on me, and declare if I could be trusted not to misinterpret Mozart, Beethoven, and the

other masters who have written for the piano. Through this ordeal I passed with success. As for my

references, they spoke for themselves. Not even the lawyer (though he tried hard) could pick holes in them. It

was arranged on both sides that I should, in the first instance, go on a month's visit to the young lady. If we

both wished it at the end of the time, I was to stay, on terms arranged to my perfect satisfaction. There was

My instructions directed me to travel to the town of Lewes in Sussex. Arrived there, I was to ask for the

ponychaise of my young lady's fatherdescribed on his card as Reverend Tertius Finch. The chaise was to

take me to the rectoryhouse in the village of Dimchurch. And the village of Dimchurch was situated among

When I stepped into the railway carriage, this was all I knew. After my adventurous lifeafter the volcanic

agitations of my republican career in the Doctor's timewas I about to bury myself in a remote English

village, and live a life as monotonous as the life of a sheep on a hill? Ah, with all my experience, I had yet to

learn that the narrowest human limits are wide enough to contain the grandest human emotions. I had seen the

Drama of Life amid the turmoil of tropical revolutions. I was to see it again, with all its palpitating interest, in

A WELLFED boy, with yellow Saxon hair; a little shabby green chaise; and a rough brown ponythese

objects confronted me at the Lewes Station. I said to the boy, "Are you Reverend Finch's servant?" And the

We drove through the towna hilly town of desolate clean houses. No living creatures visible behind the

jealouslyshut windows. No living creatures entering or departing through the sadcolored closed doors. No

theater; no place of amusement except an empty townhall, with a sad policeman meditating on its spruce

white steps. No customers in the shops, and nobody to serve them behind the counter, even if they had turned

up. Here and there on the pavements, an inhabitant with a capacity for staring, and (apparently) a capacity for

nothing else. I said to Reverend Finch's boy, "Is this a rich place?" Reverend Finch's boy brightened and

answered, "That it be!" Good. At any rate, they don't enjoy themselves herethe infamous rich!

Leaving this town of unamused citizens immured in domestic tombs, we got on a fine high roadstill

A spacious open country is a country soon exhausted by a sightseer's eye. I have learnt from my poor

Pratolungo the habit of searching for the political convictions of my fellowcreatures, when I find myself in

contact with them in strange places. Having nothing else to do, I searched Finch's boy. His political

programme, I found to be:As much meat and beer as I can contain; and as little work to do for it as

possible. In return for this, to touch my hat when I meet the Squire, and to be content with the station to

We reached the highest point of the road. On our right hand, the ground sloped away gently into a fertile

valleywith a village and a church in it; and beyond, an abominable privileged enclosure of grass and trees

torn from the community by a tyrant, and called a Park; with the palace in which this enemy of mankind

caroused and fattened, standing in the midst. On our left hand, spread the open countrya magnificent

prospect of grand grassy hills, rolling away to the horizon; bounded only by the sky. To my surprise, Finch's

boy descended; took the pony by the head; and deliberately led him off the high road, and on to the

wilderness of grassy hills, on which not so much as a footpath was discernible anywhere, far or near. The

chaise began to heave and roll like a ship on the sea. It became necessary to hold with both hands to keep my

I insisted on stopping the shipI mean the chaiseand on getting out. We tied my luggage fast with a rope;

and then we went on again, the boy at the pony's head, and I after them on foot.

Ah, what a walk it was! What air over my head; what grass under my feet! The sweetness of the inner land,

and the crisp saltness of the distant sea, were mixed in that delicious breeze. The short turf, fragrant with

odorous herbs, rose and fell elastic, underfoot. The mountainpiles of white cloud moved in sublime

procession along the blue field of heaven, overhead. The wild growth of prickly bushes, spread in great

patches over the grass, was in a glory of yellow bloom. On we went; now up, now down; now bending to the

right, and now turning to the left. I looked about me. No house; no road; no paths, fences, hedges, walls; no

landmarks of any sort. All round us, turn which way we might, nothing was to be seen but the majestic

solitude of the hills. No living creatures appeared but the white dots of sheep scattered over the soft green

distance, and the skylark singing his hymn of happiness, a speck above my head. Truly a wonderful place!

Distant not more than a morning's drive from noisy and populous Brightona stranger to this neighborhood

could only have found his way by the compass, exactly as if he had been sailing on the sea! The farther we

penetrated on our landvoyage, the more wild and the more beautiful the solitary landscape grew. The boy

picked his way as he chosethere were no barriers here. Plodding behind, I saw nothing, at one time, but the

back of the chaise, tilted up in the air, both boy and pony being invisibly buried in the steep descent of the

hill. At other times, the pitch was all the contrary way; the whole interior of the ascending chaise was

disclosed to my view, and above the chaise the pony, and above the pony the boyand, ah, my luggage

swaying and rocking in the frail embraces of the rope that held it. Twenty times did I confidently expect to

see baggage, chaise, pony, boy, all rolling down into the bottom of a valley together. But no! Not the least

little accident happened to spoil my enjoyment of the day. Politically contemptible, Finch's boy had his

merithe was master of his subject as guide and ponyleader among the South Down Hills.

Arrived at the top of (as it seemed to me) our fiftieth grassy summit, I began to look about for signs of the

Behind me, rolled back the long undulations of the hills, with the cloudshadows moving over the solitudes

that we had left. Before me, at a break in the purple distance, I saw the soft white line of the sea. Beneath me,

at my feet, opened the deepest valley I had noticed yetwith one first sign of the presence of Man scored

hideously on the face of Nature, in the shape of a square brown patch of cleared and ploughed land on the

grassy slope. I asked if we were getting near the village now. Finch's boy winked, and answered, "Yes, we

Astonishing Finch's boy! Ask him what questions I might, the resources of his vocabulary remained

invariably the same. Still this youthful Oracle answered always in three monosyllabic words!

Arrived at the bottom, I discovered another sign of Man. Behold the first road I had seen yeta rough

wagonroad ploughed deep in the chalky soil! We crossed this, and turned a corner of a hill. More signs of

human life. Two small boys started up out of a ditchapparently posted as scouts to give notice of our

approach. They yelled, and set off running before us, by some short cut, known only to themselves. We

turned again, round another winding of the valley, and crossed a brook. I considered it my duty to make

myself acquainted with the local names. What was the brook called? It was called "The Cockshoot"! And the

great hill, here, on my right? It was called "The Overblow"! Five minutes more, and we saw our first

houselonely and littlebuilt of mortar and flint from the hills. A name to this also? Certainly. Name of

"Browndown." Another ten minutes of walking, involving us more and more deeply in the mysterious green

windings of the valleyand the great event of the day happened at last. Finch's boy pointed before him with

his whip, and said (even at this supreme moment, still in three monosyllabic words):

So this is Dimchurch! I shake out the chalkdust from the skirts of my dress. I long (quite vainly) for the least

bit of lookingglass to see myself in. Here is the population (to the number of at least five or six), gathered

together, informed by the scoutsand it is my woman's business to produce the best impression of myself

that I can. We advance along the little road. I smile upon the population. The population stares at me in

return. On one side, I remark three or four cottages, and a bit of open ground; also an inn named "The

CrossHands," and a bit more of open ground; also a tiny, tiny butcher's shop, with sanguinary insides of

sheep on one blue piedish in the window, and no other meat than that, and nothing to see beyond, but again

the open ground, and again the hills; indicating the end of the village this side. On the other side there

appears, for some distance, nothing but a long flint wall guarding the outhouses of a farm. Beyond this,

comes another little group of cottages, with the seal of civilization set on them, in the form of a postoffice.

The postoffice deals in general commoditiesin boots and bacon, biscuits and flannel, crinoline petticoats

and religious tracts. Farther on, behold another flint wall, a garden, and a private dwellinghouse;

proclaiming itself as the rectory. Farther yet, on rising ground, a little desolate church, with a tiny white

circular steeple, topped by an extinguisher in red tiles. Beyond this, the hills and the heavens once more. And

I remarked one born gentleman among the inhabitants, and he was a sheepdog. He alone did the honors of

the place. He had a stump of a tail, which he wagged at me with extreme difficulty, and a good honest white

and black face which he poked companionably into my hand. "Welcome, Madame Pratolungo, to Dimchurch;

and excuse these male and female laborers who stand and stare at you. The good God who makes us all has

made them too, but has not succeeded so well as with you and me." I happen to be one of the few people who

can read dogs' language as written in dogs' faces. I correctly report the language of the gentleman sheepdog

We opened the gate of the rectory, and passed in. So my LandVoyage over the South Down Hills came

THE rectory resembled, in one respect, this narrative that I am now writing. It was in Two Parts. Part the

First, in front, composed of the everlasting flint and mortar of the neighborhood, failed to interest me. Part the

Second, running back at a right angle, asserted itself as ancient. It had been, in its time, as I afterwards heard,

a convent of nuns. Here were snug little Gothic windows, and dark ivycovered walls of venerable stone:

repaired in places, at some past period, with quaint red bricks. I had hoped that I should enter the house by

this side of it. But no. The boyafter appearing to be at a loss what to do with meled the way to a door on

Possibly, this person was new to the duty of receiving visitors. Possibly, she was bewildered by a sudden

invasion of children in dirty frocks, darting out on us in the hall, and then darting away again into invisible

back regions, screeching at the sight of a stranger. At any rate, she too appeared to be at a loss what to do

with me. After staring hard at my foreign face, she suddenly opened a door in the wall of the passage, and

admitted me into a small room. Two more children in dirty frocks darted, screaming, out of the asylum thus

offered to me. I mentioned my name, as soon as I could make myself heard. The maid appeared to be terrified

at the length of it. I gave her my card. The maid took it between a dirty finger and thumblooked at it as if it

was some extraordinary natural curiosityturned it round, exhibiting correct black impressions in various

parts of it of her finger and thumbgave up understanding it in despair, and left the room. She was stopped

outside (as I gathered from the sounds) by a returning invasion of children in the hall. There was whispering;

there was giggling; there was, every now and then, a loud thump on the door. Prompted by the children, as I

supposepushed in by them, certainlythe maid suddenly reappeared with a jerk, "Oh, if you please, come

this way," she said. The invasion of children retreated again up the stairsone of them in possession of my

card, and waving it in triumph on the first landing. We penetrated to the other end of the passage. Again, a

door was opened. Unannounced, I entered another, and a larger room. What did I see?

Fortune had favored me at last. My lucky star had led me to the mistress of the house.

I made my best curtsey, and found myself confronting a large, lighthaired, languid, lymphatic ladywho

had evidently been amusing herself by walking up and down the room, at the moment when I appeared. If

there can be such a thing as a damp womanthis was one. There was a humid shine on her colorless white

face, and an overflow of water in her pale blue eyes. Her hair was not dressed; and her lace cap was all on

one side. The upper part of her was clothed in a loose jacket of blue merino; the lower part was robed in a

dimity dressing gown of doubtful white. In one hand, she held a dirty dogs'eared book, which I at once

detected to be a Circulating Library novel. Her other hand supported a baby enveloped in flannel, sucking at

her breast. Such was my first experience of Reverend Finch's Wifedestined to be also the experience of all

aftertime. Never completely dressed; never completely dry; always with a baby in one hand and a novel in the

"Oh! Madame Pratolungo? Yes. I hope somebody has told Miss Finch you are here. She has her own

establishment, and manages everything herself. Have you had a pleasant journey?" (These words were

spoken vacantly, as if her mind was occupied with something else. My first impression of her suggested that

she was a weak, goodnatured woman, and that she must have originally occupied a station in the humbler

"Thank you, Mrs. Finch," I said. "I have enjoyed most heartily my journey among your beautiful hills."

"Oh! you like the hills? Excuse my dress. I was half an hour late this morning. When you lose half an hour in

this house, you never can pick it up again, try how you may." (I soon discovered that Mrs. Finch was always

losing half an hour out of her day, and that she never, by any chance, succeeded in ending it again, as she had

"Ah! that's just where it is." (This was a favorite phrase with Mrs. Finch). "There's Finch, he gets up in the

morning and goes and works in the garden. Then there's the washing of the children; and the dreadful waste

that goes on in the kitchen. And Finch, he comes in without any notice, and wants his breakfast. And of

course I can't leave the baby. And half an hour does slip away so easily, that how to overtake it again, I do

assure you I really don't know." Here the baby began to exhibit symptoms of having taken more maternal

nourishment than his infant stomach could comfortably contain. I held the novel, while Mrs. Finch searched

for her handkerchieffirst in her bedgown pocket; secondly, here, there, and everywhere in the room.

At this interesting moment there was a knock at the door. An elderly woman appearedwho offered a most

refreshing contrast to the members of the household with whom I had made acquaintance thus far. She was

neatly dressed, and she saluted me with the polite composure of a civilized being.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am. My young lady has only this moment heard of your arrival. Will you be so kind

I turned to Mrs. Finch. She had found her handkerchief, and had put her overflowing baby to rights again. I

respectfully handed back the novel. "Thank you," said Mrs. Finch. "I find novels compose my mind. Do you

read novels too? Remind meand I'll lend you this one tomorrow." I expressed my acknowledgments, and

withdrew. At the door, I look round, saluting the lady of the house. Mrs. Finch was promenading the room,

with the baby in one hand and the novel in the other, and the dimity bedgown trailing behind her.

We ascended the stairs, and entered a bare whitewashed passage, with drabcolored doors in it, leading, as I

Every door opened as we passed; children peeped out at me, screamed at me, and banged the door to again.

"What family has the present Mrs. Finch?" I asked. The decent elderly woman was obliged to stop, and

consider. "Including the baby, ma'am, and two sets of twins, and one seven months' child of deficient

intellectfourteen in all." Hearing this, I beganthough I consider priests, kings, and capitalists to be the

enemies of the human raceto feel a certain exceptional interest in Reverend Finch. Did he never wish that

he had been a priest of the Roman Catholic Church, mercifully forbidden to marry at all? While the question

passed through my mind, my guide took out a key, and opened a heavy oaken door at the further end of the

"We are obliged to keep the door locked, ma'am," she explained, "or the children would be in and out of our

After my experience of the children, I own I looked at the oaken door with mingled sentiments of gratitude

We turned a corner, and found ourselves in the vaulted corridor of the ancient portion of the house.

The casement windows, on one sidesunk deep in recesseslooked into the garden. Each recess was filled

with groups of flowers in pots. On the other side, the old wall was gaily decorated with hangings of bright

chintz. The doors were colored of a creamy white, with gilt moldings. The brightly ornamented matting under

our feet I at once recognized as of South American origin. The ceiling above was decorated in delicate pale

blue, with borderings of flowers. Nowhere down the whole extent of the place was so much as a single

At the lower end of the corridor, a solitary figure in a pure white robe was bending over the flowers in the

window. This was the blind girl whose dark hours I had come to cheer. In the scattered villages of the South

Downs, the simple people added their word of pity to her name, and called her compassionately"Poor Miss

Finch." As for me, I can only think of her by her pretty Christian name. She is "Lucilla" when my memory

When my eyes first rested on her, she was picking off the dead leaves from her flowers. Her delicate ear

detected the sound of my strange footstep, long before I reached the place at which she was standing. She

lifted her headand advanced quickly to meet me with a faint flush on her face, which came and died away

again in a moment. I happen to have visited the picture gallery at Dresden in former years. As she approached

me, nearer and nearer, I was irresistibly reminded of the gem of that superb collectionthe matchless Virgin

of Raphael, called "The Madonna di San Sisto." The fair broad forehead; the peculiar fullness of the flesh

between the eyebrow and the eyelid; the delicate outline of the lower face; the tender, sensitive lips; the color

of the complexion and the hairall reflected, with a startling fidelity, the lovely creature of the Dresden

picture. The one fatal point at which the resemblance ceased, was in the eyes. The divinelybeautiful eyes of

Raphael's Virgin were lost in the living likeness of her that confronted me now. There was no deformity;

there was nothing to recoil from, in my blind Lucilla. The poor, dim, sightless eyes had a faded, changeless,

inexpressive lookand that was all. Above them, below them, round them, to the very edges of her eyelids,

there was beauty, movement, life. In themdeath! A more charming creaturewith that one sad

drawbackI never saw. There was no other personal defect in her. She had the fine height, the

wellbalanced figure, and the length of the lower limbs, which make all a woman's movements graceful of

themselves. Her voice was deliciousclear, cheerful, sympathetic. This, and her smilewhich added a

charm of its own to the beauty of her mouthwon my heart, before she had got close enough to me to put

her hand in mine. "Ah, my dear!" I said, in my headlong way, "I am so glad to see you!" The instant the

words passed my lips, I could have cut my tongue out for reminding her in that brutal manner that she was

To my relief, she showed no sign of feeling it as I did. "May I see you, in my way?" she asked gentlyand

I sat down at once on the windowseat. The soft rosy tips of her fingers seemed to cover my whole face in an

instant. Three separate times she passed her hand rapidly over me; her own face absorbed all the while in

breathless attention to what she was about. "Speak again!" she said suddenly, holding her hand over me in

suspense. I said a few words. She stopped me by a kiss. "No more!" she exclaimed joyously. "Your voice

says to my ears, what your face says to my fingers. I know I shall like you. Come in, and see the rooms we

As I rose, she put her arm round my waistthen instantly drew it away again, and shook her fingers

"Ah! I knew it! Pray don't wear dark colors. I have my own blind horror of anything that is dark. Dear

Madame Pratolungo, wear pretty bright colors, to please me!" She put her arm caressingly round me

againround my neck, however, this time, where her hand could rest on my linen collar. "You will change

your dress before dinnerwon't you?" she whispered. "Let me unpack for you, and choose which dress I

We entered the rooms; her bedroom, my bedroom, and our sittingroom between the two. I was prepared

to find them, what they proved to beas bright as lookingglasses, and gilding, and gailycolored

ornaments, and cheerful knickknacks of all sorts could make them. They were more like rooms in my lively

native country than rooms in sober colorless England. The one thing which I own did still astonish me, was

that all this sparkling beauty of adornment in Lucilla's habitation should have been provided for the express

gratification of a young lady who could not see. Experience was yet to show me that the blind can live in

their imaginations, and have their favorite fancies and illusions like the rest of us.

To satisfy Lucilla by changing my dark purple dress, it was necessary that I should first have my boxes. So

far as I knew, Finch's boy had taken my luggage, along with the pony, to the stables. Before Lucilla could

ring the bell to make inquiries, my elderly guide (who had silently left us while we were talking together in

the corridor) reappeared, followed by the boy and a groom, carrying my things. These servants also brought

with them certain parcels for their young mistress, purchased in the town, together with a bottle, wrapped in

fair white paper, which looked like a bottle of medicineand which had a part of its own to play in our

"This is my old nurse," said Lucilla, presenting her attendant to me. "Zillah can do a little of

everythingcooking included. She has had lessons at a London Club. You must like Zillah, Madame

She went down on her knees before the boxes, as she asked the question. No girl with the full use of her eyes

could have enjoyed more thoroughly than she did the trivial amusement of unpacking my clothes. This time,

however, her wonderful delicacy of touch proved to be at fault. Of two dresses of mine which happened to be

exactly the same in texture, though widely different in color, she picked out the dark dress as being the light

one. I saw that I disappointed her sadly when I told her of her mistake. The next guess she made, however,

restored the tips of her fingers to their place in her estimation: she discovered the stripes in a smart pair of

stockings of mine, and brightened up directly. "Don't be long dressing," she said, on leaving me. "We shall

have dinner in half an hour. French dishes, in honor of your arrival. I like a nice dinnerI am what you call

in your country, gourmande. See the sad consequence!" She put one finger to her pretty chin. "I am getting

So she left me. And such was the first impression produced on my mind by "Poor Miss Finch."

OUR nice dinner had long since come to an end. We had chattered, chattered, chatteredas usual with

womenall about ourselves. The day had declined; the setting sun was pouring its last red luster into our

pretty sittingroomwhen Lucilla started as if she had suddenly remembered something, and rang the bell.

Zillah came in. "The bottle from the chemist's," said Lucilla. "I ought to have remembered it hours ago."

I was glad to hear the old nurse address her young lady in that familiar way. It was so thoroughly unEnglish.

Down with the devilish system of separation between the classes in this countrythat is what I say!

"No, no. Not the least occasion." She turned to me. "I suppose you are too tired to go out again, after your

Lucilla's face brightened. For some reason of her own, she had apparently attached a certain importance to

"It's only a visit to a poor rheumatic woman in the village," she said. "I have got an embrocation for her; and I

can't very well send it. She is old and obstinate. If I take it to her, she will believe in the remedy. If anybody

else takes it, she will throw it away. I had utterly forgotten her, in the interest of our nice long talk. Shall we

I had hardly closed the door of my bedroom when there was a knock at it. Lucilla? No; the old nurse entering

on tiptoe, with a face of mystery, and a finger confidentially placed on her lips.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am," she began in a whisper. "I think you ought to know that my young lady has a

purpose in taking you out with her this evening. She is burning with curiositylike all the rest of us for that

matter. She took me out, and used my eyes to see with, yesterday evening; and they have not satisfied her.

"It's natural enough, poor dear," pursued the old woman, following her own train of thought, without the

slightest reference to my question. "We none of us can find out anything about him. He usually takes his walk

at twilight. You are pretty sure to meet him tonight; and you will judge for yourself, ma'amwith an

"My good creature!" I said, "you forget that I am a stranger! I know nothing about it. Has this mysterious

As I said that, there was another knock at the door. Zillah whispered, eagerly, "Don't tell upon me, ma'am!

You will see for yourself. I only speak for my young lady's good." She hobbled away, and opened the

We went out by our own door into the garden, and passing through a gate in the wall, entered the village.

After the caution which the nurse had given me, it was impossible to ask any questions, except at the risk of

making mischief in our little household, on the first day of my joining it. I kept my eyes wide open, and

waited for events. I also committed a blunder at startingI offered Lucilla my hand to lead her. She burst out

"My dear Madame Pratolungo! I know my way better than you do. I roam all over the neighborhood, with

She held up a smart ivory walkingcane, with a bright silk tassel attached. With her cane in one hand, and her

chemical bottle in the otherand her roguish little hat on the top of her headshe made the quaintest and

prettiest picture I had seen for many a long day. "You shall guide me, my dear," I saidand took her arm. We

Nothing in the least like a mysterious figure passed us in the twilight. The few scattered laboring people,

whom I had already seen, I saw againand that was all. Lucilla was silentsuspiciously silent as I thought,

after what Zillah had told me. She had, as I fancied, the look of a person who was listening intently. Arrived

at the cottage of the rheumatic woman, she stopped and went in, while I waited outside. The affair of the

embrocation was soon over. She was out again in a minuteand this time, she took my arm of her own

"Shall we go a little farther?" she said. "It is so nice and cool at this hour of the evening."

Her object in view, whatever it might be, was evidently an object that lay beyond the village. In the solemn,

peaceful twilight we followed the lonely windings of the valley along which I had passed in the morning.

When we came opposite the little solitary house, which I had already learnt to know as "Browndown," I felt

her hand unconsciously tighten on my arm. "Aha!" I said to myself. "Has Browndown anything to do with

"Does the view look very lonely tonight?" she asked, waving her cane over the scene before us.

The true meaning of that question I took to be, "Do you see anybody walking out tonight?" It was not my

business to interpret her meaning, before she had thought fit to confide her secret to me. "To my mind, my

She fell silent again, and absorbed herself in her own thoughts. We turned into a new winding of the

valleyand there, walking towards us from the opposite direction, was a human figure at lastthe figure of

As we got nearer to each other I perceived that he was a gentleman; dressed in a light shootingjacket, and

wearing a felt hat of the conical Italian shape. A little nearerand I saw that he was young. Nearer

stilland I discovered that he was handsome, though in rather an effeminate way. At the same moment,

Lucilla heard his footstep. Her color instantly rose; and once again I felt her hand tighten involuntarily round

my arm. (Good! Here was the mysterious object of Zillah's warning to me found at last!)

I have, and I don't mind acknowledging it, an eye for a handsome man. I looked at him as he passed us. Now

I solemnly assure you, I am not an ugly woman. Nevertheless, as our eyes met, I saw the strange gentleman's

face suddenly contract, with an expression which told me plainly that I had produced a disagreeable

impression on him. With some difficultyfor my companion was holding my arm, and seemed to be

disposed to stop altogetherI quickened my pace so as to get by him rapidly; showing him, I dare say, that I

thought the change in his face when I looked at him, an impertinence on his part. However that may be, after

a momentary interval, I heard his step behind. The man had turned, and had followed us.

At the first sound of his voice, I felt Lucilla start. Her hand began to tremble on my arm with some sudden

agitation, inconceivable to me. In the double surprise of discovering this, and of finding myself charged so

abruptly with the offense of looking at a gentleman, I suffered the most exceptional of all losses (where a

He gave me no time to recover myself. He proceeded with what he had to sayspeaking, mind, in the tone

of a perfectly wellbred man; with nothing wild in his look, and nothing odd in his manner.

"Excuse me, if I venture on asking you a very strange question," he went on. "Did you happen to be at Exeter,

(I must have been more or less than woman, if I had not recovered the use of my tongue now!)

"I never was at Exeter in my life, sir," I answered. "May I ask, on my side, why you put the question to me?"

He was plainly on the point of inquiring next, whether Lucilla had been at Exeterwhen he checked himself.

In the breathless interest which she felt in what was going on, she had turned her full face upon him. There

was still light enough left for her eyes to tell their own sad story, in their own mute way. As he read the truth

in them, the man's face changed from the keen look of scrutiny which it had worn thus far, to an expression

of compassionI had almost said, of distress. He again took off his hat, and bowed to me with the deepest

"I beg your pardon," he said, very earnestly. "I beg the young lady's pardon. Pray forgive me. My strange

behavior has its excuseif I could bring myself to explain it. You distressed me, when you looked at me. I

He turned away hastily, like a man confused and ashamed of himselfand left us. I can only repeat that

there was nothing strange or flighty in his manner. A perfect gentleman, in full possession of his

I looked at Lucilla. She was standing, with her blind face raised to the sky, lost in herself, like a person

My question brought her down suddenly from heaven to earth. "Oh!" she said reproachfully, "I had his voice

still in my earsand now I have lost it! 'Who is he?' " she added, after a moment; repeating my question.

"Nobody knows. Tell mewhat is he like. Is he beautiful? He must be beautiful, with that voice!"

"Yes. He passed us yesterday, when I was out with Zillah. But he never spoke. What is he like? Do, pray tell

There was a passionate impatience in her tone which warned me not to trifle with her. The darkness was

coming. I thought it wise to propose returning to the house. She consented to do anything I liked, as long as I

All the way back, I was questioned and crossquestioned till I felt like a witness under skillful examination in

a court of law. Lucilla appeared to be satisfied, so far, with the results. "Ah!" she exclaimed, letting out the

secret which her old nurse had confided to me. "You can use your eyes. Zillah could tell me nothing."

When we got home again, her curiosity took another turn. "Exeter?" she said, considering with herself. "He

mentioned Exeter. I am like youI never was there. What will books tell us about Exeter?" She despatched

Zillah to the other side of the house for a gazetteer. I followed the old woman into the corridor, and set her

mind at ease, in a whisper. "I have kept what you told me a secret," I said. "The man was out in the twilight,

as you foresaw. I have spoken to him; and I am quite as curious as the rest of you. Get the book."

Lucilla had (to confess the truth) infected me with her idea, that the gazetteer might help us in interpreting the

stranger's remarkable question relating to the third of last month, and his extraordinary assertion that I had

distressed him when I looked at him. With the nurse breathless on one side of me, and Lucilla breathless on

the other, I opened the book at the letter "E," and found the place, and read aloud these lines, as follows:

"EXETER: A city and seaport in Devonshire. Formerly the seat of the West Saxon Kings. It has a large

foreign and home commerce. Population 33,738. The Assizes for Devonshire are held at Exeter in the spring

THERE had been barely light enough left for me to read by. Zillah lit the candles and drew the curtains. The

"Who can he be?" repeated Lucilla, for the hundredth time. "And why should your looking at him have

The last sentence in the gazetteer's description of Exeter hung a little on my mindin consequence of there

being one word in it which I did not quite understandthe word "Assizes." I have, I hope, shown that I

possess a competent knowledge of the English language, by this time. But my experience fails a little on the

side of phrases consecrated to the use of the law. I inquired into the meaning of "Assizes," and was informed

that it signified movable Courts, for trying prisoners at given times, in various parts of England. Hearing this,

I had another of my inspirations. I guessed immediately that the interesting stranger was a criminal escaped

Worthy old Zillah started to her feet, convinced that I had hit him off (as the English saying is) to a T. "Mercy

She hurried out of the room to defend us from robbery and murder, before it was too late. I looked at Lucilla.

She was leaning back in her chair, with a smile of quiet contempt on her pretty face. "Madame Pratolungo,"

she remarked, "that is the first foolish thing you have said, since you have been here."

"Wait a little, my dear," I rejoined. "You have declared that nothing is known of this man. Now you mean by

thatnothing which satisfies you. He has not dropped down from Heaven, I suppose? The time when he

came here, must be known. Also, whether he came alone, or not. Also, how and where he has found a lodging

in the village. Before I admit that my guess is completely wrong, I want to hear what general observation in

Dimchurch has discovered on the subject of this gentleman. How long has he been here?"

Lucilla did not, at first, appear to be much interested in the purely practical view of the question which I had

I sat up in my chair. The appearance of his twinbrother in the story was a complication in itself. Two

"To the CrossHandsthe little publichouse in the village. The landlord told Zillah he was perfectly

astonished at the resemblance between them. It was impossible to know which was whichit was

wonderful, even for twins. They arrived early in the day, when the taproom was empty; and they had a long

talk together in private. At the end of it, they rang for the landlord, and asked if he had a bedroom to let in

the house. You must have seen for yourself that The CrossHands is a mere beershop. The landlord had a

room that he could sparea wretched place, not fit for a gentleman to sleep in. One of the brothers took the

"He went away the same dayvery unwillingly. The parting between them was most affecting. The brother

who spoke to us tonight insisted on itor the other would have refused to leave him. They both shed

"They did worse than that," said old Zillah, reentering the room at the moment. "I have made all the doors

"Kissed each other!" said Zillah, with a look of profound disgust. "Two men! Foreigners, of course."

"The landlord asked the one who stayed behind for his name," replied Lucilla. "He said it was 'Dubourg.' "

This confirmed me in my belief that I had guessed right. "Dubourg" is as common a name in my country as

"Jones" or "Thompson" is in Englandjust the sort of feigned name that a man in difficulties would give

among us. Was he a criminal countryman of mine? No! There had been nothing foreign in his accent when he

spoke. Pure Englishthere could be no doubt of that. And yet he had given a French name. Had he

deliberately insulted my nation? Yes! Not content with being stained by innumerable crimes, he had added to

"Well?" I resumed. "We have left this undetected ruffian deserted in the publichouse. Is he there still?"

"Bless your heart!" cried the old nurse, "he is settled in the neighborhood. He has taken Browndown."

I turned to Lucilla. "Browndown belongs to Somebody," I said hazarding another guess. "Did Somebody let

"Browndown belongs to a gentleman at Brighton," answered Lucilla. "And the gentleman was referred to a

wellknown name in Londonone of the great City merchants. Here is the most provoking part of the whole

mystery. The merchant said, 'I have known Mr. Dubourg from his childhood. He has reasons for wishing to

live in the strictest retirement. I answer for his being an honorable man, to whom you can safely let your

house. More than this I am not authorized to tell you.' My father knows the landlord of Browndown; and that

is what the reference said to him, word for word. Isn't it provoking? The house was let for six months certain,

the next day. It is wretchedly furnished. Mr. Dubourg has had several things that he wanted sent from

Brighton. Besides the furniture, a packingcase from London arrived at the house today. It was so strongly

nailed up that the carpenter had to be sent for to open it. He reports that the case was full of thin plates of gold

and silver; and it was accompanied by a box of extraordinary tools, the use of which was a mystery to the

carpenter himself. Mr. Dubourg locked up these things in a room at the back of the house, and put the key in

his pocket. He seemed to be pleasedhe whistled a tune, and said, 'Now we shall do!' The landlady at the

CrossHands is our authority for this. She does what little cooking he requires; and her daughter makes his

bed, and so on. They go to him in the morning, and return to the inn in the evening. He has no servant with

him. He is all by himself at night. Isn't it interesting? A mystery in real life. It baffles everybody."

"You must be very strange people, my dear," I said, "to make a mystery of such a plain case as this."

"Certainly! The gold and silver plates, and the strange tools, and the living in retirement, and the sending the

servants away at nightall point to the same conclusion. My guess is the right one. The man is an escaped

criminal; and his form of crime is coining false money. He has been discovered at Exeterhe has escaped

the officers of justiceand he is now going to begin again here. You can do as you please. If I happen to

Lucilla laid herself back in her chair again. I could see that she gave me up, in the matter of Mr. Dubourg, as

"A coiner of false money, recommended as an honorable man by one of the first merchants in London!" she

exclaimed. "We do some very eccentric things in England, occasionallybut there is a limit to our national

She spoke a little sharply. Mr. Dubourg was the hero of her romance. She resentedseriously resentedany

I persisted in my unfavorable opinion of him, nevertheless. The question between us (as I might have told

her) was a question of believing, or not believing, in the merchant of London. To her mind, it was a sufficient

guarantee of his integrity that he was a rich man. To my mind (speaking as a good Socialist), that very

circumstance told dead against him. A capitalist is a robber of one sort, and a coiner is a robber of another

sort. Whether the capitalist recommends the coiner, or the coiner the capitalist, is all one to me. In either case

(to quote the language of an excellent English play) the honest people are the soft easy cushions on which

these knaves repose and fatten. It was on the tip of my tongue to put this large and liberal view of the subject

to Lucilla. But (alas!) it was easy to see that the poor child was infected by the narrow prejudices of the class

amid which she lived. How could I find it in my heart to run the risk of a disagreement between us on the first

day? Noit was not to be done. I gave the nice pretty blind girl a kiss. And we went to the piano together.

And I put off making a good Socialist of Lucilla till a more convenient opportunity.

I played my best. From Mozart to Beethoven. From Beethoven to Schubert. From Schubert to Chopin. She

listened with all the will in the world to be pleased. She thanked me again and again. She tried, at my

invitation, to play herself; choosing the familiar compositions which she knew by ear. No! The abominable

Dubourg, having got the uppermost place in her mind, kept it. She tried, and tried, and triedand could do

nothing. His voice was still in her earsthe only music which could possess itself of her attention that night.

I took her place, and began to play again. She suddenly snatched my hands off the keys. "Is Zillah here?" she

whispered. I told her Zillah had left the room. She laid her charming head on my shoulder, and sighed

hysterically. "I can't help thinking of him," she burst out. "I am miserable for the first time in my lifeno! I

am happy for the first time in my life. Oh, what must you think of me! I don't know what I am talking about.

Why did you encourage him to speak to us? I might never have heard his voice but for you." She lifted her

head again with a little shiver, and composed herself. One of her hands wandered here and there over the keys

of the piano, playing softly. "His charming voice!" she whispered dreamily while she played. "Oh, his

charming voice!" She paused again. Her hand dropped from the piano, and took mine. "Is this love?" she

My duty as a respectable woman lay clearly before memy duty was to tell her a lie.

"It is nothing, my dear, but too much excitement and too much fatigue," I said. "Tomorrow you shall be my

young lady again. Tonight you must be only my child. Come, and let me put you to bed."

She yielded with a weary sigh. Ah, how lovely she looked in her pretty nightdress, on her knees at the

I am, let me own, an equally headlong woman at loving and hating. When I had left her for the night, I could

hardly have felt more tenderly interested in her if she had been really a child of my own. You have met with

people of my sortunless you are a very forbidding person indeedwho have talked to you in the most

confidential manner of all their private affairs, on meeting you in a railway carriage, or sitting next to you at a

tabled'h�te. For myself, I believe I shall go on running up sudden friendships with strangers to my dying

day. Infamous Dubourg! If I could have got into Browndown that night, I should have liked to have done to

him what a Mexican maid of mine (at the Central American period of my career) did to her drunken

husbandwho was a kind of peddler, dealing in whips and sticks. She sewed him strongly up one night in

the sheet, while he lay snoring off his liquor in bed; and then she took his whole stockintrade out of the

corner of the room, and broke it on him, to the last article on sale, until he was beaten to a jelly from head to

Not having this resource open to me, I sat myself down in my bedroom, to considerif the matter of

I have already mentioned that Lucilla and I had idled away the whole afternoon, womanlike, in talking of

ourselves. You will best understand what course my reflections took, if I here relate the chief particulars

which Lucilla communicated to me, concerning her own singular position in her father's house.

LARGE families areas my experience goesof two sorts. We have the families whose members all

admire each other. And we have the families whose members all detest each other. For myself, I prefer the

second sort. Their quarrels are their own affair; and they have a merit which the first sort are never known to

possessthe merit of being sometimes able to see the good qualities of persons who do not possess the

advantage of being related to them by blood. The families whose members all admire each other, are families

saturated with insufferable conceit. You happen to speak of Shakespeare, among these people, as a type of

supreme intellectual capacity. A female member of the family will not fail to convey to you that you would

have illustrated your meaning far more completely if you had referred her to "dear Papa." You are out

walking with a male member of the household; and you say of a woman who passes, "What a charming

creature!" Your companion smiles at your simplicity, and wonders whether you have ever seen his sister

when she is dressed for a ball. These are the families who cannot be separated without corresponding with

each other every day. They read you extracts from their letters, and say, "Where is the writer by profession

who can equal this?" They talk of their private affairs, in your presenceand appear to think that you ought

to be interested too. They enjoy their own jokes across you at tableand wonder how it is that you are not

amused. In domestic circles of this sort the sisters sit habitually on the brothers' knees; and the husbands

inquire into the wives' ailments, in public, as unconcernedly as if they were closeted in their own room. When

we arrive at a more advanced stage of civilization, the State will supply cages for these intolerable people;

and notices will be posted at the corners of streets, "Beware of Number Twelve: a family in a state of mutual

I gathered from Lucilla that the Finches were of the second order of large families, as mentioned above.

Hardly one of the members of this domestic group was on speaking terms with the other. And some of them

had been separated for years, without once troubling Her Majesty's Post Office to convey even the slightest

The first wife of Reverend Finch was a Miss Batchford. The members of her family (limited at the time of the

marriage to her brother and her sister) strongly disapproved of her choice of a husband. The rank of a Finch (I

laugh at these contemptible distinctions!) was decided, in this case, to be not equal to the rank of a Batchford.

Nevertheless, Miss married. Her brother and sister declined to be present at the ceremony. First quarrel.

Lucilla was born. Reverend Finch's elder brother (on speaking terms with no other member of the family)

interfered with a Christian proposalnamelyto shake hands across the baby's cradle. Adopted by the

Time passed. Reverend Finchthen officiating in a poor curacy near a great manufacturing townfelt a

want (the want of money); and took a liberty (the liberty of attempting to borrow of his brotherinlaw). Mr.

Batchford, being a rich man, regarded this overture, it is needless to say, in the light of an insult. Miss

Time passed, as before. Mrs. Finch the first died. Reverend Finch's elder brother (still at daggers drawn with

the other members of the family) made a second Christian proposalnamelyto shake hands across the

wife's grave. Adopted once more by the bereaved Batchfords. Second reconciliation.

Another lapse of time. Reverend Finch, left a widower with one daughter, became personally acquainted with

an inhabitant of the great city near which he ministered, who was also a widower with one daughter. The

status of the parent, in this casesocialpoliticalreligiouswas ShoemakerRadicalBaptist. Reverend

Finch, still wanting money, swallowed it all; and married the daughter, with a dowry of three thousand

pounds. This proceeding alienated from him for ever, not the Batchfords only, but the peacemaking elder

brother as well. That excellent Christian ceased to be on speaking terms now with his brother the clergyman,

as well as with all the rest of the family. The complete isolation of Reverend Finch followed. Regularly every

year did the second Mrs. Finch afford opportunities of shaking hands, not only over one cradle, but

sometimes over two. Vain and meritorious fertility! Nothing came of it, but a kind of compromise. Lucilla,

quite overlooked among the rector's rapidlyincreasing second family, was allowed to visit her maternal

uncle and aunt at stated periods in every year. Born, to all appearance with the full possession of her sight, the

poor child had become incurably blind before she was a year old. In all other respects, she presented a

striking resemblance to her mother. Bachelor uncle Batchford, and his old maiden sister, both conceived the

strongest affection for the child. "Our niece Lucilla," they said, "has justified our fondest hopesshe is a

Batchford, not a Finch!" Lucilla's father (promoted, by this time, to the rectory of Dimchurch) let them talk.

"Wait a bit, and money will come of it," was all he said. Truly money was wanted!with fruitful Mrs. Finch

multiplying cradles, year after year, till the doctor himself (employed on contract) got tired of it, and said one

day, "It is not true that there is an end to everything: there is no end to the multiplying capacity of Mrs.

Lucilla grew up from childhood to womanhood. She was twenty years old, before her father's expectations

Uncle Batchford died a single man. He divided his fortune between his maiden sister, and his niece. When

she came of age, Lucilla was to have an income of fifteen hundred pounds a yearon certain conditions,

which the will set forth at great length. The effect of these conditions was (first) to render it absolutely

impossible for Reverend Finch, under any circumstances whatever, to legally inherit a single farthing of the

moneyand (secondly), to detach Lucilla from her father's household, and to place her under the care of her

maiden aunt, so long as she remained unmarried, for a period of three months in every year.

The will avowed the object of this last condition in the plainest words. "I die as I have lived" (wrote uncle

Batchford), "a High Churchman and a Tory. My legacy to my niece shall only take effect on these

termsnamelythat she shall be removed at certain stated periods from the Dissenting and Radical

influences to which she is subjected under her father's roof, and shall be placed under the care of an English

gentlewoman who unites to the advantages of birth and breeding the possession of high and honorable

principles"etcetera, etcetera. Can you conceive Reverend Finch's feelings, sitting, with his daughter by his

side, among the company, while the will was read, and hearing this? He got up, like a true Englishman, and

made them a speech. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I admit that I am a Liberal in politics, and that my

wife's family are Dissenters. As an example of the principles thus engendered in my household, I beg to

inform you that my daughter accepts this legacy with my full permission, and that I forgive Mr. Batchford."

With that, he walked out, with his daughter on his arm. He had heard enough, please to observe, to satisfy

him that Lucilla (while she lived unmarried) could do what she liked with her income. Before they had got

back to Dimchurch, Reverend Finch had completed a domestic arrangement which permitted his daughter to

occupy a perfectly independent position in the rectory, and which placed in her father's pocketsas Miss

(Do you know what I felt when I heard this? I felt the deepest regret that Finch of the liberal principles had

not made a third with my poor Pratolungo and me in Central America. With him to advise us, we should have

The old side of the rectory, hitherto uninhabited, was put in order and furnishedof course at Lucilla's

expense. On her twentyfirst birthday, the repairs were completed; the first installment of the housekeeping

money was paid; and the daughter was established, as an independent lodger, in her own father's house!

In order to thoroughly appreciate Finch's ingenuity, it is necessary to add here that Lucilla had shown, as she

grew up, an increasing dislike of living at home. In her blind state, the endless turmoil of the children

distracted her. She and her stepmother did not possess a single sympathy in common. Her relations with her

father were in much the same condition. She could compassionate his poverty, and she could treat him with

the forbearance and respect due to him from his child. As to really venerating and loving himthe less said

about that the better. Her happiest days had been the days she spent with her uncle and aunt; her visits to the

Batchfords had grown to be longer and longer visits with every succeeding year. If the father, in appealing to

the daughter's sympathies, had not dexterously contrived to unite the preservation of her independence with

the continuance of her residence under his roof, she would, on coming of age, either have lived altogether

with her aunt, or have set up an establishment of her own. As it was, the rector had secured his five hundred a

year, on terms acceptable to both sidesand, more than that, he had got her safe under his own eye. For,

remark, there was one terrible possibility threatening him in the futurethe possibility of Lucilla's marriage!

Such was the strange domestic position of this interesting creature, at the time when I entered the house.

You will now understand how completely puzzled I was when I recalled what had happened on the evening

of my arrival, and when I asked myselfin the matter of the mysterious strangerwhat course I was to take

next. I had found Lucilla a solitary beinghelplessly dependent in her blindness on othersand, in that sad

condition, without a mother, without a sister, without a friend even in whose sympathies she could take

refuge, in whose advice she could trust. I had produced a first favorable impression on her; I had won her

liking at once, as she had won mine. I had accompanied her on an evening walk, innocent of all suspicion of

what was going on in her mind. I had by pure accident enabled a stranger to intensify the imaginary interest

which she felt in him, by provoking him to speak in her hearing for the first time. In a moment of hysterical

agitationand in sheer despair of knowing who else to confide inthe poor, foolish, blind, lonely girl had

If the case had been an ordinary one, the whole affair would have been simply ridiculous.

The minds of the blind are, by cruel necessity, forced inward on themselves. They live apart from usah,

how hopelessly far apart!in their own dark sphere, of which we know nothing. What relief could come to

Lucilla from the world outside? None! It was part of her desolate liberty to be free to dwell unremittingly on

the ideal creature of her own dream. Within the narrow limit of the one impression that it had been possible

for her to derive of this manthe impression of the beauty of his voiceher fancy was left to work

unrestrained in the changeless darkness of her life. What a picture! I shudder as I draw it. Oh, yes, it is easy, I

know, to look at it the other wayto laugh at the folly of a girl, who first excites her imagination about a

total stranger; and then, when she hears him speak, falls in love with his voice! But add that the girl is blind;

that the girl lives habitually in the world of her own imagination; that the girl has nobody at home who can

exercise a wholesome influence over her. Is there nothing pitiable in such a state of things as this? For

myself, though I come of a lighthearted nation that laughs at everythingI saw my own face looking

I looked at my bed. Bah! what was the use of going to bed? She was her own mistress. She was perfectly free

to take her next walk to Browndown alone! and to place herself, for all I knew to the contrary, at the mercy of

a dishonorable and designing man. What was I? Only her companion. I had no right to interfereand yet, if

anything happened, I should be blamed. It is so easy to say, "You ought to have done something." Whom

could I consult? The worthy old nurse only held the position of servant. Could I address myself to the

lymphatic lady with the baby in one hand, and the novel in the other? Absurd! her stepmother was not to be

thought of. Her father? Judging by hearsay, I had not derived a favorable impression of the capacity of

Reverend Finch for interfering successfully in a matter of this sort. However, he was her father; and I could

feel my way cautiously with him at first. Hearing Zillah moving about the corridor, I went out to her. In the

course of a little gossip, I introduced the name of the master of the house. How was it I had not seen him yet?

For an excellent reason. He had gone to visit a friend at Brighton. It was then Tuesday. He was expected back

I returned to my room, a little out of temper. In this state my mind works with wonderful freedom. I had

another of my inspirations. Mr. Dubourg had taken the liberty of speaking to me that evening. Good. I

determined to go alone to Browndown the next morning, and take the liberty of speaking to Mr. Dubourg.

Was this resolution solely inspired by my interest in Lucilla? Or had my own curiosity been all the time

working under the surface, and influencing the course of my reflections unknown to myself? I went to bed

WHEN I put out my candle that night, I made a mistakeI trusted entirely to myself to wake in good time in

Hours passed before I could close my eyes. It was broken rest when it came, until the day dawned. Then I fell

asleep at last in good earnest. When I woke, and looked at my watch, I was amazed to find that it was ten

I jumped out of bed, and rang for the old nurse. Was Lucilla at home? No: she had gone out for a little walk.

She had got the start of methanks to my laziness in sleeping away the precious hours of the morning in

bed. The one thing to do, was to follow her as speedily as possible. In half an hour more, I was out for a little

walk by myselfand (what do you think?) my direction also was up the valley, towards Browndown.

A pastoral solitude reigned round the lonely little house. I went on beyond it, into the next winding of the

valley. Not a human creature was to be seen. I returned to Browndown to reconnoiter. Ascending the rising

ground on which the house was built, I approached it from the back. The windows were all open. I listened.

(Do you suppose I felt scruples in such an emergency as this? Oh, pooh! pooh! who but a fool would have

felt anything of the sort!) I listened with both my ears. Through a window at the side of the house, I heard the

sound of voices. Advancing noiselessly on the turf, I heard the voice of Dubourg. He was answered by a

"Wonderful!" I heard him say. "I believe you have eyes in the ends of your fingers. Take this, nowand try

"A little vase," she answeredspeaking, I give you my word of honor, as composedly as if she had known

him for years. "Wait! what metal is it? Silver? No. Gold. Did you really make this yourself as well as the

"Yes. It is an odd taste of mineisn't it?to be fond of chasing in gold and silver. Years ago I met with a

man in Italy, who taught me. It amused me, thenand it amuses me now. When I was recovering from an

illness last spring, I shaped that vase out of the plain metal, and made the ornaments on it."

"Another mystery revealed!" she exclaimed. "Now I know what you wanted with those gold and silver plates

that came to you from London. Are you aware of what a character you have got here? There are some of us

They both burst out laughing as gaily as a couple of children. I declare I wished myself one of the party! But

no. I had my duty to do as a respectable woman. My duty was to steal a little nearer, and see if any

familiarities were passing between these two merry young people. One half of the open window was

sheltered, on the outer side, by a Venetian blind. I stood behind the blind, and peeped in. (Duty! oh, dear me,

painful, but necessary duty!) Dubourg was sitting with his back to the window. Lucilla faced me opposite to

him. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure. She held in her lap a pretty little golden vase. Her clever fingers

were passing over it rapidly, exactly as they had passed, the previous evening, over my face.

"You shall judge for yourself. The pattern is made of leaves, with birds placed among them, at intervals.

Stop! I think I have felt leaves like these on the old side of the rectory, against the wall. Ivy?"

"The birds," she resumed. "I shan't be satisfied till I have told you what the birds are. Haven't I got silver

birds like themonly much largerfor holding pepper, and mustard, and sugar, and so on. Owls!" she

exclaimed, with a cry of triumph. "Little owls, sitting in ivynests. What a delightful pattern! I never heard of

"Keep the vase!" he said. "You will honor me, you will delight me, if you will keep the vase."

"I might take it, if you were not a stranger," she said. "Why don't you tell us who you are, and what your

"I know I ought to explain myself," he answered. "I can't be surprised if people are suspicious of me." He

She felt for the table, with her ivory cane, and put the vase down on itvery unwillingly.

He opened the door of the room for her in silence. Waiting close against the side of the house, I saw them

appear under the porch, and cross the little walled enclosure in front. As she stepped out on the open turf

"If you won't tell me your secret," she said, "will you tell it to some one else? Will you tell it to a friend of

"So much the more reason for your explaining yourself," she rejoined. "If you will only satisfy her, I might

ask you to come and see usI might even take the vase." With that strong hint, she actually gave him her

hand at parting. Her perfect selfpossession, her easy familiarity with this strangerso bold, and yet so

innocentpetrified me. "I shall send my friend to you this morning," she said imperiously, striking her cane

With that, she signed to him that he was to follow her no farther, and went her way back to the village.

Does it not surprise you, as it surprised me? Instead of her blindness making her nervous in the presence of a

man unknown to her, it appeared to have exactly the contrary effect. It made her fearless.

He stood on the spot where she had left him, watching her as she receded in the distance. His manner towards

her, in the house and out of the house, had exhibited, it is only fair to say, the utmost consideration and

respect. Whatever shyness there had been between them, was shyness entirely on his side. I had a short stuff

dress on, which made no noise over the grass. I skirted the wall of the enclosure, and approached him

unsuspected, from behind. "The charming creature!" he said to himself, still following her with his eyes. As

the words passed his lips, I struck him smartly on the shoulder with my parasol.

He started violentlyand confronted me in speechless dismay; his color coming and going like the color of a

young girl. Anybody who understands women will understand that this behavior on his part, far from

"In your present position in this place, sir," I went on, "do you think it honorable conduct on your part to

decoy a young lady, to whom you are a perfect stranger, into your housea young lady who claims, in right

of her sad affliction, even more than the usual forbearance and respect which a gentleman owes to her sex?"

"You are doing me a great injustice, ma'am," he answered. "It is a shame to say that I have failed in respect to

the young lady! I feel the sincerest admiration and compassion for her. Circumstances justify me in what I

have done; I could not have acted otherwise. I refer you to the young lady herself."

His voice rose higher and higherhe was thoroughly offended with me. Need I add (seeing the prospect not

far off of his bullying me), that I unblushingly shifted my ground, and tried a little civility next?

"If I have done you an injustice, sir, I ask your pardon," I answered. "Having said so much, I have only to add

This soothed his offended dignity. His gentler manner began to show itself again.

"The truth is," he said, "that I owe my introduction to the young lady to an illtempered little dog belonging

to the people at the inn. The dog had followed the person here who attends on me: and it startled the lady by

flying out and barking at her as she passed this house. After I had driven away the dog, I begged her to come

in and sit down until she had recovered herself. Am I to blame for doing that? I don't deny that I felt the

deepest interest in her and that I did my best to amuse her, while she honored me by remaining in my house.

With the best will in the world to maintain my unfavorable opinion of him, I was, by this time, fairly forced

to acknowledge to myself that the opinion was wrong. His explanation was, in tone and manner as well as in

And, besidesthough he was a little too effeminate for my tastehe really was such a handsome young

man! His hair was of a fine bright chestnut color, with a natural curl in it. His eyes were of the lightest brown

I had ever seenwith a singularly winning gentle modest expression in them. As for his complexionso

creamy and spotless and fairhe had no right to it: it ought to have been a woman's complexion, or at least a

boy's. He looked indeed more like a boy than a man: his smooth face was quite uncovered, either by beard,

whisker, or mustache. If he had asked me, I should have guessed him (though he was really three years older)

"Our acquaintance has begun rather oddly, sir," I said. "You spoke strangely to me last night; and I have

spoken hastily to you this morning. Accept my excusesand let us try if we can't do each other justice in the

end. I have something more to say to you before we part. Will you think me a very extraordinary woman, if I

We entered the room in which he had received Lucilla; and sat down together on the two chairs near the

windowwith this differencethat I contrived to possess myself of the seat which he had occupied, and so

"Mr. Dubourg," I began, "you will already have guessed that I overheard what Miss Finch said to you at

He bowed, in silent acknowledgment that it was soand began to toy nervously with the gold vase which

"What do you propose to do?" I went on. "You have spoken of the interest you feel in my young friend. If it

is a true interest, it will lead you to merit her good opinion by complying with her request. Tell me plainly, if

you please. Will you come and see us, in the character of a gentleman who has satisfied two ladies that they

can receive him as a neighbor and a friend? Or will you oblige me to warn the rector of Dimchurch that his

daughter is in danger of permitting a doubtful character to force his acquaintance on her?"

"If you knew what I have suffered," he said; "if you had gone through what I have been compelled to

endure" His voice failed him; his soft brown eyes moistened; his head drooped. He said no more.

In common with all women, I like a man to be a man. There was, to my mind, something weak and

womanish in the manner in which this Dubourg met the advance which I had made to him. He not only failed

"I too have suffered," I answered. "I too have been compelled to endure. But there is this difference between

us. My courage is not worn out. In your place, if I knew myself to be an honorable man, I would not allow the

breath of suspicion to rest on me for an instant. Cost what it might, I would vindicate myself. I should be

"Have you been stared at by hundreds of cruel eyes?" he burst out passionately. "Have you been pointed at,

without mercy, wherever you go? Have you been put in the pillory of the newspapers? Has the photograph

proclaimed your infamous notoriety in all the shopwindows?" He dropped back into his chair, and wrung

his hands in a frenzy. "Oh, the public!" he exclaimed; "the horrible public! I can't get away from themI

can't hide myself, even here. You have had your stare at me, like the rest," he cried, turning on me fiercely. "I

"I never saw you out of this place," I answered. "As for the portraits of you, whoever you may be, I know

nothing about them. I was far too anxious and too wretched, to amuse myself by looking into shopwindows

before I came here. You, and your name, are equally strange to me. If you have any respect for yourself, tell

me who you are. Out with the truth, sir! You know as well as I do that you have gone too far to stop."

I seized him by the hand. I was wrought up by the extraordinary outburst that had escaped him to the highest

pitch of excitement: I was hardly conscious of what I said or did. At that supreme moment, we enraged, we

maddened each other. His hand closed convulsively on my hand. His eyes looked wildly into mine.

"Good God!" I cried. "You are the man who was tried for murder last month, and who was all but hanged, on

WE looked at one another in silence. Both alike, we were obliged to wait a little and recover ourselves.

I may occupy the interval by answering two questions which will arise in your minds in this place. How did

Dubourg come to be tried for his life? And what was the connection between this serious matter and the false

The reply to both these inquiries is to be found in the story which I call the Perjury of the Clock.

In briefly relating this curious incidental narrative (which I take from a statement of the circumstances placed

in my possession) I shall speak of our new acquaintance at Browndownand shall continue to speak of him

throughout these pagesby his assumed name. In the first place, it was the maiden name of his mother, and

he had a right to take it if he pleased. In the second place, the date of our domestic drama at Dimchurch goes

back as far as the years 'fiftyeight and 'fiftynine; and real names are (now that it is all over) of no

consequence to anybody. With "Dubourg" we have begun. With "Dubourg" let us go on to the end.

On a summer evening, some years ago, a man was found murdered in a field near a certain town in the West

The man was a small carpenter and builder in the town, who bore an indifferent character. On the evening in

question, a distant relative of his, employed as farmbailiff by a gentleman in the neighborhood, happened to

be passing a stile which led from the field into a road, and saw a gentleman leaving the field by way of this

The two passed each other on the road in opposite directions. After a certain lapse of timeestimated as

being half an hourthe farmbailiff had occasion to pass back along the same road. On reaching the stile, he

heard an alarm raised, and entered the field to see what was the matter. He found several persons running

from the farther side of Pardon's Piece towards a boy who was standing at the back of a cattleshed, in a

remote part of the enclosure, screaming with terror. At the boy's feet lay, face downwards, the dead body of a

man, with his head horribly beaten in. His watch was under him, hanging out of his pocket by the chain. It

had stoppedevidently in consequence of the concussion of its owner's fall on itat halfpast eight. The

body was still warm. All the other valuables, like the watch, were left on it. The farmbailiff instantly

At the preliminary inquiry, the stoppage of the watch at halfpast eight, was taken as offering good

circumstantial evidence that the blow which had killed the man had been struck at that time.

The next question wasif any one had been seen near the body at halfpast eight? The farmbailiff declared

that he had met Mr. Dubourg hastily leaving the field by the stile at that very time. Asked if he had looked at

his watch, he owned that he had not done so. Certain previous circumstances which he mentioned as having

impressed themselves on his memory, enabled him to feel sure of the truth of his assertion, without having

consulted his watch. He was pressed on this important point; but he held to his declaration. At halfpast eight

he had seen Mr. Dubourg hurriedly leave the field. At halfpast eight the watch of the murdered man had

No witness could be discovered who had seen anybody else near the place. Had the weapon turned up, with

which the blow had been struck? It had not been found. Was anyone known (robbery having plainly not been

the motive of the crime) to have entertained a grudge against the murdered man? It was no secret that he

associated with doubtful characters, male and female; but suspicion failed to point to any one of them in

In this state of things, there was no alternative but to request Mr. Dubourgwell known in, and out of the

town, as a young gentleman of independent fortune; bearing an excellent characterto give some account of

He immediately admitted that he had passed through the field. But in contradiction to the farmbailiff, he

declared that he had looked at his watch at the moment before he crossed the stile, and that the time by it was

exactly a quarter past eight. Five minutes laterthat is to say ten minutes before the murder had been

committed, on the evidence of the dead man's watchhe had paid a visit to a lady living near Pardon's Piece;

and had remained with her, until his watch, consulted once more on leaving the lady's house, informed him

Here was the defense called an "alibi." It entirely satisfied Mr. Dubourg's friends. To satisfy justice also, it

was necessary to call the lady as a witness. In the meantime, another purely formal question was put to Mr.

With some appearance of confusion, Mr. Dubourg admitted that he had been induced (by a friend) to employ

the man on some work. Further interrogation extracted from him the following statement of facts.

That the work had been very badly donethat an exorbitant price had been charged for itthat the man, on

being remonstrated with, had behaved in a grossly impertinent mannerthat an altercation had taken place

between themthat Mr. Dubourg had seized the man by the collar of his coat, and had turned him out of the

housethat he had called the man an infernal scoundrel (being in a passion at the time), and had threatened

to "thrash him within an inch of his life" (or words to that effect) if he ever presumed to come near the house

again; that he had sincerely regretted his own violence the moment he recovered his selfpossession; and,

lastly, that, on his oath (the altercation having occurred six weeks ago), he had never spoken to the man, or

As the matter then stood, these circumstances were considered as being unfortunate circumstances for Mr.

Dubourgnothing more. He had his "alibi" to appeal to, and his character to appeal to; and nobody doubted

Confronted with Mr. Dubourg on the question of time, and forced to answer, she absolutely contradicted him,

on the testimony of the clock on her own mantelpiece. In substance, her evidence was simply this. She had

looked at her clock, when Mr. Dubourg entered the room; thinking it rather a late hour for a visitor to call on

her. The clock (regulated by the maker, only the day before) pointed to twentyfive minutes to nine. Practical

experiment showed that the time required to walk the distance, at a rapid pace, from the stile to the lady's

house, was just five minutes. Here then was the statement of the farmbailiff (himself a respectable witness)

corroborated by another witness of excellent position and character. The clock, on being examined next, was

found to be right. The evidence of the clockmaker proved that he kept the key, and that there had been no

necessity to set the clock and wind it up again, since he had performed both those acts on the day preceding

Mr. Dubourg's visit. The accuracy of the clock thus vouched for, the conclusion on the evidence was

irresistible. Mr. Dubourg stood convicted of having been in the field at the time when the murder was

committed; of having, by his own admission, had a quarrel with the murdered man, not long before,

terminating in an assault and a threat on his side; and, lastly, of having attempted to set up an alibi by a false

statement of the question of time. There was no alternative but to commit him to take his trial at the Assizes,

No new facts of importance were discovered in the interval. The evidence followed the course which it had

taken at the preliminary examinationswith this difference only, that it was more carefully sifted. Mr.

Dubourg had the double advantage of securing the services of the leading barrister on the circuit, and of

moving the irrepressible sympathies of the jury, shocked at his position and eager for proof of his innocence.

By the end of the first day, the evidence had told against him with such irresistible force, that his own counsel

despaired of the result. When the prisoner took his place in the dock on the second day, there was but one

conviction in the minds of the people in courteverybody said, The clock will hang him."

It was nearly two in the afternoon; and the proceedings were on the point of being adjourned for half an hour,

when the attorney for the prisoner was seen to hand a paper to the counsel for the defense.

The counsel rose, showing signs of agitation which roused the curiosity of the audience. He demanded the

immediate hearing of a new witness; whose evidence in the prisoner's favor he declared to be too important to

be delayed for a single moment. After a short colloquy between the judge and the banisters on either side, the

The witness, appearing in the box, proved to be a young woman, in delicate health. On the evening when the

prisoner had paid his visit to the lady, she was in that lady's service as housemaid. The day after, she had been

permitted (by previous arrangement with her mistress) to take a week's holiday, and to go on a visit to her

parents, in the west of Cornwall. While there, she had fallen ill, and had not been strong enough since to

return to her employment. Having given this preliminary account of herself, the housemaid then stated the

On the morning of the day when Mr. Dubourg had called at the house, she had been cleaning the mantelpiece.

She had rubbed the part of it which was under the clock with her duster, had accidentally struck the

pendulum, and had stopped it. Having once before done this, she had been severely reproved. Fearing that a

repetition of the offense, only the day after the clock had been regulated by the maker, might lead perhaps to

the withdrawal of her leave of absence, she had determined to put matters right again, if possible, by herself.

After poking under the clock in the dark, and failing to set the pendulum going again properly in that way,

she next attempted to lift the clock, and give it a shake. It was set in a marble case, with a bronze figure on

the top; and it was so heavy that she was obliged to hunt for something which she could use as a lever. The

thing proved to be not easy to find on the spur of the moment. Having at last laid her hand on what she

wanted, she contrived so to lift the clock a few inches and drop it again on the mantelpiece, as to set it going

The next necessity was of course to move the hands on. Here again she was met by an obstacle. There was a

difficulty in opening the glasscase which protected the dial. After uselessly searching for some instrument to

help her, she got from the footman (without telling him what she wanted it for) a small chisel. With this, she

opened the caseafter accidentally scratching the brass frame of itand set the hands of the clock by guess.

She was flurried at the time; fearing that her mistress would discover her. Later in the day, she found that she

had overestimated the interval of time that had passed while she was trying to put the clock right. She had,

No safe opportunity of secretly putting the clock right again had occurred, until the last thing at night. She

had then moved the hands back to the right time. At the hour of the evening when Mr. Dubourg had called on

her mistress, she positively swore that the clock was a quarter of an hour too fast. It had pointed, as her

mistress had declared, to twentyfive minutes to ninethe right time then being, as Mr. Dubourg had

Questioned why she had refrained from giving this extraordinary evidence at the inquiry before the

magistrate, she declared that in the remote Cornish village to which she had gone the next day, and in which

her illness had detained her from that time, nobody had heard of the inquiry or the trial. She would not have

been then present to state the vitally important circumstances to which she had just sworn, if the prisoner's

twinbrother had not found her out on the previous dayhad not questioned her if she knew anything about

the clockand had not (hearing what she had to tell) insisted on her taking the journey with him to the court

This evidence virtually decided the trial. There was a great burst of relief in the crowded assembly when the

She was closely crossexamined as a matter of course. Her character was inquired into; corroborative

evidence (relating to the chisel and the scratches on the frame) was sought for and was obtained. The end of it

was that, at a late hour on the second evening, the jury acquitted the prisoner, without leaving their box. It

was not too much to say that his life had been saved by his brother. His brother alone had persisted, from first

to last, in obstinately disbelieving the clockfor no better reason than that the clock was the witness which

asserted the prisoner's guilt! He had worried everybody with incessant inquirieshe had discovered the

absence of the housemaid, after the trial had begunand he had started off to interrogate the girl, knowing

nothing, and suspecting nothing; simply determined to persist in the one everlasting question with which he

persecuted everybody belonging to the house: "The clock is going to hang my brother; can you tell me

Four months later, the mystery of the crime was cleared up. One of the disreputable companions of the

murdered man confessed on his deathbed that he had done the deed. There was nothing interesting or

remarkable in the circumstances. Chance which had put innocence in peril, had offered impunity to guilt. An

infamous woman; a jealous quarrel; and an absence at the moment of witnesses on the spotthese were

really the commonplace materials which had composed the tragedy of Pardon's Piece.

"You have forced it out of me. Now you have had your way, never mind my feelingsGo!"

Those were the first words the Hero of the Trial said to me, when he was able to speak again! He withdrew

with a curious sullen resignation to the farther end of the room. There he stood looking at me, as a man might

have looked who carried some contagion about him, and who wished to preserve a healthy fellowcreature

"You are a bold woman," he said, "to remain in the same room with a man who has been pointed at as a

The same unhealthy state of mind which had brought him to Dimchurch, and which had led him to speak to

me as he had spoken on the previous evening, was, as I understood it, now irritating him against me as a

person who had made his own quick temper the means of entrapping him into letting out the truth. How was I

to deal with a man in this condition? I decided to perform the feat which you call in England, "taking the bull

"I see but one man here," I said. "A man honorably acquitted of a crime which he was incapable of

committing. A man who deserves my interest, and claims my sympathy. Shake hands, Mr. Dubourg."

I spoke to him in a good hearty voice, and I gave him a good hearty squeeze. The poor, weak, lonely,

persecuted young fellow dropped his head on my shoulder like a child, and burst out crying.

"Don't despise me!" he said, as soon as he had got his breath again. "It breaks a man down to have stood in

the dock, and to have had hundreds of hardhearted people staring at him in horrorwithout his deserving it.

We sat down again, side by side. He was the strangest compound of anomalies I had ever met with. Throw

him into one of those passions in which he flamed out so easilyand you would have said, This is a tiger.

Wait till he had cooled down again to his customary mild temperatureand you would have said with equal

"One thing rather surprises me, Mr. Dubourg," I went on. "I can't quite understand"

"Don't call me "Mr. Dubourg," he interposed. "You remind me of the disgrace which has forced me to change

my name. Call me by my Christian name. It's a foreign name. You are a foreigner by your accentyou will

like me all the better for having a foreign name. I was christened "Oscar"after my mother's brother: my

"In your present situation," I resumed, "I don't understand your brother leaving you here all by yourself."

"Not a word against my brother!" he exclaimed fiercely. "My brother is the noblest creature that God ever

created! You must own that yourselfyou know what he did at the trial. I should have died on the scaffold

(I admitted that his brother was an angel. The concession instantly pacified him.)

"People say there is no difference between us," he went on, drawing his chair companionably close to mine.

"Ah, people are so shallow! Personally, I grant you, we are exactly alike. (You have heard that we are twins?)

But there it ends, unfortunately for me. Nugent(my brother was christened Nugent after my

father)Nugent is a hero! Nugent is a genius. I should have died if he hadn't taken care of me after the trial.

I had nobody but him. We are orphans; we have no brothers or sisters. Nugent felt the disgrace even more

than I felt itbut he could control himself. It fell more heavily on him than it did on me. I'll tell you why.

Nugent was in a fair way to make our family namethe name that we have been obliged to dropfamous

all over the world. He is a paintera landscape painter. Have you never heard of him? Ah, you soon will!

Where do you think he has gone to? He has gone to the wilds of America, in search of new subjects. He is

going to found a school of landscape painting. On an immense scale. A scale that has never been attempted

yet. Dear fellow! Shall I tell you what he said when he left me here? Noble wordsI call them noble words.

'Oscar! I go to make our assumed name famous. You shall be honorably knownyou shall be illustrious, as

the brother of Nugent Dubourg.' Do you think I could stand in the way of such a career as that? After what he

has sacrificed for me, could I let Such a Man stagnate herefor no better purpose than to keep me company?

What does it matter about my feeling lonely? Who am I? Oh, if you had seen how he bore with the horrible

notoriety that followed us, after the trial! He was constantly stared at and pointed at, for me. Not a word of

complaint escaped him. He snapped his fingers at it. 'That for public opinion!' he said. What strength of

mindeh? From one place after another we moved and moved, and still there were the photographs, and the

newspapers, and the whole infamous story ('romance in real life,' they called it), known beforehand to

everybody. He never lost heart. 'We shall find a place yet' (that was the cheerful way he put it); 'you have

nothing to do with it, Oscar; you are safe in my hands; I promise you exactly the place of refuge you want.' It

was he who got all the information, and found out this lonely part of England where you live. I thought it

pretty as we wandered about the hillsit wasn't half grand enough for him. We lost ourselves. I began to feel

nervous. He didn't mind it a bit. "You have Me with you," he said; "My luck is always to be depended on.

Mark what I say! We shall stumble on a village!" You will hardly believe mein ten minutes more, we

stumbled, exactly as he had foretold, on this place. He didn't leave mewhen I had prevailed on him to

gowithout a recommendation. He recommended me to the landlord of the inn here. He said, "My brother is

delicate; my brother wishes to live in retirement; you will oblige me by looking after my brother." Wasn't it

kind? The landlord seemed to be quite affected by it. Nugent cried when he took leave of me. Ah, what would

I not give to have a heart like his and a mind like his! It's somethingisn't it?to have a face like him. I

often say that to myself when I look in the glass. Excuse my running on in this way. When I once begin to

One thing, at any rate, was plainly discernible in this otherwise inscrutable young man. He adored his

It would have been equally clear to me that Mr. Nugent Dubourg deserved to be worshipped, if I could have

reconciled to my mind his leaving his brother to shift for himself in such a place as Dimchurch. I was obliged

to remind myself of the admirable service which he had rendered at the trial, before I could decide to do him

the justice of suspending my opinion of him, in his absence. Having accomplished this act of magnanimity, I

took advantage of the first opportunity to change the subject. The most tiresome information that I am

acquainted with, is the information which tells us of the virtues of an absent personwhen that absent person

"Is it true that you have taken Browndown for six months?" I asked. "Are you really going to settle at

"Yesif you keep my secret," he answered. "The people here know nothing about me. Don't, pray don't, tell

"No! no! no!" he exclaimed eagerly. "I can't bear the idea of her knowing it. I have been so horribly

degraded. What will she think of me?" He burst into another explosion of rhapsodies on the subject of

Lucillamixed up with renewed petitions to me to keep his story concealed from everybody. I lost all

"Young Oscar, I should like to box your ears!" I said. "You are in a villainously unwholesome state about this

matter. Have you nothing else to think of? Have you no profession? Are you not obliged to work for your

I spoke, as you perceive, with some force of expressionaided by a corresponding asperity of voice and

Mr. Oscar Dubourg looked at me with the puzzled air of a man who feels an overflow of new ideas forcing

itself into his mind. He modestly admitted the degrading truth. From his childhood upwards, he had only to

put his hand in his pocket, and to find the money there, without any preliminary necessity of earning it first.

His father had been a fashionable portraitpainter, and had married one of his sittersan heiress. Oscar and

Nugent had been left in the detestable position of independent gentlemen. The dignity of labor was a dignity

unknown to these degraded young men. "I despise a wealthy idler," I said to Oscar, with my republican

severity. "You want the ennobling influence of labor to make a man of you. Nobody has a right to be

idlenobody has a right to be rich. You would be in a more wholesome state of mind about yourself, my

He stared at me piteously. The noble sentiments which I had inherited from Doctor Pratolungo, completely

"Don't be angry with me," he said, in his innocent way. "I couldn't eat my cheese, if I did earn it. I can't digest

cheese. Besides, I employ myself as much as I can." He took his little golden vase from the table behind him,

and told me what I had already heard him tell Lucilla while I was listening at the window. "You would have

found me at work this morning," he went on, "if the stupid people who send me my metal plates had not

made a mistake. The alloy, in the gold and silver both, is all wrong this time. I must return the plates to be

melted again before I can do anything with them. They are all ready to go back today, when the cart comes.

If there are any laboring people here who want money, I'm sure I will give them some of mine with the

greatest pleasure. It isn't my fault, ma'am, that my father married my mother. And how could I help it if he

Two thousand a year each to his brother and him! And the illustrious Pratolungo had never known what it

I lifted my eyes to the ceiling. In my righteous indignation, I forgot Lucilla and her curiosity about OscarI

forgot Oscar and his horror of Lucilla discovering who he was. I opened my lips to speak. In another moment

I should have launched my thunderbolts against the whole infamous system of modern society, when I was

silenced by the most extraordinary and unexpected interruption that ever closed a woman's lips.

THERE walked in, at the open door of the roomsoftly, suddenly, and composedlya chubby female

child, who could not possibly have been more than three years old. She had no hat or cap on her head. A dirty

pinafore covered her from her chin to her feet. This amazing apparition advanced into the middle of the room,

holding hugged under one arm a ragged and disreputablelooking doll; stared hard, first at Oscar, then at me;

advanced to my knees; laid the disreputable doll on my lap; and, pointing to a vacant chair at my side,

How was it possible, under these circumstances, to attack the infamous system of modern society? It was

Oscar burst out laughing. Like me, he now saw this mysterious young lady for the first time. Like me, he

wondered what the extraordinary nickname under which she had presented herself could possibly mean.

We looked at the child. The childwith its legs stretched out straight before it, terminating in a pair of little

dusty boots with holes in themlifted its large round eyes, overshadowed by a penthouse of unbrushed

flaxen hair; looked gravely at us in return; and made a second call on our hospitality, as follows:

While Oscar ran into the kitchen for some milk, I succeeded in discovering the identity of "Jicks."

SomethingI cannot well explain whatin the manner in which the child had drifted into the room with her

doll, reminded me of the lymphatic lady of the rectory, drifting backwards and forwards with the baby in one

hand and the novel in the other. I took the liberty of examining "Jicks's" pinafore, and discovered the mark in

one corner:"Selina Finch." Exactly as I had supposed, here was a member of Mrs. Finch's numerous

family. Rather a young member, as it struck me, to be wandering hatless round the environs of Dimchurch,

Oscar returned with the milk in a mug. The childinsisting on taking the mug into her own handssteadily

emptied it to the last droprecovered her breath with a gasplooked at me with a white mustache of milk

I deposited our young friend on the floor. She took her doll, and stood for a moment deep in thought. What

was she going to do next? We were not kept long in suspense. She suddenly put her little hot fat hand into

I suffered myself to be pulled out of the roomto see "ManGeegee," to play "ManGeegee," or to eat

"ManGeegee," it was impossible to tell which. I was pulled along the passageI was pulled out to the

front door. Therehaving approached the house inaudibly to us, over the grassstood the horse, cart, and

man, waiting to take the case of gold and silver plates back to London. I looked at Oscar, who had followed

me. We now understood, not only the masterly compound word of Jicks (signifying man and horse, and

passing over cart as unimportant), but the polite attention of Jicks in entering the house to inform us, after a

rest and a drink, of a circumstance which had escaped our notice. The driver of the cart had, on his own

acknowledgment, been investigated and questioned by this extraordinary child; strolling up to the door of

Browndown to see what he was doing there. Jicks was a public character at Dimchurch. The driver knew all

about her. She had been nicknamed "Gipsy" from her wandering habits, and had shortened the name in her

own dialect, into "Jicks." There was no keeping her in at the rectory, try how you might: they had long since

abandoned the effort in despair. Sooner or later, she turned up againor somebody brought her backor

one of the sheepdogs found her asleep under a bush, and gave the alarm. "What goes on in that child's

head," said the driver, regarding Jicks with a sort of superstitious admiration, "the Lord only knows. She has

a will of her own, and a way of her own. She is a child; and she aint a child. At three years of age, she's a

riddle none of us can guess. And that's the long and the short of what I know about her."

While this explanation was in progress, the carpenter who had nailed up the case, and the carpenter's son,

accompanying him, joined us in front of the house. They followed Oscar in, and came out again, bearing the

heavy burden of precious metalmore than one man could conveniently liftbetween them.

The case deposited in the cart, carpenter senior and carpenter junior got in after it, wanting "a lift" to

Carpenter senior, a big burly man, made a joke. "It's a lonely country between this and Brighton, sir," he said

to Oscar. Three of us will be none too many to see your precious packingcase safe into the railway station."

Oscar took it seriously. "Are there any robbers in this neighborhood?" he asked. "Lord love you, sir!" said the

driver, "robbers would starve in these parts; we have got nothing worth thieving here." Jicksstill watching

the proceedings with an interest which allowed no detail to escape unnoticedassumed the responsibility of

starting the men on their journey. The odd child waved her chubby hand imperiously to her friend the driver,

and cried in her loudest voice, "Away!" The driver touched his hat with comic respect. "All right,

misstime's money, aint it?" He cracked his whip, and the cart rolled off noiselessly over the thick close turf

It was time for me to go back to the rectory, and to restore the wandering Jicks, for the time being, to the

"You will be as free as I am to come and to go at the rectory," I answered, "when they know what has passed

this morning between you and me. In your own interests, I am determined to tell them who you are. You have

nothing to fear, and everything to gain, by my speaking out. Clear your mind of fancies and suspicions that

are unworthy of you. By tomorrow we shall be good neighbors; by the end of the week we shall be good

I turned to take Jicks by the hand. While I had been speaking to Oscar the child had slipped away from me.

Before we could stir a step to search for our lost Gipsy, her voice reached our ears, raised shrill and angry in

We turned the corner, and discovered two shabby strangers, resting themselves against the side wall of the

house. Their cadaverous faces, their brutish expressions, and their frowzy clothes, proclaimed them, to my

eye, as belonging to the vilest blackguard type that the civilized earth has yet producedthe blackguard of

London growth. There they lounged, with their hands in their pockets and their backs against the wall, as if

they were airing themselves on the outer side of a publichouseand there stood Jicks, with her legs planted

wide apart on the turf, asserting the rights of property (even at that early age!) and ordering the rascals off.

One of the men appeared to be on the point of making an insolent answer. The otherthe younger and the

"We've had a longish walk, sir," said the fellow, with an impudent assumption of humility; "and we've took

the liberty of resting our backs against your wall, and feasting our eyes on the beauty of your young lady

He pointed to the child. Jicks shook her fist at him, and ordered him off more fiercely than ever.

"There's an inn in the village," said Oscar. "Rest there, if you pleasemy house is not an inn."

The elder man made a second effort to speak, beginning with an oath. The younger checked him again.

"Shut up, Jim!" said the superior blackguard of the two. "The gentleman recommends the tap at the inn.

Come and drink the gentleman's health." He turned to the child, and took off his hat to her with a low bow.

"Wish you good morning, Miss! You're just the style, you are, that I admire. Please don't engage yourself to

His savage companion was so tickled by this delicate pleasantry that he burst suddenly into a roar of laughter.

Arm in arm, the two ruffians walked off together in the direction of the village. Our funny little Jicks became

a tragic and terrible Jicks, all on a sudden. The child resented the insolence of the two men as if she really

understood it. I never saw so young a creature in such a furious passion before. She picked up a stone, and

threw it at them before I could stop her. She screamed, and stamped her tiny feet alternately on the ground,

till she was purple in the face. She threw herself down, and rolled in fury on the grass. Nothing pacified her

but a rash promise of Oscar's (which he was destined to hear of for many a long day afterwards) to send for

the police, and to have the two men soundly beaten for daring to laugh at Jicks. She got up from the ground,

and dried her eyes with her knuckles, and fixed a warning look on Oscar. "Mind!" said this curious child,

with her bosom still heaving under the dirty pinafore, "the men are to be beaten. And Jicks is to see it."

I said nothing to Oscar, at the time, but I felt some secret uneasiness on the way homean uneasiness

It was impossible to say how long they might have been lurking about the outside of the house, before the

child discovered them. They might have heard, through the open window, what Oscar had said to me on the

subject of his plates of precious metal; and they might have seen the heavy packingcase placed in the cart. I

felt no apprehension about the safe arrival of the case at Brighton; the three men in the cart were men enough

to take good care of it. My fears were for the future. Oscar was living, entirely by himself, in a lonely house,

more than half a mile distant from the village. His fancy for chasing in the precious metals might have its

dangers, as well as its attractions, if it became known beyond the pastoral limits of Dimchurch. Advancing

from one suspicion to another, I asked myself if the two men had roamed by mere accident into our remote

part of the worldor whether they had deliberately found their way to Browndown with a purpose in view.

Having this doubt in my mind, and happening to encounter the old nurse, Zillah, in the garden as I entered the

rectory gates with my little charge, I put the question to her plainly, "Do you see many strangers at

"Strangers?" repeated the old woman. "Excepting yourself, ma'am, we see no strangers here, from one year's

I determined to say a warning word to Oscar before his precious metals were sent back to Browndown.

"I wanted you of all things," she said. "I have sent all over the house in search of you. Where have you

"You have persuaded him to trust youyou have discovered everything. You only said 'I have been at

She never movedshe seemed hardly to breathewhile I was telling her all that had passed at the interview

between Oscar and me. As soon as I had done, she got up in a violent hurryflushed and eagerand made

I begged her to wait a moment, and hear a word or two that I had to say. It is, I suppose, almost needless to

add that my object in speaking to her was to protest against the glaring impropriety of her paying a second

visit, in one day, to a man who was a stranger to her. I declared, in the plainest terms, that such a proceeding

would be sufficient, in the estimation of any civilized community, to put her reputation in peril. The result of

my interference was curious and interesting in the extreme. It showed me that the virtue called Modesty (I am

not speaking of Decency, mind) is a virtue of purely artificial growth; and that the successful cultivation of it

depends in the first instance, not on the influence of the tongue, but on the influence of the eye.

Suppose the case of an average young lady (conscious of feeling a first love) to whom I might have spoken in

She would assuredly have shown some natural and pretty confusion, and would, in all human probability,

have changed color more or less while she was listening to me. Lucilla's charming face revealed but one

expressionan expression of disappointment, slightly mixed perhaps with surprise. I believed her to be then,

what I knew her to be afterwards, as pure a creature as ever walked the earth. And yet, of the natural and

becoming confusion, of the little inevitable feminine changes of color which I had expected to see, not so

much as a vestige appearedand this, remember, in the case of a person of unusually sensitive and

impulsive nature: quick, on the most trifling occasions, to feel and to express its feeling in no ordinary

It meant that here was one strange side shown to me of the terrible affliction that darkened her life. It meant

that modesty is essentially the growth of our own consciousness of the eyes of others judging usand that

blindness is never bashful, for the one simple reason that blindness cannot see. The most modest girl in

existence is bolder with her lover in the dark than in the light. The female model who "sits" for the first time

in a drawing academy, and who shrinks from the ordeal, is persuaded, in the last resort, to enter the students'

room by having a bandage bound over her eyes. My poor Lucilla had always the bandage over her eyes. My

poor Lucilla was never to meet her lover in the light. She had grown up with the passions of a womanand

yet, she had never advanced beyond the fearless and primitive innocence of a child. Ah, if ever there was a

sacred charge confided to any mortal creature, here surely was a sacred charge confided to Me! I could not

endure to see the poor pretty blind face turned so insensibly towards mine, after such words as I had just said

to her. She was standing within my reach. I took her by the arm, and made her sit on my knee. "My dear!" I

"I have got so much to say to him," she answered impatiently, "I want to tell him how deeply I feel for him,

"My dear Lucilla! you can't say this to a young man. It is as good as telling him, in plain words, that you are

"Hush! hush! Keep it to yourself, until you are sure that he is fond of you. It is the man's place, my lovenot

"That is very hard on the women. If they feel it first, they ought to own it first." She paused for a moment,

considering with herselfand abruptly got off my knee. "I must speak to him!" she burst out. "I must tell him

that I have heard his story, and that I think all the better of him after it, instead of the worse!"

She was again on her way to get her hat. My only chance of stopping her was to invent a compromise.

"Write him a note," I saidand then suddenly remembered that she was blind. "You shall dictate," I added;

"and I will hold the pen. Be content with that for today. For my sake, Lucilla!"

She yieldednot very willingly, poor thing. But she jealously declined to let me hold the pen.

"My first note to him must be all written by me," she said. "I can writein my own roundabout way. It's

She led the way to a writingtable in a corner of the room, and sat for awhile with the pen in her hand,

thinking. Her irresistible smile broke suddenly like a glow of light over her "Ah!" she exclaimed, "I know

Guiding the pen in her right hand with the fingers of her left she wrote slowly, in large childish characters,

these words:DEAR MR. OSCAR,I have heard all about you. Please send the little gold vase.Your

She enclosed and directed the letter, and clapped her hands for joy. "He will know what that means!" she said

It was useless to attempt making a second remonstrance. I rang the bell, under protest (imagine her receiving

a present from a gentleman to whom she had spoken for the first time that morning!)and the groom was

sent off to Browndown with the letter. In making this concession, I privately said to myself, "I shall keep a

The interval before the return of the groom was not an easy interval to fill up. I proposed some music. Lucilla

was still too full of her new interest to be able to give her attention to anything else. She suddenly

remembered that her father and her stepmother ought both to be informed that Mr. Dubourg was a perfectly

On this occasion, she made no difficulty about permitting me to hold the pen, while she told me what to

write. We produced between us rather a flighty, enthusiastic, highflown sort of letter. I felt by no means sure

that we should raise a favorable impression of our new neighbor in the mind of Reverend Finch. That was,

however, not my affair. I appeared to excellent advantage in the matter, as the judicious foreign lady who had

insisted on making inquiries. For the rest, it was a point of honor with mewriting for a person who was

blindnot to change a single word in the sentences which Lucilla dictated to me. The letter completed, I

wrote the address of the house in Brighton at which Mr. Finch then happened to be staying; and I was next

I wondered why the envelope was to be left open, and why Lucilla looked a little confused when she forbade

me to close it. Another unexpected revelation of the influence of their affliction on the natures of the blind,

After consultation between us, it had been decided, at Lucilla's express request, that I should inform Mrs.

Finch that the mystery at Browndown was now cleared up. Lucilla openly owned to having no great relish for

the society of her stepmother, or for the duty invariably devolving on anybody who was long in the

company of that fertile lady, of either finding her handkerchief or holding her baby. A duplicate key of the

door of communication between the two sides of the house was given to me; and I left the room.

Before performing my errand, I went for a minute into my bedchamber to put away my hat and parasol.

Returning into the corridor, and passing the door of the sittingroom, I found that it had been left ajar by

some one who had entered after I had left; and I heard Lucilla's voice say, "Take that letter out of the

I pursued my way along the passagevery slowly, I ownand I heard the first sentences of the letter which

I had written under Lucilla's dictation, read aloud to her in the old nurse's voice. The incurable suspicion of

the blindalways abandoned to the same melancholy distrust of the persons about them; always doubting

whether some deceit is not being practiced on them by the happy people who can seehad urged Lucilla,

even in the trifling matter of the letter, to put me to the test, behind my back. She was using Zillah's eyes to

make sure that I had really written all that she had dictated to meexactly as, on many an after occasion, she

used my eyes to make sure of Zillah's complete performance of tasks allotted to her in the house. No

experience of the faithful devotion of those who live with them ever thoroughly satisfies the blind. Ah, poor

In opening the door of communication, it appeared as if I had also opened all the doors of all the

bedchambers in the rectory. The moment I stepped into the passage, out popped the children from one room

The rabbits answered by one universal shriek, and popped back again into their burrows.

I went down the stairs to try my luck on the ground floor. The window on the landing had a view over the

front garden. I looked out, and saw the irrepressible Arab of the family, our small chubby Jicks, wandering in

the garden, all by herself; evidently on the watch for her next opportunity of escaping from the house. This

curious little creature cared nothing for the society of the other children. Indoors, she sat gravely retired in

corners, taking her meals (whenever she could) on the floor. Out of doors, she roamed till she could walk no

longer, and then lay down anywhere, like a little animal, to sleep. She happened to look up as I stood at the

window. Seeing me, she waved her hand indicatively in the direction of the rectory gate. "What is it?" I

At the same moment, the screaming of a baby below, informed me that I was in the near neighborhood of

I advanced towards the noise, and found myself standing before the open door of a large storeroom at the

extreme end of the passage. In the middle of the room (issuing household commodities to the cook) sat Mrs.

Finch. She was robed this time in a petticoat and a shawl; and she had the baby and the novel laid together

"Eight pounds of soap? Where does it all go to I wonder!" groaned Mrs. Finch to the accompaniment of the

baby's screams. "Five pounds of soda for the laundry? One would think we did the washing for the whole

village. Six pounds of candles? You must eat candles, like the Russians: who ever heard of burning six

pounds of candles in a week? Ten pounds of sugar? Who gets it all? I never taste sugar from one year's end to

another. Waste, nothing but waste." Here Mrs. Finch looked my way, and saw me at the door. "Oh? Madame

Pratolungo? How d'ye do? Don't go awayI've just done. A bottle of blacking? My shoes are a disgrace to

the house. Five pounds of rice? If I had Indian servants, five pounds of rice would last them for a year. There!

take the things away into the kitchen. Excuse my dress, Madame Pratolungo. How am I to dress, with all I

have got to do? What do you say? My time must indeed be fully occupied? Ah, that's just where it is! When

you have lost half an hour in the morning, and can't pick it up againto say nothing of having the

storeroom on your mind, and the children's dinner late, and the baby fractiousone slips on a petticoat and

a shawl, and gives it up in despair. What can I have done with my handkerchief? Would you mind looking

among those bottles behind you? Oh, here it is, under the baby. Might I trouble you to hold my book for one

moment? I think the baby will be quieter if I put him the other way." Here Mrs. Finch turned the baby over on

his stomach, and patted him briskly on the back. At this change in his circumstances, the unappeasable infant

only roared louder than ever. His mother appeared to be perfectly unaffected by the noise. This resigned

domestic martyr looked placidly up at me, as I stood before her, bewildered, with the novel in my hand. "Ah,

that's a very interesting story," she went on. "Plenty of love in it, you know. You have come for it, haven't

you? I remember I promised to lend it to you yesterday." Before I could answer the cook appeared again, in

search of more household commodities. Mrs. Finch repeated the woman's demands, one by one as she made

them, in tones of despair. "Another bottle of vinegar? I believe you water the garden with vinegar! More

starch? The Queen's washing, I'm firmly persuaded, doesn't come to so much as ours. Sandpaper? Sandpaper

means wastepaper in this profligate house. I shall tell your master. I really can NOT make the housekeeping

money last at this rate. Don't go, Madame Pratolungo! I shall have done directly. What! You must go! Oh,

then, put the book back on my lap, pleaseand look behind that sack of flour. The first volume slipped down

there this morning, and I haven't had time to pick it up since. (Sandpaper! Do you think I'm made of

sandpaper!) Have you found the first volume? Ah, that's it. All over flour! there's a hole in the sack I suppose.

Twelve sheets of sandpaper used in a week! What for? I defy any of you to tell me what for. Waste! waste!

shameful sinful waste!" At this point in Mrs. Finch's lamentations, I made my escape with the book, and left

the subject of Oscar Dubourg to be introduced at a fitter opportunity. The last words I heard, through the

screams of the baby, as I ascended the stairs, were words still relating to the week's prodigal consumption of

sandpaper. Let us drop a tear, if you please, over the woes of Mrs. Finch, and leave the British matron

I had just related to Lucilla the failure of my expedition to the other side of the house, when the groom

Oscar's answer was judiciously modeled to imitate the brevity of Lucilla's note. "You have made me a happy

man again. When may I follow the vase?" There, in two sentences, was the whole letter.

I had another discussion with Lucilla, relating to the propriety of our receiving Oscar in Reverend Finch's

absence. It was only possible to persuade her to wait until she had at least heard from her father, by

consenting to take another walk towards Browndown the next morning. This new concession satisfied her.

She had received his present; she had exchanged letters with himthat was enough to content her for the

"Do you think he is getting fond of me?" she asked, the last thing at night; taking her gold vase to bed with

her, poor dearexactly as she might have taken a new toy to bed with her when she was a child. "Give him

time, my love," I answered. "It isn't everybody who can travel at your pace in such a serious matter as this."

My banter had no effect upon her. "Go away with your candle," she said. "The darkness makes no difference

to me. I can see him in my thoughts." She nestled her head comfortably on the pillows, and tapped me saucily

on the cheek, as I bent over her. "Own the advantage I have over you now," she said. "You can't see at night

without your candle. I could go all over the house, at this moment, without making a false step anywhere."

When I left her that night, I sincerely believe "poor Miss Finch" was the happiest woman in England.

The old nurse, Zillah, was taken ill in the night. She was so little relieved by such remedies as we were able

to apply, that it became necessary to summon the doctor in the morning. He lived at some distance from

Dimchurch; and he had to send back to his own house for the medicines required. As a necessary result of

these delays, it was close on one o'clock in the afternoon before the medical remedies had their effect, and the

nurse was sufficiently recovered to permit of our leaving her in the servant's care.

We had dressed for our walk (Lucilla being ready long before I was), and had got as far as the garden gate on

our way to Browndownwhen we heard, on the other side of the wall, a man's voice, pitched in superbly

"Believe me, my dear sir, there is not the least difficulty. I have only to send the cheque to my bankers at

The key of the gate was in my possession. "What a grand voice your father has got!" I said, as I took the key

out of my pocket. I opened the gate. There, confronting us on the threshold, arm in arm, as if they had known

Reverend Finch opened the proceedings by folding his daughter affectionately in his arms.

"My dear child!" he said, "I received your letteryour most interesting letterthis morning. The moment I

read it I felt that I owed a duty to Mr. Dubourg. As pastor of Dimchurch, it was clearly incumbent on me to

comfort a brother in affliction. I really felt, so to speak, a longing to hold out the right hand of friendship to

this sorelytried man. I borrowed my friend's carriage, and drove straight to Browndown. We have had a long

and cordial talk. I have brought Mr. Dubourg home with me. He must be one of us. My dear child, Mr.

Dubourg must be one of us. Let me introduce you. My eldest daughterMr. Dubourg."

He performed the ceremony of presentation, with the most impenetrable gravity, as if he really believed that

Never had I set my eyes on a meanerlooking man than this rector. In height he barely reached up to my

shoulder. In substance, he was so miserably lean that he looked the living picture of starvation. He would

have made his fortune in the streets of London, if he had only gone out and shown himself to the public in

ragged clothes. His face was deeply pitted with the smallpox. His short grisly hair stood up stiff and straight

on his head like hair fixed in a broom. His small whitishgrey eyes had a restless, inquisitive, hungry look in

them, indescribably irritating and uncomfortable to see. The one personal distinction he possessed consisted

in his magnificent bass voicea voice which had no sort of right to exist in the person who used it. Until one

became accustomed to the contrast, there was something perfectly unbearable in hearing those superb big

tones come out of that contemptible little body. The famous Latin phrase conveys, after all, the best

description I can give of Reverend Finch. He was in very truthVoice, and nothing else.

"Madame Pratolungo, no doubt?" he went on, turning to me. "Delighted to make the acquaintance of my

daughter's judicious companion and friend. You must be one of uslike Mr. Dubourg. Let me introduce

you. Madame PratolungoMr. Dubourg. This is the old side of the rectory, my dear sir. We had it put in

repairlet me see: how long since?we had it put in repair just after Mrs. Finch's last confinement but

one." (I soon discovered that Mr. Finch reckoned time by his wife's confinements.) "You will find it very

curious and interesting inside. Lucilla, my child! (It has pleased Providence, Mr. Dubourg, to afflict my

daughter with blindness. Inscrutable Providence!) Lucilla, this is your side of the house. Take Mr. Dubourg's

arm, and lead the way. Do the honors, my child. Madame Pratolungo, let me offer you my arm. I regret that I

was not present, when you arrived, to welcome you at the rectory. Consider yourselfdo pray consider

yourselfone of us." He stopped, and lowered his prodigious voice to a confidential growl. "Delightful

person, Mr. Dubourg. I can't tell you how pleased I am with him. And what a sad story! Cultivate Mr.

He said this with an appearance of the deepest anxietyand more, he emphasized it by affectionately

I have met with a great many audacious people in my time. But the audacity of Reverend Finchpersisting

to our faces in the assumption that he had been the first to discover our neighbor, and that Lucilla and I were

perfectly incapable of understanding and appreciating Oscar, unassisted by himwas entirely without a

parallel in my experience. I asked myself what his conduct in this matterso entirely unexpected by Lucilla,

as well as by mecould possibly mean. My knowledge of his character, obtained through his daughter, and

my memory of what we heard him say on the other side of the wall, suggested that his conduct might

The only person among us who was quite at his ease was Mr. Finch. He never let his daughter and his guest

alone for a single moment. "My child, show Mr. Dubourg this; show Mr. Dubourg that. Mr. Dubourg, my

daughter possesses this; my daughter possesses that." So he went on, all round the room. Oscar appeared to

feel a little daunted by the overwhelming attentions of his new friend. Lucilla was, as I could see, secretly

irritated at finding herself authorized by her father to pay those attentions to Oscar which she would have

preferred offering to him of her own accord. As for me, I was already beginning to weary of the patronizing

politeness of the little priest with the big voice. It was a relief to us all, when a message on domestic affairs

arrived in the midst of the proceedings from Mrs. Finch, requesting to see her husband immediately on the

Forced to leave us, Reverend Finch made his farewell speech; taking Oscar's hand into a kind of paternal

custody in both his own hands. He spoke with such sonorous cordiality, that the china and glass ornaments on

Lucilla's chiffonier actually jingled an accompaniment to his booming bass notes.

"Come to tea, my dear sir. Without ceremony. Tonight at six. We must keep up your spirits, Mr. Dubourg.

Cheerful society, and a little music. Lucilla, my dear child, you will play for Mr. Dubourg, won't you?

Madame Pratolungo will do the sameat My requestI am sure. We shall make even dull Dimchurch

agreeable to our new neighbor before we have done. What does the poet say? 'Fixed to no spot is happiness

sincere; 'tis nowhere to be found, or everywhere.' How cheering! how true! Good day; good day."

The glasses left off jingling. Mr. Finch's wizen little legs took him out of the room.

The moment his back was turned, we both assailed Oscar with the same question. What had passed at the

interview between the rector and himself? Men are all alike incompetent to satisfy women, when the question

between the sexes is a question of small details. A woman, in Oscar's position, would have been able to relate

to us, not only the whole conversation with the rector, but every little trifling incident which had noticeably

illustrated it. As things were, we could only extract from our unsatisfactory man the barest outline of the

Oscar had, on his own confession, acknowledged his visitor's kindness, by opening his whole heart to the

sympathizing rector, and placing that wary priest and excellent man of business in possession of the

completest knowledge of all his affairs. In return, Reverend Finch had spoken in the frankest manner, on his

side. He had drawn a sad picture of the povertystricken condition of Dimchurch, viewed as an ecclesiastical

endowment; and he had spoken in such feeling terms of the neglected condition of the ancient and interesting

church, that poor simple Oscar, smitten with pity, had produced his chequebook, and had subscribed on the

spot towards the Fund for repairing the ancient round tower. They had been still occupied with the subject of

the tower and the subscription, when we had opened the garden gate and had let them in. Hearing this, I now

understood the motives under which our reverend friend was acting as well as if they had been my own. It

was plain to my mind that the rector had taken his financial measure of Oscar, and had privately satisfied

himself, that if he encouraged the two young people in cultivating each other's society, money (to use his own

phrase) might come of it. He had, as I believed, put forward "the round tower," in the first instance, as a

feeler; and he would follow it up, in due time, by an appeal of a more personal nature to Oscar's wellfilled

purse. Brief, he was, in my opinion, quite sharp enough (after having studied his young friend's character) to

foresee an addition to his income, rather than a subtraction from it, if the relations between Oscar and his

Whether Lucilla arrived, on her side, at the same conclusion as mine, is what I cannot venture positively to

declare. I can only relate that she looked ill at ease as the facts came out; and that she took the first

As for Oscar, it was enough for him that he had already secured his place as friend of the house. He took

leave of us in the highest spirits. I had my eye on them when he and Lucilla said goodbye. She squeezed his

hand. I saw her do it. At the rate at which things were now going on, I began to ask myself whether Reverend

Finch would not appear at teatime in his robes of office, and celebrate the marriage of his "sorelytried"

At our little social assembly in the evening, nothing passed worthy of much remark.

Lucilla and I (I cannot resist recording this) were both beautifully dressed, in honor of the occasion; Mrs.

Finch serving us to perfection, by way of contrast. She had made an immense effortshe was half dressed.

Her evening costume was an ancient green silk skirt (with traces of past babies visible on it to an experienced

eye), topped by the everlasting blue merino jacket. "I lose everything belonging to me," Mrs. Finch

whispered in my ear. "I have got a body to this dress, and it can't be found anywhere." The rector's prodigious

voice was never silent: the pompous and plausible little man talked, talked, talked, in deeper and deeper bass,

until the very teacups on the table shuddered under the influence of him. The elder children, admitted to the

family festival, ate till they could eat no more; stared till they could stare no more; yawned till they could

yawn no moreand then went to bed. Oscar got on well with everybody. Mrs. Finch was naturally interested

in him as one of twinsthough she was also surprised and disappointed at hearing that his mother had begun

and ended with his brother and himself. As for Lucilla, she sat in silent happiness, absorbed in the

inexhaustible delight of hearing Oscar's voice. She found as many varieties of expression in listening to her

beloved tones, as the rest of us find in looking at our beloved face. We had music later in the eveningand I

then heard, for the first time, how charmingly Lucilla played. She was a born musician, with a delicacy and

subtlety of touch such as few even of the greatest virtuosi possess. Oscar was enchanted. In a word, the

I contrived, when our guest took his departure, to say my contemplated word to him in private, on the subject

Those doubts of Oscar's security in his lonely house, which I have described as having been suggested to me

by the discovery of the two ruffians lurking under the wall, still maintained their place in my mind; and still

urged me to warn him to take precautions of some sort, before the precious metals which he had sent to

London to be melted, came back to him again. He gave me the opportunity I wanted, by looking at his watch,

and apologizing for protracting his visit to a terribly late hour, for the countrythe hour of midnight.

"Is your servant sitting up for you?" I asked, assuming to be ignorant of his domestic arrangements.

"This is my only servant at Browndown," he said. "By four or five in the afternoon, the people at the inn have

done all for me that I want. After that time, there is nobody in the house but myself."

He shook hands with us. The rector escorted him as far as the front door. I slipped out while they were saying

He began to talk of Lucilla directly. I surprised him by returning abruptly to the subject of his position at

"Do you think it's wise," I asked, "to be all by yourself at night in such a lonely house as yours? Why don't

"I detest strange servants," he answered. "I infinitely prefer being by myself."

"In a week's time then," I said, "you will have seventy or eighty pounds' worth of property at Browndown.

Property which a thief need only put into the meltingpot, to have no fear of its being traced into his hands."

"What can you be thinking of!" he asked. "There are no thieves in this primitive place."

"There are thieves in other places," I answered. "And they may come here. Have you forgotten those two men

"It was not we who caught them," he said. "It was that strange child. What do you say to my having Jicks to

"I am not joking," I rejoined. "I never met with two more illlooking villains in my life. The window was

open when you were telling me about the necessity for melting the plates again. They may know as well as

"What an imagination you have got!" he exclaimed. "You see a couple of shabby excursionists from

wandered to Dimchurchand you instantly transform them into a pair of housebreakers in a conspiracy to

rob and murder me! You and my brother Nugent would just suit each other. His imagination runs away with

"Take my advice," I answered gravely. "Don't persist in sleeping at Browndown without a living creature in

He was in wild good spirits. He kissed my hand, and thanked me in his voluble exaggerated way for the

interest that I took in him. "All right!" he said, as he opened the gate. "I'll have a living creature in the house

We parted. I had told him what was on my mind. I could do no more. After all, it might be quite possible that

During that interval, we saw our new neighbor constantly. Either Oscar came to the rectory, or we went to

Browndown. Reverend Finch waited, with a masterly assumption of suspecting nothing, until the relations

between the two young people were ripe enough to develop into relations of acknowledged love. They were

already (under Lucilla's influence) advancing rapidly to that point. You are not to blame my poor blind girl, if

you please, for frankly encouraging the man she loved. He was the most backward manviewed as a

suitorwhom I ever met with. The fonder he grew of her, the more timid and selfdistrustful he became. I

own I don't like a modest man; and I cannot honestly say that Mr. Oscar Dubourg, on closer acquaintance,

advanced himself much in my estimation. However, Lucilla understood him, and that was enough. She was

determined to have the completest possible image of him in her mind. Everybody in the house who had seen

him (the children included) she examined and crossexamined on the subject of his personal appearance, as

she had already examined and crossexamined me. His features and his color, his height and his breadth; his

ornaments and his clotheson all these points she collected evidence, in every direction and in the smallest

detail. It was an especial relief and delight to her to hear, on all sides, that his complexion was fair. There was

no reasoning with her against her blind horror of dark shades of color, whether seen in men, women, or

"I have the strangest instincts of my own about some things," she said to me one day. "For instance, I knew

that Oscar was bright and fairI mean I felt it in myselfon that delightful evening when I first heard the

sound of his voice. It went straight from my ear to my heart; and it described him, just as the rest of you have

described him to me since. Mrs. Finch tells me his complexion is lighter than mine. Do you think so too? I

am so glad to hear that he is fairer than I am! Did you ever meet before with a person like me? I have the

oddest ideas in this blind head of mine. I associate life and beauty with light colors, and death and crime with

dark colors. If I married a man with a dark complexion, and if I recovered my sight afterwards, I should run

This singular prejudice of hers against dark people was a little annoying to me on personal grounds. It was a

sort of reflection on my own taste. Between ourselves, the late Doctor Pratolungo was of a fine mahogany

As for affairs in general at Dimchurch, my chronicle of the five days finds little to dwell on that is worth

We were not startled by any second appearance of the two ruffians at Browndownneither was any change

made by Oscar in his domestic establishment. He was favored with more than one visit from our little

wandering Jicks. On each occasion, the child gravely reminded him of his rash promise to appeal to the

police, and visit with corporal punishment the two ugly strangers who had laughed at her. When were the

men to be beaten? and when was Jicks to see it? Such were the serious questions with which this young lady

regularly opened the proceedings, on each occasion when she favored Oscar with a morning call.

On the sixth day, the gold and silver plates were returned to Browndown from the manufactory in London.

"DEAR MADAME PRATOLUNGO,I regret to inform you that nothing happened to me last night. My

locks and bolts are in their usual good order; my gold and silver plates are safe in the workshop: and I myself

After this, there was no more to be said. Jicks might persist in remembering the two illlooking strangers.

Saturday camemaking the tenth day since the memorable morning when I had forced Oscar to disclose

In the forenoon we had a visit from him at the rectory. In the afternoon we went to Browndown, to see him

begin a new piece of chasing in golda casket for holding glovesdestined to take its place on Lucilla's

toilettable when it was done. We left him industriously at work; determined to go on as long as the daylight

Early in the evening, Lucilla sat down at her pianoforte; and I paid a visit by appointment to the rectory side

Unhappy Mrs. Finch had determined to institute a complete reform of her wardrobe. She had entreated me to

give her the benefit of "my French taste," in the capacity of confidential critic and adviser. "I can't afford to

buy any new things," said the poor lady. "But a deal might be done in altering what I have got by me, if a

clever person took the matter up." Who could resist that piteous appeal? I resigned myself to the baby, the

novel, and the children in general; and (Reverend Finch being out of the way, writing his sermon) I presented

myself in Mrs. Finch's parlor, full of ideas, with my scissors and my patternpaper ready in my hand.

We had only begun our operations, when one of the elder children arrived with a message from the nursery.

It was teatime; and, as usual, Jicks was missing. She was searched for, first in the lower regions of the

house; secondly in the garden. Not a trace of her was to be discovered in either quarter. Nobody was

surprised or alarmed. We said, "Oh, dear, she has gone to Browndown again!"and immersed ourselves

I had just decided that the blue merino jacket was an article of wearing apparel which had done its duty, and

earned its right to final retirement from the scenewhen a plaintive cry reached my ear, through the open

The cry was repeated, louder and nearer: recognizable this time as a cry in a child's voice. The door of the

room had been left ajar, when we sent the messenger back to the nursery. I threw it open, and found myself

The poor little thing was white and wild with terror. She was incapable of uttering a word. When I knelt

down to fondle and soothe her, she caught convulsively at my hand, and attempted to raise me. I got on my

feet again. She repeated her dumb cry more loudlyand tried to drag me out of the house. She was so weak

that she staggered under the effort. I took her up in my arms. One of my hands, as I embraced her, touched

the top of her frock, just below the back of her neck. I felt something on my fingers. I looked at them.

I turned the child round. My own blood froze. Her mother, standing behind me, screamed with horror.

The dear little thing's white frock was spotted and splashed with wet blood. Not her own blood. There was

not a scratch on her. I looked closer at the horrid marks. They had been drawn purposely on herdrawn, as it

seemed, with a finger. I took her out into the light. It was writing! A word had been feebly traced on the back

of her frock. I made out something like the letter "H." Then a letter which it was impossible to read.

Then another next to it, which might have been "L," or might have been "J." Then a last letter, which I

Yes!traced on the back of the child's frock, with a finger dipped in blood"HELP."

IT is needless to tell you at what conclusion I arrived, as soon as I was sufficiently myself to think at all.

Thanks to my adventurous past life, I have got the habit of deciding quickly in serious emergencies of all

sorts. In the present emergencyas I saw itthere were two things to be done. One, to go instantly with

help to Browndown: the other, to keep the knowledge of what had happened from Lucilla until I could get

I looked at Mrs. Finch. She had dropped helplessly into a chair. "Rouse yourself!" I saidand shook her. It

was no time for sympathizing with swoons and hysterics. The child was still in my arms; fast yielding, poor

little thing, to the exhaustion of fatigue and terror. I could do nothing until I had relieved myself of the charge

of her. Mrs. Finch looked up at me, trembling and sobbing. I put the child in her lap. Jicks feebly resisted

being parted from me; but soon gave up, and dropped her weary little head on her mother's bosom. "Can you

take off her frock?" I asked, with another shakea good one, this time. The prospect of a domestic

occupation (of any sort) appeared to rouse Mrs. Finch. She looked at the baby, in its cradle in one corner of

the room, and at the novel, reposing on a chair in another corner of the room. The presence of these two

familiar objects appeared to encourage her. She shivered, she swallowed a sob, she recovered her breath, she

"Put it away carefully," I said; "and say nothing to anybody of what has happened, until I come back. You

can see for yourself that the child is not hurt. Soothe her, and wait here. Is Mr. Finch in the study?"

Mrs. Finch swallowed another sob, and said, "Yes." The child made a last effort. "Jicks will go with you,"

said the indomitable little Arab faintly. I ran out of the room, and left the three babiesbig, little, and

After knocking at the study door without getting any reply, I opened it and went in. Reverend Finch,

comfortably prostrate in a large armchair (with his sermonpaper spread out in fair white sheets by his

side), started up, and confronted me in the character of a clergyman that moment awakened from a sound

"I beg your pardon, Madame Pratolungo, I was deep in thought. Please state your business briefly." Saying

those words, he waved his hand magnificently over his empty sheets of paper, and added in his deepest bass:

I told him in the plainest words what I had seen on his child's frock, and what I feared had happened at

Browndown. He turned deadly pale. If I ever yet set my two eyes on a man thoroughly frightened, Reverend

"Do you anticipate danger?" he inquired. "Is it your opinion that criminal persons are in, or near, the house?"

"It is my opinion that there is not a moment to be lost," I answered. "We must go to Browndown; and we

I opened the door, and waited for him to come out with me. Mr. Finch (still apparently preoccupied with the

question of the criminal persons) looked as if he wished himself a hundred miles from his own rectory at that

particular moment. But he was the master of the house; he was the principal man in the placehe had no

We went out together into the village. My reverend companion was silent for the first time in my limited

experience of him. We inquired for the one policeman who patrolled the district. He was away on his rounds.

We asked if anybody had seen the doctor. No: it was not the doctor's day for visiting Dimchurch. I had heard

the landlord of the Gross Hands described as a capable and respectable man; and I suggested stopping at the

inn, and taking him with us. Mr. Finch instantly brightened at that proposal. His sense of his own importance

"Exactly what I was about to suggest," he said. "Gootheridge of the Gross Hands is a very worthy

personfor his station in life. Let us have Gootheridge, by all means. Don't be alarmed, Madame

Pratolungo. We are all in the hands of Providence. It is most fortunate for you that I was at home. What

would you have done without me? Now don't, pray don't, be alarmed. In case of criminal personsI have my

stick, as you see. I am not tall; but I possess immense physical strength. I am, so to speak, all muscle. Feel!"

He held out one of his wizen little arms. It was about half the size of my arm. If I had not been far too anxious

to think of playing tricks, I should certainly have declared that it was needless, with such a tower of strength

by my side, to disturb the landlord. I dare not assert that Mr. Finch actually detected the turn my thoughts

were takingI can only declare that he did certainly shout for Gootheridge in a violent hurry, the moment

The landlord came out; and, hearing what our errand was, instantly consented to join us.

"Yes, ma'amthey were both at Browndown. They finished up their work as usualand left the house more

I considered with myself for a minute, and ventured on putting a few more questions to Mr. Gootheridge.

A sickening suspicion that the two strangers in the chaise might be the two men whom I had seen lurking

under the wall, forced its way into my mind. I said no more until we reached the house.

All was quiet. The one sign of anything unusual was in the plain traces of the passage of wheels over the turf

in front of Browndown. The landlord was the first to see them. "The chaise must have stopped at the house,

Reverend Finch was suffering under a second suspension of speech. All he could say as we approached the

door of the silent and solitary buildingand he said that with extreme difficultywas, "Pray let us be

The landlord was the first to reach the door. I was behind him. The rectorat some little distanceacted as

rearguard, with the South Downs behind him to retreat upon. Gootheridge rapped smartly on the door, and

called out, "Mr. Dubourg!" There was no answer. There was only a dreadful silence. The suspense was more

than I could endure. I pushed by the landlord, and turned the handle of the unlocked door.

He pushed by me, in his turn. I followed him close. We entered the house, and called again. Again there was

no answer. We looked into the little sittingroom on one side of the passage, and into the diningroom on the

other. Both were empty. We went on to the back of the house, where the room was situated which Oscar

We knocked, and called again. The horrid silence was all that followedas before.

I tried the keyhole with my finger. The key was not in the lock. I knelt down, and looked through the keyhole.

"Burst open the door!" I screamed. "I can just see his hand lying on the floor!"

The landlord, like the rector, was a little man; and the door, like everything else at Browndown, was of the

clumsiest and heaviest construction. Unaided by instruments, we should all three together have been too weak

to burst it open. In this difficulty, Reverend Finch proved to befor the first time, and also for the lastof

"Stay!" he said. "My friends, if the back garden gate is open, we can get in by the window."

Neither the landlord nor I had thought of the window. We ran round to the back of the house; seeing the

marks of the chaisewheels leading in the same direction. The gate in the wall was wide open. We crossed

the little garden. The window of the workshopopening to the groundgave us admission as the rector had

There he laypoor harmless, unlucky Oscarsenseless, in a pool of his own blood. A blow on the left side

of his head had, to all appearance, felled him on the spot. The wound had split the scalp. Whether it had also

split the skull was more than I was surgeon enough to be able to say. I had gathered some experience of how

to deal with wounded men, when I served the sacred cause of Freedom with my glorious Pratolungo. Cold

water, vinegar, and linen for bandagesthese were all in the house; and these I called for. Gootheridge found

the key of the door flung aside in a corner of the room. He got the water and the vinegar, while I ran upstairs

to Oscar's bedroom, and provided myself with some of his handkerchiefs. In a few minutes, I had a cold

water bandage over the wound, and was bathing his face in vinegar and water. He was still insensible; but he

lived. Reverend Finchnot of the slightest help to anybodyassumed the duty of feeling Oscar's pulse. He

did it as if, under the circumstances, this was the one meritorious action that could be performed. He looked

as if nobody could feel a pulse but himself. "Most fortunate," he said, counting the slow, faint throbbing at

the poor fellow's wrist"most fortunate that I was at home. What would you have done without me?"

The next necessity was, of course, to send for the doctor, and to get help, in the meantime, to carry Oscar

Gootheridge volunteered to borrow a horse, and to ride off for the doctor. We arranged that he was to send

his wife and his wife's brother to help me. This settled, the one last embarrassment left to deal with, was the

embarrassment of Mr. Finch. Now that we were free from all fear of encountering bad characters in the

house, the boomboom of the little man's big voice went on unintermittingly, like a machine at work in the

neighborhood. I had another of my inspirationssitting on the floor with Oscar's head on my lap. I gave my

reverend companion something to do. "Look about the room!" I said. "See if the packingcase with the gold

Mr. Finch did not quite relish being treated like an ordinary mortal, and being told what he was to do.

"Compose yourself, Madame Pratolungo," he said. "No hysterical activity, if you please. This business is in

That answer instantly set him fussing about the room. Not a sign of the case was to be seen.

All doubt in my mind was at an end now. The two ruffians lounging against the wall had justified, horribly

On the arrival of Mrs. Gootheridge and her brother, we carried him up to his room. We laid him on the bed,

with his necktie off, and his throat free, and the air blowing over him from the open window. He showed no

sign yet of coming to his senses. But still the pulse went faintly on. No change was discernible for the worse.

It was useless to hope for the doctor's arrival, before another hour at least. I felt the necessity of getting back

at once to the rectory, so as to be able to tell Lucilla (with all needful preparation) the melancholy truth.

Otherwise, the news of what had happened would get abroad in the village, and might come to her ears, in the

worst possible way, through one of the servants. To my infinite relief, Mr. Finch, when I rose to go, excused

himself from accompanying me. He had discovered that it was his duty, as rector, to give the earliest

information of the outrage at Browndown to the legal authorities. He went his way to the nearest magistrate.

And I went mineleaving Oscar under the care of Mrs. Gootheridge and her brotherback to the house.

Mr. Finch's last words at parting reminded me, once more, that we had one thing at least to be thankful for

"Most fortunate, Madame Pratolungo, that I was at home. What would you have done without me?"

I AM, if you will be so good as to remember, constitutionally Frenchand, therefore, constitutionally averse

to distressing myself, if I can possibly help it. For this reason, I really cannot summon courage to describe

what passed between my blind Lucilla and me when I returned to our pretty sittingroom. She made me cry

at the time; and she would make me (and perhaps you) cry again now, if I wrote the little melancholy story of

what this tender young creature suffered when I told her my miserable news. I won't write it; I am dead

against tears. They affect the nose; and my nose is my best feature. Let us use our eyes, my fair friends, to

I now observed her, for the first time, to be jealous of the eyes of us happy people who could see. The instant

she entered, she insisted on being near enough to the bed, to hear us, or to touch us, as we waited on the

injured man. This was at once followed by her taking the place occupied by Mrs. Gootheridge at the

bedhead, and herself bathing Oscar's face and forehead. She was even jealous of me, when she discovered

that I was moistening the bandages on the wound. I irritated her into boldly kissing the poor insensible face in

our presence! The landlady of the Cross Hands was one of my sort: she took cheerful views of things. "Sweet

on himeh, ma'am?" she whispered in my ear; "we shall have a wedding in Dimchurch." In presence of

these kissings and whisperings, Mrs. Gootheridge's brother, as the only man present, began to look very

uncomfortable. This worthy creature belonged to that large and respectable order of Englishmen, who don't

know what to do with their hands, or how to get out of a room. I took pity on himhe was, I assure you, a

fine man. "Smoke your pipe, sir, in the garden," I said. "We will call to you from the window, if we want you

up here." Mrs. Gootheridge's brother cast on me one look of unutterable gratitudeand escaped, as if he had

His first words were an indescribable relief to us. The skull of our poor Oscar was not injured. There was

concussion of the brain, and there was a scalpwoundinflicted evidently with a blunt instrument. As to the

wound, I had done all that was necessary in the doctor's absence. As to the injury to the brain, time and care

would put everything right again. "Make your minds easy, ladies," said this angel of a man. "There is no

He came to his sensesthat is to say, he opened his eyes and looked vacantly about himbetween four and

His mind, poor fellow, was still all astray. He recognized nobody. He imitated the action of writing with his

finger; and said very earnestly, over and over again, "Go home, Jicks; go home, go home!" fancying himself

(as I suppose), lying helpless on the floor, and sending the child back to us to give the alarm. Later in the

night he fell asleep. All through the next day, he still wandered in his mind when he spoke. It was not till the

day after, that he began feebly to recover his reason. The first person he recognized was Lucilla. She was

engaged at the moment in brushing his beautiful chestnut hair. To her unutterable joy, he patted her hand, and

She bent over him; and, under cover of the hairbrush, whispered something in his ear which made the young

fellow's pale face flush, and his dull eyes brighten with pleasure. A day or two afterwards, she owned to me

that she had said, "Get well, for my sake." She was not in the least ashamed of having spoken to that plain

purpose. On the contrary, she triumphed in it. "Leave him to me," said Lucilla, in the most positive manner.

In a week more, he was in complete possession of his facultiesbut still wretchedly weak, and only gaining

He was now able to tell us, by a little at a time, of what had happened in the workshop.

After Mrs. Gootheridge and her daughter had quitted the house at their usual hour, he had gone up to his

room; had remained there some little time; and had then gone downstairs again. On approaching the

workshop, he heard voices talking in whispers in the room. The idea instantly occurred to him that something

was wrong. He softly tried the door, and found it lockedthe robbers having no doubt taken that precaution,

to prevent their being surprised at their thieving work by any person in the house. The one other way of

getting into the room, was the way that we had tried. He went round to the back garden, and found an empty

chaise drawn up outside the door. This circumstance thoroughly puzzled him. But for the mysterious locking

of the workshop door, it would have suggested to him nothing more alarming than the arrival of some

unexpected visitors. Eager to solve the mystery, he crossed the garden; and, entering the room, found himself

face to face with the same two men whom Jicks had discovered ten days previously lounging against the wall.

As he approached the window, they were both busily engaged, with their backs towards him, in cording up

They rose and faced him as he stepped into the room. The act of robbery which he found them coolly

perpetrating in broad daylight, instantly set his irritable temper in a flame. He rushed at the younger of the

two menbeing the one nearest to him. The ruffian sprang aside out of his reach; snatched up from the table

on which it was lying ready, a short loaded staff of leather called "a lifepreserver;" and struck him with it on

From that moment, he remembered nothing, until he had regained his consciousness after the first shock of

He found himself lying, giddy and bleeding, on the floor; and he saw the child (who must have strayed into

the room while he was senseless) standing petrified with fear, looking at him. The idea of making use of

heras the only living being nearto give the alarm, came to him instinctively the moment he recognized

her. He coaxed the little creature to venture within reach of his hand; and, dipping his finger in the blood that

was flowing from him, sent us the terrible message which I had spelt out on the back of her frock. That done,

he exerted his last remains of strength to push her gently towards the open window, and direct her to go

home. He fainted from loss of blood, while he was still repeating the words, "Go home! go home!"and still

seeing, or fancying that he saw, the child stopping obstinately in the room, stupefied with terror. Of the time

at which she found the courage and the sense to run home, and of all that had happened after that, he was

necessarily ignorant. His next conscious impression was the impression, already recorded, of seeing Lucilla

The account of the matter thus given by Oscar, was followed by a supplementary statement provided by the

The machinery of the law was put in action; and the village was kept in a fever of excitement for days

together. Never was there a more complete investigationand never was a poorer result achieved.

Substantially, nothing was discovered beyond what I had already found out for myself. The robbery was

declared to have been (as I had supposed) a planned thing. Though we had none of us noticed them at the

rectory, it was ascertained that the thieves had been at Dimchurch on the day when the unlucky plates were

first delivered at Browndown. Having taken their time to examine the house, and to make themselves

acquainted with the domestic habits of the persons in it, the rogues had paid their second visit to the

villageno doubt to commit the robberyon the occasion when we had discovered them. Foiled by the

unexpected return of the gold and silver to London, they had waited again, had followed the plates back to

Browndown, and had effected their objectthanks to the lonely situation of the house, and to the murderous

More than one witness had met them on the road back to Brighton, with the packingcase in the chaise. But

when they returned to the liverystables from which they had hired the vehicle, the case was not to be seen.

Accomplices in Brighton had, in all probability, assisted them in getting rid of it, and in shifting the plates

into ordinary articles of luggage, which would attract no special attention at the railway station. This was the

explanation given by the police. Right or wrong, the one fact remains that the villains were not caught, and

that the assault and robbery at Oscar's house may be added to the long list of crimes cleverly enough

For ourselves, we all agreedled by Lucillato indulge in no useless lamentations, and to be grateful that

Oscar had escaped without serious injury. The mischief was done; and there was an end of it.

In this philosophical spirit, we looked at the affair while our invalid was recovering. We all plumed ourselves

on our excellent good senseand (ah, poor stupid human wretches!) we were all fatally wrong. So far from

the mischief being at an end, the mischief had only begun. The true results of the robbery at Browndown

were yet to show themselves, and were yet to be felt in the strangest and the saddest way by every member of

BETWEEN five and six weeks passed. Oscar was out of his bedroom, and was well of his wound.

During this lapse of time, Lucilla steadily pursued that process of her own of curing him, which was to end in

marrying him. Never had I seen such nursing beforenever do I expect to see such nursing again. From

morning to night, she interested him, and kept him in good spirits. The charming creature actually made her

Sometimes, she would sit before Oscar's lookingglass, and imitate all the innumerable tricks, artifices, and

vanities of a coquette arraying herself for conquestwith such wonderful truth and humour of mimicry, that

you would have sworn she possessed the use of her eyes. Sometimes, she would show him her extraordinary

power of calculating by the sound of a person's voice, the exact position which that person occupied towards

her in a room. Selecting me as the victim, she would first provide herself with one of the nosegays always

placed by her own hands at Oscar's bedside; and would then tell me to take up my position noiselessly in any

part of the room that I pleased, and to say "Lucilla." The instant the words were out of my mouth, the

nosegay flew from her hand, and hit me on the face. She never once missed her aim, on any one of the

occasions when this experiment was triedand she never once flagged in her childish enjoyment of the

Nobody was allowed to pour out Oscar's medicine but herself. She knew when the spoon into which it was to

be measured was full, by the sound which the liquid made in falling into it. When he was able to sit up in his

bed, and when she was standing at the pillowside, she could tell him how near his head was to hers, by the

change which he produced, when he bent forward or when he drew back, in the action of the air on her face.

In the same way, she knew as well as he knew, when the sun was out and when it was behind a

cloudjudging by the differing effect of the air, at such times, on her forehead and on her cheeks.

All the litter of little objects accumulating in a sickroom, she kept in perfect order on a system of her own.

She delighted in putting the room tidy late in the evening, when we helpless people who could see were

beginning to think of lighting the candles. The time when we could just discern her, flitting to and fro in the

dusk, in her bright summer dressnow visible as she passed the window, now lost in the shadows at the end

of the roomwas the time when she began to clear the tables of the things that had been wanted in the day,

and to replace them by the things which would be wanted at night. We were only allowed to light the candles

when they showed us the room magically put in order during the darkness as if the fairies had done it. She

laughed scornfully at our surprise, and said she sincerely pitied the poor useless people who could only see!

The same pleasure which she had in arranging the room in the dark she also felt in wandering all over the

house in the dark, and in making herself thoroughly acquainted with every inch of it from top to bottom. As

"You have been so long up in your bedroom," she said, "that you must have forgotten the rest of the house.

Take my armand come along. Now we are out in the passage. Mind! there is a step down, just at this place.

And now a step up again. Here is a sharp corner to turn at the top of the staircase. And there is a rod out of

the staircarpet, and an awkward fold in it that might throw you down." So she took him into his own

drawingroom, as if it was he that was blind, and she who had the use of her eyes. Who could resist such a

nurse as this? Is it wonderful that I heard a sound suspiciously like the sound of a kiss, on that first day of

convalescence, when I happened for a moment to be out of the room? I strongly suspected her of leading the

way in that also. She was so wonderfully composed when I came backand he was so wonderfully flurried.

In a week from his convalescence, Lucilla completed the cure of the patient. In other words, she received

from Oscar an offer of marriage. I have not the slightest doubt, in my own mind, that he required assistance in

I may be right or I may be wrong about this. But I can at least certify that Lucilla was in such mad high spirits

when she told me the news out in the garden, on a lovely autumn morning, that she actually danced for

joyand, more improper still, she made me, at my discreet time of life, dance too. She took me round the

waist, and we waltzed on the grassMrs. Finch standing by in the condemned blue merino jacket (with the

baby in one hand and the novel in the other), and warning us both that if we lost half an hour out of our day,

in whirling each other round the lawn, we should never succeed in picking it up again in that house. We went

on whirling, for all that, until we were both out of breath. Nothing short of downright exhaustion could tame

Lucilla. As for me, I am, I sincerely believe, the rashest person of my age now in existence. (What is my age?

Ah, I am always discreet about that; it is the one exception.) Set down my rashness to my French nationality,

There was a private interview at Browndown, later on that day, between Oscar and Reverend Finch.

Of what passed on that occasion, I was not informed. The rector came back among us with his head high in

the air, strutting magnificently on his wizen little legs. He embraced his daughter in pathetic silence, and gave

me his hand with a serene smile of condescension worthy of the greatest humbug (say Louis the Fourteenth)

that ever sat on a throne. When he got the better of his paternal emotion, and began to speak, his voice was so

big that I really thought it must have burst him. The vapor of words in which he enveloped himself

(condensed on paper) amounted to these two statements. First, that he hailed in Oscar (not having, I suppose,

children enough already of his own) the advent of another son. Secondly, that he saw the finger of Providence

in everything that had happened. Alas, for me! My irreverent French nature saw nothing but the finger of

The weddingday was not then actually fixed. It was only generally arranged that the marriage should take

This interval was intended to serve a double purpose. It was to give the lawyers time to prepare the marriage

settlements, and to give Oscar time to completely recover his health. Some anxiety was felt by all of us on

this latter subject. His wound was well, and his mind was itself again. But still there was something wrong

Those curious contradictions in his character which I have already mentioned, showed themselves more

strangely than ever. The man who had found the courage (when his blood was up) to measure himself alone

and unarmed against two robbers, was now unable to enter the room in which the struggle had taken place,

without trembling from head to foot. He, who had laughed at me when I begged him not to sleep in the house

by himself, now had two men (a gardener and an indoor servant) domiciled at Browndown to protect

himand felt no sense of security even in that. He was constantly dreaming that the ruffian with the

"lifepreserver" was attacking him again, or that he was lying bleeding on the floor and coaxing Jicks to

venture within reach of his hand. If any of us hinted at his occupying himself once more with his favorite art,

he stopped his ears, and entreated us not to renew his horrible associations with the past. He would not even

look at his box of chasing tools. The doctorsummoned to say what was the matter with himtold us that

his nervous system had been shaken, and frankly acknowledged that there was nothing to be done but to wait

I am afraid I must confess that I myself took no very indulgent view of the patient's case.

It was his duty to exert himselfas I thought. He appeared to me to be too indolent to make a proper effort

to better his own condition. Lucilla and I had more than one animated discussion about him. On a certain

evening when we were at the piano gossiping, and playing in the intervals, she was downright angry with me

for not sympathizing with her darling as unreservedly as she did. "I have noticed one thing, Madame

Pratolungo," she said to me, with a flushed face and a heightened tone. "You have never done Oscar justice

(Mark those trifling words. The time is coming when you will hear of them again.)

The preparations for the contemplated marriage went on. The lawyers produced their sketch of the settlement;

and Oscar wrote (to an address in New York, given to him by Nugent) to tell his brother of the approaching

The marriage settlement was not shown to me; but, from certain signs and tokens, I guessed that Oscar's

perfect disinterestedness on the question of money had been turned to profitable account by Oscar's future

fatherinlaw. Reverend Finch was reported to have shed tears when he first read the document. And Lucilla

came out of the study, after an interview with her father, more thoroughly and vehemently indignant than I

had ever seen her yet. "Don't ask what is the matter!" she said to me between her teeth. "I am ashamed to tell

you." When Oscar came in, a little later, she fell on her kneesliterally on her kneesbefore him. Some

overmastering agitation was in possession of her whole being, which made her, for the moment, reckless of

what she said or did. "I worship you!" she burst out hysterically, kissing his hand. "You are the noblest of

living men. I can never, never be worthy of you!" The interpretation of these highflown sayings and doings

was, to my mind, briefly this: Oscar's money in the rector's pocket, and the rector's daughter used as the

The interval expired; the weeks succeeded each other. All had been long since ready for the marriageand

Far from becoming himself again, with time to help himas the doctor had foretoldOscar steadily grew

worse. All the nervous symptoms (to use the medical phrase) which I have already described, strengthened

instead of loosening their hold on him. He grew thinner and thinner, and paler and paler. Early in the month

of November, we sent for the doctor again. The question to be put to him this time, was the question

SomethingI forget whatdelayed the arrival of our medical man. Oscar had given up all idea of seeing

him that day, and had come to us at the rectorywhen the doctor drove into Dimchurch. He was stopped

before he went on to Browndown; and he and his patient saw each other alone in Lucilla's sittingroom.

They were a long time together. Lucilla, waiting with me in my bedchamber, grew impatient. She begged

me to knock at the sittingroom door, and inquire when she might be permitted to assist at the consultation.

I found doctor and patient standing together at the window, talking quietly. Evidently, nothing had passed to

excite either of them in the smallest degree. Oscar looked a little pale and wearybut he, like his medical

"There is a young lady in the next room," I said, "who is getting anxious to hear what your consultation has

"There is really nothing to tell Miss Finch," he said. "Mr. Dubourg and I have gone all over the case

againand nothing new has come of it. His nervous system has not recovered its balance so soon as I

expected. I am sorrybut I am not in the least alarmed. At his age, things are sure to come right in the end.

"None, whatever! Let him go where he likes, and amuse himself as he likes. You are all of you a little

disposed to take Mr. Dubourg's case too seriously. Except the nervous derangement (unpleasant enough in

itself, I grant), there is really nothing the matter with him. He has not a trace of organic disease anywhere.

The pulse," continued the doctor, laying his fingers lightly on Oscar's wrist, "is perfectly satisfactory. I never

As the words passed his lips, a frightful contortion fastened itself on Oscar's face.

From head to foot his whole body was wrenched round, as if giant hands had twisted it, towards the right.

The doctor loosened his cravat, and moved away the furniture that was near him. That done, he

BEFORE another word had been exchanged between us, Lucilla entered the room. We looked at each other.

If we could have spoken at that moment, I believe we should both have said, "Thank God, she is blind!"

"Have you all forgotten me?" she asked. "Oscar! where are you? What does the doctor say?"

She advanced into the room. In a moment more, she would have stumbled against the prostrate man still

She suddenly caught my hand in hers. "Why did you tremble," she asked, "when you took me by the arm?

Why are you trembling now?" Her delicate sense of touch was not to be deceived. I vainly denied that

anything had happened: my hand had betrayed me. "There is something wrong!" she exclaimed, "Oscar has

"There is nothing to be alarmed about," he said. "Mr. Dubourg is not very well today."

"You are deceiving me!" she cried. "Something serious has happened to him. The truth! tell me the truth! Oh!

it's shameful, it's heartless of both of you to deceive a wretched blind creature like me!"

"Where is he?" she asked, seizing me by the two shoulders, and shaking me in the violence of her agitation.

I entreated her to wait a little; I tried to place her in a chair. She pushed me contemptuously away, and went

down on the floor on her hands and knees. "I shall find him," she said to herself; "I shall find him in spite of

them!" She began to crawl over the floor, feeling the empty space before her with her hand. It was horrible. I

"Don't struggle with her," said the doctor. "Let her come here. He is quiet now."

I looked at Oscar. The worst of it was over. He was exhaustedhe was quite still now. The doctor's voice

guided her to the place. She sat down by Oscar on the floor, and laid his head on her lap. The moment she

touched him, the same effect was produced on her which would be produced (if our eyes were bandaged) on

you or me when the bandage was taken off. An instant sense of relief diffused itself through her whole being.

She became her gentler and sweeter self again. "I am sorry I lost my temper," she said with the simplicity of a

child. "But you don't know how hard it is to be deceived when you are blind." She stooped as she said those

words, and passed her handkerchief lightly over his forehead. "Doctor," she asked, "will this happen again?"

She asked no more questions; her eager face passed suddenly into a state of repose. Something seemed to

have come into her mindafter the doctor's answer to her own questionwhich absorbed her in herself.

When Oscar recovered his consciousness, she left it to me to answer the first natural questions which he put.

When he personally addressed her she spoke to him kindly, but briefly. Something in her, at that moment,

seemed to keep her apart, even from him. When the doctor proposed taking him back to Browndown, she did

not insist, as I had anticipated, on going with them. She took leave of him tenderlybut still she let him go.

While he yet lingered near the door, looking back at her, she moved away slowly to the further end of the

room; selfwithdrawn into her own dark worldshut up in her thoughts from him and from us.

"You must not think too seriously of this," he said, following her to the window at which she stood, and

dropping his voice so that Oscar could not hear him. "He has himself told you that he feels lighter and better

than he felt before the fit. It has relieved instead of injuring him. There is no danger. I assure you, on my

"Can you assure me, on your honor, of one other thing," she asked, lowering her voice on her side. "Can you

"We will have another medical opinion," he answered, "before we decide. The next time I go to see him, a

Oscar, who had thus far waited, wondering at the change in her, now opened the door. The doctor returned to

She sat down on the windowseat, with her elbows on her knees and her hands grasping her forehead. A long

moaning cry burst from her. She said to herself bitterly the one word"Farewell!"

I approached her; feeling the necessity of reminding her that I was in the room.

"To his happiness and to mine," she answered, without lifting her head from her hands. "The dark days are

She paused before she answered me. "Do you believe in fate?" she said, suddenly breaking the silence.

"I believe in nothing which encourages people to despair of themselves," I replied.

"What caused the fit which seized him in this room? The blow that struck him on the head. How did he

receive the blow? In trying to defend what was his and what was mine. What had he been doing on the day

when the thieves entered the house? He had been working on the casket which was meant for me. Do you see

those events linked together in one chain? I believe the fit will be followed by some next event springing out

of it. Something else is coming to darken his life and to darken mine. There is no weddingday near for us.

The obstacles are rising in front of him and in front of me. The next misfortune is very near us. You will see!

you will see!" She shivered as she said those words; and, shrinking away from me, huddled herself up in a

It was useless to dispute with her; and worse than useless to sit there, and encourage her to say more. I got up

"There is one thing I believe in," I said cheerfully. "I believe in the breeze on the hills. Come for a walk!"

"Let me be!" she broke out impatiently. "Leave me by myself!" She rose, repenting the words the moment

they were utteredshe put her arm round my neck, and kissed me. "I didn't mean to speak so harshly," said

the gentle affectionate creature. "Sister! my heart is heavy. My life to come never looked so dark to my blind

eyes as it looks now." A tear dropped from those poor sightless eyes on my cheek. She turned her head aside

abruptly. "Forgive me," she murmured, "and let me go." Before I could answer, she hurried away to hide

herself in her room. The sweet girl! How you would have pitied herhow you would have loved her!

I went out alone for my walk. She had not infected me with her superstitious foreboding of ill things to come.

But there was one sad word that she had said, in which I could not but agree. After what I had witnessed in

IN four or five days more, Lucilla's melancholy doubts about Oscar were confirmed. He was attacked by a

The promised consultation with the physician from Brighton took place. Our new doctor did not encourage us

to hope. The second fit following so close on the first was, in his opinion, a bad sign. He gave general

directions for the treatment of Oscar; and left him to decide for himself whether he would or would not try

change of scene. No change, the physician appeared to think, would exert any immediate influence on the

recurrence of the epileptic attacks. The patient's general health might be benefited, and that was all. As for the

question of the marriage, he declared without hesitation that we must for the present dismiss all consideration

Lucilla received the account of what passed at the visit of the doctors with a stubborn resignation which it

distressed me to see. "Remember what I told you when the first attack seized him," she said. "Our

Her manner, while she spoke, was the manner of a person who is waiting without hopewho feels

deliberately that calamity is near. She only roused herself when Oscar came in. He was, naturally enough, in

miserable spirits, under the sudden alteration in all his prospects. Lucilla did her best to cheer him, and

succeeded. On my side, I tried vainly to persuade him to leave Browndown and amuse himself in some gayer

place. He shrank from new faces and new scenes. Between these two unelastic young people, I felt even my

native good spirits beginning to sink. If we had been all three down in the bottom of a dry well in a

wilderness, we could hardly have surveyed a more dismal prospect than the prospect we were contemplating

now. By good luck, Oscar, like Lucilla, was passionately fond of music. We turned to the piano as our best

resource in those days of our adversity. Lucilla and I took it in turns to play, and Oscar listened. I have to

report that we got through a great deal of music. I have also to acknowledge that we were very dull.

As for Reverend Finch, he talked his way through his share of the troubles that were trying us now, at the full

If you had heard the little priest in those days, you would have supposed that nobody could feel our domestic

misfortunes as he felt them, and grieve over them as he grieved. He was a sight to see, on the day of the

medical consultation; strutting up and down his wife's sittingroom, and haranguing his

audiencecomposed of his wife and myself. Mrs. Finch sat in one corner, with the baby and the novel, and

the petticoat and the shawl. I occupied the other corner; summoned to "consult with the rector." In plain

words, summoned to hear Mr. Finch declare that he was the person principally overshadowed by the cloud

"I despair, Madame PratolungoI assure you, I despairof conveying any idea of how I feel under this

most melancholy state of things. You have been very good; you have shown the sympathy of a true friend.

But you cannot possibly understand how this blow has fallen on Me. I am crushed. Madame Pratolungo!" (he

appealed to me, in my corner); "Mrs. Finch!" (he appealed to his wife, in her corner)"I am crushed. There

is no other word to express it but the word I have used. Crushed." He stopped in the middle of the room. He

looked expectantly at mehe looked expectantly at his wife. His face and manner said plainly, "If both these

women faint, I shall consider it a natural and becoming proceeding on their parts, after what I have just told

them." I waited for the lead of the lady of the house. Mrs. Finch did not roll prostrate, with the baby and the

novel, on the floor. Thus encouraged, I presumed to keep my seat. The rector still waited for us. I looked as

miserable as I could. Mrs. Finch cast her eyes up reverentially at her husband, as if she thought him the

noblest of created beings, and silently put her handkerchief to her eyes. Mr. Finch was satisfied; Mr. Finch

went on. "My health has sufferedI assure you, Madame Pratolungo, MY health has suffered. Since this sad

occurrence, my stomach has given way. My balance is lostmy usual regularity is gone. I am

subjectentirely through this miserable businessto fits of morbid appetite. I want things at wrong

timesbreakfast in the middle of the night; dinner at four in the morning. I want something now!" Mr. Finch

stopped, horrorstruck at his condition; pondering with his eyebrows fiercely knit, and his hand pressed

convulsively on the lower buttons of his rusty black waistcoat. Mrs. Finch's watery blue eyes looked across

the room at me, in a moist melancholy of conjugal distress. The rector, suddenly enlightened after his

consultation with his stomach, strutted to the door, flung it wide open, and called down the kitchen stairs with

a voice of thunder, "Poach me an egg!" He came back into the roomheld another consultation, keeping his

eyes severely fixed on mestrutted back in a furious hurry to the doorand bellowed a counterorder

down the kitchenstairs, "No egg! Do me a red herring!" He came back for the second time, with his eyes

closed and his hand laid distractedly on his head. He appealed alternately to Mrs. Finch and to me. "See for

yourselvesMrs. Finch! Madame Pratolungo!see for yourselves what a state I am in. It's simply pitiable. I

hesitate about the most trifling things. First, I think I want a poached eggthen, I think I want a red

herringnow I don't know what I want. Upon my word of honor as a clergyman and a gentleman, I don't

know what I want! Morbid appetite all day; morbid wakefulness all nightwhat a condition! I can't rest. I

disturb my wife at night. Mrs. Finch! I disturb you at night. How many timessince this misfortune fell

upon usdo I turn in bed before I fall off to sleep? Eight times? Are you certain of it? Don't exaggerate! Are

you certain you counted! Very well: good creature! I never rememberI assure you, Madame Pratolungo, I

never remembersuch a complete upset as this before. The nearest approach to it was some years since, at

my wife's last confinement but four. Mrs. Finch! was it at your last confinement but four? or your last but

five? Your last but four? Are you sure. Are you certain you are not misleading our friend here? Very well:

good creature! Pecuniary difficulties, Madame Pratolungo, were at the bottom of it on that last occasion. I got

over the pecuniary difficulties. How am I to get over this? My plans for Oscar and Lucilla were completely

arranged. My relations with my wedded children were pleasantly laid out. I saw my own future; I saw the

future of my family. What do I see now? All, so to speak, annihilated at a blow. Inscrutable Providence!" He

paused, and lifted his eyes and hands devotionally to the ceiling. The cook appeared with the red herring.

"Inscrutable Providence"proceeded Mr. Finch, a tone lower. "Eat it, dear," said Mrs. Finch, "while it's

hot." The rector paused again. His unresting tongue urged him to proceed; his undisciplined stomach

clamored for the herring. The cook uncovered the dish. Mr. Finch's nose instantly sided with Mr. Finch's

Having reported how the rector spoke, in the presence of the disaster which had fallen on the family, I have

only to complete the picture by stating next what he did. He borrowed two hundred pounds of Oscar; and left

off commanding red herrings in the day and disturbing Mrs. Finch at night, immediately afterwards.

No change for the better appeared in our prospects. The doctors did their best for Oscarwithout avail. The

horrible fits came back, again and again. Day after day, our dull lives went monotonously on. I almost began

now to believe, with Lucilla, that a crisis of some sort must be at hand. "This cannot last," I used to say to

myselfgenerally when I was very hungry. "Something will happen before the year comes to an end."

The month of December began; and something happened at last. The family troubles at the rectory were

matched by family troubles of my own. A letter arrived for me from one of my younger sisters at Paris. It

contained alarming news of a person very dear to mealready mentioned in the first of these pages as my

Was the venerable author of my being dangerously ill of a mortal disease? Alas! he was not exactly thatbut

the next worst thing to it. He was dangerously in love with a disreputable young woman. At what age? At the

age of seventyfive! What can we say of my surviving parent? We can only say, This is a vigorous nature;

I am grieved to trouble you with my family concerns. But they mix themselves up intimately, as you will see

in due time, with the concerns of Oscar and Lucilla. It is my unhappy destiny that I cannot possibly take you

through the present narrative, without sooner or later disclosing the one weakness (amiable weakness) of the

Ah, I am now treading on eggshells, I know! The English specter called Propriety springs up rampant on my

writingtable, and whispers furiously in my ear, "Madame Pratolungo, raise a blush on the cheek of

Innocence, and it is all over from that moment with you and your story." Oh, inflammable Cheek of

Innocence, be goodnatured for once, and I will rack my brains to try if I can put it to you without offense!

May I picture good Papa as an elder in the Temple of Venus, burning incense inexhaustibly on the altar of

love? No: Temple of Venus is Pagan; altar of love is not propertake them out. Let me only say of my

evergreen parent that his life from youth to age had been one unintermitting recognition of the charms of the

sex, and that my sisters and I (being of the sex) could not find it in our hearts to abandon him on that account.

So handsome, so affectionate, so sweettempered; with only one faultand that a compliment to the women,

who naturally adored him in return! We accepted our destiny. For years past (since the death of Mamma), we

accustomed ourselves to live in perpetual dread of his marrying some one of the hundreds of unscrupulous

hussies who took possession of him: and, worse if possible than that, of his fighting duels about them with

men young enough to be his grandsons. Papa was so susceptible! Papa was so brave! Over and over again, I

had been summoned to interfere, as the daughter who had the strongest influence over him. I had succeeded

in effecting his rescue, now by one means, and now by another; ending always, however, in the same sad

way, by the sacrifice of money for damageson which damages, when the woman is shameless enough to

On the present occasion, it was the old story over again. My sisters had done their best to stop it, and had

failed. I had no choice but to appear on the sceneto begin, perhaps, by boxing her ears: to end, certainly, by

My absence at this time was something more than an annoyanceit was a downright grief to my blind

Lucilla. On the morning of my departure, she clung to me as if she was determined not to let me go.

"What shall I do without you?" she said. "It is hard, in these dreary days, to lose the comfort of hearing your

voice. I shall feel all my security gone, when I feel you no longer near me. How many days shall you be

"A day to get to Paris," I answered; "and a day to get backtwo. Five days (if I can do it in the time) to

thunderstrike the hussy, and to rescue Papaseven. Let us say, if possible, a week."

"I have my yearly visit to pay to my aunt. It has been twice put off. I must absolutely go to London on the last

day of the old year, and stay there my allotted three months in Miss Batchford's house. I had hoped to be

Oscar's wife before the time came round again" she waited a moment to steady her voice. "That is all

over now. We must be parted. If I can't leave you here to console him and to take care of him, come what

Her staying at Dimchurch, while she was still unmarried, meant (under the terms of her uncle's will)

sacrificing her fortune. If Reverend Finch had heard her, he would not even have been able to say

"Don't be afraid," I said; "I shall be back, Lucilla, before you go. Besides, Oscar may get better. He may be

She shook her head, with such a sad, sad doubt of it, that the tears came into my eyes. I gave her a last

My route was to Newhaven, and then across the Channel to Dieppe. I don't think I really knew how fond I

had grown of Lucilla, until I lost sight of the rectory at the turn in the road to Brighton. My natural firmness

deserted me; I felt torturing presentiments that some great misfortune would happen in my absence; I

astonished myselfI, the widow of the Spartan Pratolungo!by having a good cry, like any other woman.

Sooner or later, we susceptible people pay with the heartache for the privilege of loving. No matter: heartache

or not, one must have something to love in this world as long as one lives in it. I have lived in itnever mind

how many yearsand I have got Lucilla. Before Lucilla I had the Doctor. Before the Doctorah, my

THE history of my proceedings in Paris can be dismissed in a very few words. It is only necessary to dwell in

detail on one among the many particulars which connect themselves in my memory with the rescue of good

The affair, this time, assumed the gravest possible aspect. The venerable victim had gone the length of

renewing his youth, in respect of his teeth, his hair, his complexion, and his figure (this last involving the

purchase of a pair of stays). I declare I hardly knew him again, he was so outrageously and unnaturally

young. The utmost stretch of my influence was exerted over him in vain. He embraced me with the most

touching fervour; he expressed the noblest sentimentsbut in the matter of his contemplated marriage, he

was immovable. Life was only tolerable to him on one condition. The beloved object, or deathsuch was the

To make the prospect more hopeless still, the beloved object proved, on this occasion, to be a bold enough

I give the jade her due. She assumed a perfectly unassailable attitude: we had her full permission to break off

the matchif we could. "I refer you to your father. Pray understand that I don't wish to marry him, if his

daughters object to it. He has only to say, 'Release me.' From that moment he is free." There was no

contending against such a system of defence as this. We knew as well as she did that our fascinated parent

would not say the word. Our one chance was to spend money in investigating the antecedent indiscretions of

the lady's life, and to produce against her proof so indisputable that not even an old man's infatuation could

We disbursed; we investigated; we secured our proof. It took a fortnight. At the end of that time, we had the

In the course of the inquiry I was brought into contact with many strange peopleamong others, with a man

who startled me, at our first interview, by presenting a personal deformity, which, with all my experience of

The man's face, instead of exhibiting any of the usual shades of complexion, was hideously distinguished by

a superhumanI had almost said a devilishcolouring of livid blackish blue! He proved to be a most kind,

intelligent, and serviceable person. But when we first confronted each other, his horrible color so startled me,

that I could not repress a cry of alarm. He not only passed over my involuntary act of rudeness in the most

indulgent mannerhe explained to me the cause which had produced his peculiarity of complexion; so as to

put me at my ease before we entered on the delicate private inquiry which had brought us together.

"I beg your pardon," said this unfortunate man, "for not having warned you of my disfigurement, before I

entered the room. There are hundreds of people discolored as I am, in the various parts of the civilized world;

and I supposed that you had met, in the course of your experience, with other examples of my case. The blue

tinge in my complexion is produced by the effect on the blood of Nitrate of Silvertaken internally. It is the

only medicine which relieves sufferers like me from an otherwise incurable malady. We have no alternative

He did not mention what his malady had been; and I abstained, it is needless to say, from questioning him

further. I got used to his disfigurement in the course of my relations with him; and I should no doubt have

forgotten my blue man in attending to more absorbing matters of interest, if the effects of Nitrate of Silver as

a medicine had not been once more unexpectedly forced on my attention, in another quarter, and under

Having saved Papa on the brink oflet us say, his twentieth precipice, it was next necessary to stay a few

days longer and reconcile him to the hardship of being rescued in spite of himself. You would have been

greatly shocked, if you had seen how he suffered. He gnashed his expensive teeth; he tore his beautifully

manufactured hair. In the fervour of his emotions, I have no doubt he would have burst his new staysif I

had not taken them away, and sold them halfprice, and made (to that small extent) a profit out of our

calamity to set against the loss. Do what one may in the detestable system of modern society, the pivot on

which it all turns is Money. Money, when you are saving Freedom! Money, when you are saving Papa! Is

Her letters to mevery sad and very shortreported a melancholy state of things at Dimchurch. While I

had been away, the dreadful epileptic seizures had attacked Oscar with increasing frequency and increasing

severity. The moment I could see my way to getting back to England, I wrote to Lucilla to cheer her with the

intimation of my return. Two days only before my departure from Paris, I received another letter from her. I

was weak enough to be almost afraid to open it. Her writing to me again, when she knew that we should be

reunited at such an early date, suggested that she must have some very startling news to communicate. My

I summoned courage to open the envelope. Ah, what fools we are! For once that our presentments come right,

they prove a hundred times to be wrong. Instead of distressing me, the letter delighted me. Our gloomy

Thusfeeling her way over the paper, in her large childish charactersLucilla wrote:

"DEAREST FRIEND AND SISTER,I cannot wait until we meet, to tell you my good news. The Brighton

doctor has been dismissed; and a doctor from London has been tried instead. My dear! for intellect there is

nothing like London. The new man sees, thinks, and makes up his mind on the spot. He has a way of his own

of treating Oscar's case; and he answers for curing him of the horrible fits. There is news for you! Come back,

and let us jump for joy together. How wrong I was to doubt the future! Never, never, never will I doubt it

"Lucilla has told you that there is some hope for me at last. What I write in this place is written without her

knowledgefor your private ear only. Take the first opportunity you can find of coming to see me at

Browndown, without allowing Lucilla to hear of it. I have a great favor to ask of you. My happiness depends

It was not in harmony with the implicit confidence which I had observed Oscar to place habitually in Lucilla.

It jarred on my experience of his character, which presented him to me as the reverse of a reserved secretive

man. His concealment of his identity, when he first came among us, had been a forced concealmentdue

entirely to his horror of being identified with the hero of the trial. In all the ordinary relations of life, he was

open and unreserved to a fault. That he could have a secret to keep from Lucilla, and to confide to me, was

something perfectly unintelligible to my mind. It highly excited my curiosity; it gave me a new reason for

I was able to make all my arrangements, and to bid adieu to my father and my sisters on the evening of the

twentythird. Early on the morning of the twentyfourth, I left Paris, and reached Dimchurch in time for the

The first hour of Christmas Day had struck on the clock in our own pretty sittingroom, before I could

prevail upon Lucilla to let me rest, after my journey, in bed. She was now once more the joyous lighthearted

creature of our happier time; and she had so much to say to me, that not even her father himself (on this

occasion) could have talked her down. The next morning she paid the penalty of exciting herself overnight.

When I went into her room, she was suffering from a nervous headache, and was not able to rise at her usual

hour. She proposed of her own accord that I should go alone to Browndown to see Oscar on my return. It is

only doing common justice to myself to say that this was a relief to me. If she had had the use of her eyes, my

conscience would have been easy enoughbut I shrank from deceiving my dear blind girl, even in the

I found him fretful and anxiousready to flame out into one of his sudden passions, on the smallest

provocation. Not the slightest reflection of Lucilla's recovered cheerfulness appeared in Lucilla's lover.

"Has she said anything to you about the new doctor?" were the first words he addressed to me.

"She has told me that she feels the greatest faith in him," I answered. "She firmly believes that he speaks the

"Not the slightest curiosity that I could see. It is enough for her that you are to be cured. The rest she leaves

My last answer appeared to relieve him. He sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "That's right!" he said to

"It must be a secret from Lucilla," he said, speaking very earnestly. "If she attempts to find it out, she must be

keptfor the present, at leastfrom all knowledge of it. Nobody has any influence over her but you. I look

"Certainly! How can I expect you to help me unless you know what a serious reason there is for keeping

He laid a strong emphasis on the two words "serious reason. I began to feel a little uneasy. I had never yet

taken the slightest advantage of my poor Lucilla's blindness. And here was her promised husbandof all the

My mind reverted, the instant I recovered myself, to the effect produced on me when the blue man in Paris

first entered my presence. In informing me of the effect of the medicine, he had (you will remember)

concealed from me the malady for which he had taken it. It had been left to Oscar, of all the people in the

world, to enlighten meand that by a reference to his own case! I was so shocked that I sat speechless.

With his quick sensibilities, there was no need for me to express myself in words. My face revealed to him

His composure staggered me. "How long have you been taking this horrible drug?" I inquired.

"The doctor tells me there will be no visible change for weeks and weeks to come."

Those words roused a momentary hope in me. "There is time to alter your mind," I said. "For heaven's sake

He smiled bitterly. "Weak as I am," he answered, "for once, my mind is made up."

I suppose I took a woman's view of the matter. I lost my temper when I looked at his beautiful complexion

"Are you in your right senses?" I burst out. "Do you mean to tell me that you are deliberately bent on making

I understood him at last. That was the consideration which had reconciled him to it!

Lucilla's horror of dark people and dark shades of color, of all kinds, was, it is needless to say, recalled to my

memory by the turn the conversation was taking now. Had she confessed it to him, as she had confessed it to

me? No! I remembered that she had expressly warned me not to admit him into our confidence in this matter.

At an early period of their acquaintance, she had asked him which of his parents he resembled. This led him

into telling her that his father had been a dark man. Lucilla's delicacy had at once taken the alarm. "He speaks

very tenderly of his dead father," she said to me. "It may hurt him if he finds out the antipathy I have to dark

people. Let us keep it to ourselves." As things now were, it was on the tip of my tongue to remind him, that

Lucilla would hear of his disfigurement from other people; and then to warn him of the unpleasant result that

might follow. On reflection, however, I thought it wiser to wait a little and sound his motives first.

"Before you tell me how I can help you," I said, "I want to know one thing more. Have you decided in this

"I don't want advice," he answered sharply. "My case admits of no choice. Even such a nervous undecided

"The doctors were afraid to tell me. I had to force it out of them. I said, 'I appeal to your honor to answer a

plain question plainly. Is there any certain prospect of my getting the better of the fits?' They only said, 'At

your time of life, we may reasonably hope so.' I pressed them closer:'Can you fix a date to which I may

look forward as the date of my deliverance?' They could neither of them do it. All they could say was, 'Our

experience justifies us in believing that you will grow out of it; but it does not justify us in saying when.'

'Then, I may be years growing out of it?' They were obliged to own that it might be so. 'Or I may never grow

out of it, at all?' They tried to turn the conversation. I wouldn't have it. I said, 'Tell me honestly, is that one of

the possibilities, in my case?' The Dimchurch doctor looked at the London doctor. The London man said, 'If

you will have it, it is one of the possibilities.' Just consider the prospect which his answer placed before me!

Day after day, week after week, month after month, always in danger, go where I may, of falling down in a

"Add to that wretched state of things that I am engaged to be married. The hardest disappointment which can

fall on a man, falls on me. The happiness of my life is within my reachand I am forbidden to enjoy it. It is

not only my health that is broken up, my prospects in life are ruined as well. The woman I love is a woman

forbidden to me while I suffer as I suffer now. Realize thatand then fancy you see a man sitting at this

table here, with pen, ink, and paper before him, who has only to scribble a line or two, and to begin the cure

of you from that moment. Deliverance in a few months from the horror of the fits; marriage in a few months

to the woman you love. That heavenly prospect in exchange for the hellish existence that you are enduring

now. And the one price to pay for it, a discolored face for the rest of your lifewhich the one person who is

dearest to you will never see? Would you have hesitated? When the doctor took up the pen to write the

I still sat silent. My obstinacywomen are such mules!declined to give way, even when my conscience

He sprang to his feet, in the same fever of excitement which I remembered so well, when I had irritated him

"Would you have said, No?" he reiterated, stooping over me, flushed and heated, as he had stooped on that

first occasion, when he had whispered his name in my ear. "Would you?" he repeated, louder and

At the third reiteration of the words, the frightful contortion that I knew so well, seized on his face. The

wrench to the right twisted his body. He dropped at my feet. Good God! who could have declared that he was

wrong, with such an argument in his favor as I saw at that moment? Who would not have said that any

The servant ran in, and helped me to move the furniture to a safe distance from him, "There won't be much

more of it, ma'am," said the man, noticing my agitation, and trying to compose me. "In a month or two, the

doctor says the medicine will get hold of him." I could say nothing on my sideI could only reproach

myself bitterly for disputing with him and exciting him, and leading perhaps to the hideous seizure which had

The fit on this occasion was a short one. Perhaps the drug was already beginning to have some influence over

him? In twenty minutes, he was able to resume his chair, and to go on talking to me.

"You think I shall horrify you when my face has turned blue," he said with a faint smile. "Don't I horrify you

"God knows," I said, "you have convinced meobstinate as I am. Let us try to think of nothing now but of

"You have great influence over Lucilla," he said. "If she expresses any curiosity, in future conversations with

you, about the effect of the medicine, check her at once. Keep her as ignorant of it as she is now!"

"Why! If she knows what you know, how will she feel? Shocked and horrified, as you felt. What will she do?

She will come straight here, and try, as you have tried, to persuade me to give it up. Is that true or not?"

"I am so fond of her," he went on, "that I can refuse her nothing. She would end in making me give it up. The

instant her back was turned, I should repent my own weakness, and return to the medicine. Here is a

perpetual struggle in prospect, for a man who is already worn out. Is it desirable, after what you have just

It would have been useless cruelty to expose him to it. How could I do otherwise than consent to make his

sacrifice of himselfhis necessary sacrificeas easy as I could? At the same time, I implored him to

"Mind," I said, "we can never hope to keep her in ignorance of the change in you, when the change comes.

"I only want it to be concealed from her while the disfigurement of me is in progress," he answered. "When

nothing she can say or do will alter itI will tell her myself. She is so happy in the hope of my recovery!

What good can be gained by telling her beforehand of the penalty that I pay for my deliverance? My ugly

color will never terrify my poor darling. As for other persons, I shall not force myself on the view of the

world. It is my one wish to live out of the world. The few people about me will soon get reconciled to my

face. Lucilla will set them the example. She won't trouble herself long about a change in me that she can

Ought I to have warned him here of Lucilla's inveterate prejudice, and of the difficulty there might be in

reconciling her to the change in him when she heard of it? I dare say I ought, I daresay I was to blame in

shrinking from inflicting new anxieties and new distresses on a man who had already suffered so much. The

simple truth isI could not do it. Would you have done it? Ah, if you would, I hope I may never come in

contact with you. What a horrid wretch you must be! The end of it was that I left the housepledged to keep

Lucilla in ignorance of the cost at which Oscar had determined to purchase his cure, until Oscar thought fit to

THE promise I had given did not expose me to the annoyance of being kept long on the watch against

accidents. If we could pass safely over the next five days, we might feel pretty sure of the future. On the last

day of the old year, Lucilla was bound by the terms of the will to go to London, and live her allotted three

In the brief interval that elapsed before her departure, she twice approached the dangerous subject.

On the first occasion, she asked me if I knew what medicine Oscar was taking. I pleaded ignorance, and

passed at once to other matters. On the second occasion, she advanced still further on the way to discovery of

the truth. She now inquired if I had heard how the physic worked the cure. Having been already informed that

the fits proceeded from a certain disordered condition of the brain, she was anxious to know whether the

medical treatment was likely to affect the patient's head. This question (which I was of course unable to

answer) she put to both the doctors. Already warned by Oscar, they quieted her by declaring that the process

of cure acted by general means, and did not attack the head. From that moment, her curiosity was satisfied.

Her mind had other objects of interest to dwell on, before she left Dimchurch. She touched on the perilous

It was arranged that I was to accompany Lucilla to London. Oscar was to follow us, when the state of his

health permitted him to take the journey. As betrothed husband of Lucilla, he had his right of entry, during

her residence in her aunt's house. As for me, I was admitted at Lucilla's intercession. She declined to be

Miss Batchford wrote, most politely, to offer me a hospitable welcome during the day. She had no second

spareroom at her disposalso we settled that I was to sleep at a lodginghouse in the neighborhood. In this

same house, Oscar was also to be accommodated, when the doctors sanctioned his removal to London. It was

now thought likelyif all went wellthat the marriage might be celebrated at the end of the three months,

Three days before the date of Lucilla's departure, these plansso far as I was concerned in themwere all

A letter from Paris reached me, with more bad news. My absence had produced the worst possible effect on

The moment my influence had been removed, he had become perfectly unmanageable. My sisters assured me

that the abominable woman from whom I had rescued him, would most certainly end in marrying him after

all, unless I reappeared immediately on the scene. What was to be done? Nothing was to be done, but to fly

into a rageto grind my teeth, and throw down all my things, in the solitude of my own roomand then to

Lucilla behaved charmingly. When she saw how angry and how distressed I was, she suppressed all

exhibition of disappointment on her side, with the truest and kindest consideration for my feelings. "Write to

me often," said the charming creature, "and come back to me as soon as you can." Her father took her to

London. Two days before they left, I said goodbye at the rectory and at Browndown; and startedonce

I was in no humour (as your English saying is) to mince matters, in controlling this new outbreak on the part

of my evergreen parent. I insisted on instantly removing him from Paris, and taking him on a continental tour.

I was proof against his paternal embraces; I was deaf to his noble sentiments. He declared he should die on

the road. When I look back at it now, I am amazed at my own cruelty. I said, "En route, Papa!"and packed

He became enamored, at intervals, now of one fair traveler and now of another, all through the journey from

Paris to Rome. (Wonderful old man!) Arrived at Romethat hotbed of the enemies of mankindI saw my

way to putting a moral extinguisher on the author of my being. The Eternal City contains three hundred and

sixtyfive churches, and (say) three million and sixtyfive pictures. I insisted on his seeing them allat the

advanced age of seventyfive years! The sedative result followed, exactly as I had anticipated. I stupefied

good Papa with churches and picturesand then I tried him with a marble woman to begin with. He fell

asleep before the Venus of the Capitol. When I saw that, I said to myself, Now he will do; Don Juan is

Lucilla's correspondence with meat first cheerfulgradually assumed a desponding tone.

Six weeks had passed since her departure from Dimchurch; and still Oscar's letters held out no hope of his

being able to join her in London. His recovery was advancing, but not so rapidly as his medical adviser had

anticipated. It was possibleto look the worst in the face boldlythat he might not get the doctor's

permission to leave Browndown before the time arrived for Lucilla's return to the rectory. In this event, he

could only entreat her to be patient, and to remember that though he was gaining ground but slowly, he was

still getting on. Under these circumstances, Lucilla was naturally vexed and dejected. She had never (she

wrote), from her girlhood upward, spent such a miserable time with her aunt as she was spending now.

I corresponded with Oscar almost as frequently as with Lucilla. His last letter to me flatly contradicted his

last letter to his promised wife. In writing to my address, he declared himself to be rapidly advancing towards

recovery. Under the new treatment, the fits succeeded each other at longer and longer intervals, and endured a

shorter and shorter time. Here then was plainly a depressing report sent to Lucilla, and an encouraging report

"I told you in my last" (he wrote), "that the discoloration of my skin had begun. The complexion which you

were once so good as to admire, has disappeared for ever. I am now of a livid ashen colorso like death, that

I sometimes startle myself when I look in the glass. In about six weeks more, as the doctor calculates, this

will deepen to a blackish blue; and then, 'the saturation' (as he calls it) will be complete.

"So far from feeling any useless regrets at having taken the medicine which is producing these ugly effects, I

am more grateful to my Nitrate of Silver than words can say. If you ask for the secret of this extraordinary

exhibition of philosophy on my part, I can give it in one line. For the last ten days, I have not had a fit. In

other words, for the last ten days, I have lived in Paradise. I declare I would have cheerfully lost an arm or a

leg to gain the blessed peace of mind, the intoxicating confidence in the futureit is nothing lessthat I feel

"Still there is a drawback which prevents me from enjoying perfect tranquillity even yet. When was there

ever a pleasure in this world, without a lurking possibility of pain hidden away in it somewhere?

"I have lately discovered a peculiarity in Lucilla which is new to me, and which has produced a very

unpleasant impression on my mind. My proposed avowal to her of the change in my personal appearance, has

now become a matter of far more serious difficulty than I had anticipated when the question was discussed

"Have you ever found out that the strongest antipathy she has, is her purely imaginary antipathy to dark

people and to dark shades of color of all kinds? This strange prejudice is the result, as I suppose, of some

morbid growth of her blindness, quite as inexplicable to herself as to other people. Explicable, or not, there it

is in her. Read the extract that follows from one of her letters to her father, which her father showed to

meand you will not be surprised to hear that I tremble for myself when the time comes for telling her what

" 'I am sorry to say, I have had a little quarrel with my aunt. It is all made up now, but it has hardly left us

such good friends as we were before. Last week, there was a dinnerparty here; and, among the guests, was a

Hindoo gentleman (converted to Christianity) to whom my aunt has taken a great fancy. While the maid was

dressing me, I unluckily inquired if she had seen the Hindooand, hearing that she had, I still more

unfortunately asked her to tell me what he was like. She described him as being very tall and lean, with a dark

brown complexion and glittering black eyes. My mischievous fancy instantly set to work on this horrid

combination of darknesses. Try as I might to resist it, my mind drew a dreadful picture of the Hindoo, as a

kind of monster in human form. I would have given worlds to have been excused from going down into the

drawingroom. At the last moment I was sent for, and the Hindoo was introduced to me. The instant I felt

him approaching, my darkness was peopled with brown demons. He took my hand. I tried hard to control

myselfbut I really could not help shuddering and starting back when he touched me. To make matters

worse, he sat next to me at dinner. In five minutes I had long, lean, blackeyed beings all round me;

perpetually growing in numbers, and pressing closer and closer on me as they grew. It ended in my being

obliged to leave the table. When the guests were all gone, my aunt was furious. I admitted my conduct was

unreasonable in the last degree. At the same time, I begged her to make allowances for me. I reminded her

that I was blind at a year old, and that I had really no idea of what any person was like, except by drawing

pictures of them in my imagination, from description, and from my own knowledge obtained by touch. I

appealed to her to remember that, situated as I am, my fancy is peculiarly liable to play me tricks, and that I

have no sight to see with, and to show meas other people's eyes show themwhen they have taken a false

view of persons and things. It was all in vain. My aunt would admit of no excuse for me. I was so irritated by

her injustice, that I reminded her of an antipathy of her own, quite as ridiculous as minean antipathy to

cats. She, who can see that cats are harmless, shudders and turns pale, for all that, if a cat is in the same room

with her. Set my senseless horror of dark people against her senseless horror of catsand say which of us

Such was the quotation from Lucilla's letter to her father. At the end of it, Oscar resumed, as follows:

"I wonder whether you will now understand me, if I own to you that I have made the worst of my case in

writing to Lucilla? It is the only excuse I can produce for not joining her in London. Weary as I am of our

long separation, I cannot prevail on myself to run the risk of meeting her in the presence of strangers, who

would instantly notice my frightful color, and betray it to her. Think of her shuddering and starting back from

my hand when it took hers! No! no! I must choose my own opportunity, in this quiet place, of telling her

what (I suppose) must be toldwith time before me to prepare her mind for the disclosure (if it must come),

and with nobody but you near to see the first mortifying effect of the shock which I shall inflict on her.

"I have only to add, before I release you, that I write these lines in the strictest confidence. You have

promised not to mention my disfigurement to Lucilla, unless I first give you leave. I now, more than ever,

hold you to that promise. The few people about me here, are all pledged to secrecy as you are. If it is really

inevitable that she should know the truthI alone must tell it; in my own way, and at my own time."

"If it must come," "if it is really inevitable"these phrases in Oscar's letter satisfied me that he was already

beginning to comfort himself with an insanely delusive ideathe idea that it might be possible permanently

If I had been at Dimchurch, I have no doubt I should have begun to feel seriously uneasy at the turn which

But distance has a very strange effect in altering one's customary way of thinking of affairs at home. Being in

Italy instead of in England, I dismissed Lucilla's antipathies and Oscar's scruples, as both alike unworthy of

serious consideration. Sooner or later, time (I considered) would bring these two troublesome young people

to their senses. Their marriage would follow, and there would be an end of it! In the meanwhile, I continued

to feast good Papa on Holy Families and churches. Ah, poor dear, how he yawned over Caraccis and cupolas!

and how fervently he promised never to fall in love again, if I would only take him back to Paris!

We set our faces homeward a day or two after the receipt of Oscar's letter. I left my reformed father, resting

his aching old bones in his own easychair; capable perhaps, even yet, of contracting a Platonic attachment to

a lady of his own time of lifebut capable (as I firmly believed) of nothing more. "Oh, my child, let me

rest!" he said, when I wished him goodbye. "And never show me a church or a picture again as long as I

I REACHED London in the last week of Lucilla's residence under her aunt's roof, and waited in town until it

As soon as it had become obviously too late for Oscar to risk the dreaded meeting with Lucilla before

strangers, his correspondence had, as a matter of course, assumed a brighter tone. She was in high spirits once

more, poor thing, when we metand full of delight at having me near her again. We thoroughly enjoyed our

few days in Londonand took our fill of music at operas and concerts. I got on excellently well with the

aunt until the last day, when something happened which betrayed me into an avowal of my political

The old lady's consternation, when she discovered that I looked hopefully forward to a coming extermination

of kings and priests, and a general redistribution of property all over the civilized globe, is unutterable in

words. On that occasion, I made one more aristocrat tremble. I also closed Miss Batchford's door on me for

the rest of my life. No matter! The day is coming when the Batchford branch of humanity will not possess a

door to close. All Europe is drifting nearer and nearer to the Pratolungo programme. Cheer up, my brothers

without land, and my sisters without money in the Funds! We will have it out with the infamous rich yet.

Early in the month of April, Lucilla and I took leave of the Metropolis, and went back to Dimchurch.

As we drew nearer and nearer to the rectory, as Lucilla began to flush and fidget in eager anticipation of her

reunion with Oscar, that uneasiness of mind which I had so readily dismissed while I was in Italy, began to

find its way back to me again. My imagination now set to work at drawing picturesstartling pictures of

Oscar as a changed being, as a Medusa's head too terrible to be contemplated by mortal eyes. Where would

he meet us? At the entrance to the village? No. At the rectory gate? No. In the quieter part of the garden

Lucilla flew into his arms with a cry of delight. I stood behind and looked at them.

Ah, how vividly I rememberat the moment when she embraced himthe first shock of seeing the two

faces together! The drug had done its work. I saw her fair cheek laid innocently against the livid blackish blue

of his discolored skin. Heavens, how cruelly that first embrace marked the contrast between what he had been

when I left him, and what he had changed to when I saw him now! His eyes turned from her face to mine, in

silent appeal to me while he held her in his arms. Their look told me the thought in him, as eloquently as if he

had put it into words. "You, who love her, saycan we ever be cruel enough to tell her of this?"

I approached to take his hand. At the same moment, Lucilla suddenly drew back from him, laid her left hand

For an instant I felt my heart stand still. Her miraculous sensitiveness of touch had detected the dark color of

my dress, on the day when we first met. Would it serve her, this time, as truly as it had served her then?

She paused, after the first passage of her fingers over his face, with the breathless attention to what she was

about, which, in my own case, I remembered so well. A second time, she passed her hand over

"What does his face tell you?" she asked. "It tells me that he has something on his mind. What is it?"

We were safeso far! The hateful medicine, in altering the color, had not affected the texture, of his skin. As

her touch had left it on her departure, so her touch found it again, on her return.

"Nothing is wrong, my darling," he said. "My nerves are a little out of order today; and the joy of seeing you

"No," she said, "it's not all." She touched his heart. "Why is it beating so fast?" She took his hand in hers.

At that awkward moment, the most wearisome of living men suddenly proved himself to be the most

welcome of living men. The rector appeared in the garden, to receive his daughter on her return. Enfolded in

Reverend Finch's paternal embraces; harangued by Reverend Finch's prodigious voice, Lucilla was

effectually silencedthe subject was inevitably changed. Oscar drew me aside out of hearing, while her

"I saw you," he said. "You were horrified at the first sight of me. You were relieved when you found that her

touch told her nothing. Help me to keep her from suspecting it, for two months moreand you will be the

"Yes. If there is no return of the fits in two months, the doctor will consider my recovery complete. Lucilla

"Come! come! you know what I mean! Is it honorable first to entrap her into marrying youand then to

"I shall fill her with horror of me, if I confess it. Look at me! look at me!" he said, lifting his ghastly hands in

"Be a man!" I said. "Own it boldly. What is she going to marry you for? For your face that she can never see?

No! For your heart that is one with her own. Trust to her natural good senseand, better than that, to the

devoted love that you have inspired in her. She will see her stupid prejudice in its true light, when she feels it

"No! no! no! Remember her letter to her father. I shall lose her for ever, if I tell her now!"

I took his arm, and endeavored to lead him to Lucilla. She as already trying to escape from her father; she

He obstinately shrank back. I began to feel angry with him. In another moment, I should have said or done

something that I might have repented of afterwardsif a new interruption had not happened before I could

Another person appeared in the gardenthe manservant from Browndown; with a letter for his master in

"This has just come, sir," said the man, "by the afternoon post. It is marked 'Immediate.' I thought I had better

Oscar took the letter, and looked at the address. "My brother's writing!" he exclaimed. "A letter from

He opened the letterand burst out with a cry of joy which brought Lucilla instantly to his side.

"Nugent is coming back! Nugent will be here in a week! Oh, Lucilla! my brother is coming to stay with me at

He caught her in his arms, and kissed her, in the first rapture of receiving that welcome news. She forced

herself away from him without answering a word. She turned her poor blind face round and round, in the

She roughly and angrily put her arm in mine. I saw the jealous misery in her face as she dragged me away

with here to the house. Never yet had Oscar's voice, in her experience of him, sounded the note of happiness

that she heard in it now! Never yet had she felt Oscar's heart on Oscar's lips, as she felt it when he kissed her

"Can he hear me?" she whispered, when we had left the lawn, and she felt the gravel under her feet.

LITTLE thinking what a storm he had raised, poor innocent Oscarpaternally escorted by the

Judging by certain signs visible in my reverend friend, I concluded that the announcement of Nugent

Dubourg's coming visit to Dimchurchregarded by the rest of us as heralding the appearance of a

twinbrotherwas regarded by Mr. Finch as promising the arrival of a twinfortune. Oscar and Nugent

"Compose yourself," I whispered to Lucilla as the two gentlemen followed us into the sittingroom. "Your

jealousy of his brother is a childish jealousy. There is room enough in his heart for his brother as well as for

She only repeated obstinately, with a vicious pinch on my arm, "I hate his brother!"

"Come and sit down by me," said Oscar, approaching her on the other side. "I want to run over Nugent's

letter. It's so interesting! There is a message in it to you." Too deeply absorbed in his subject to notice the

sullen submission with which she listened to him, he placed her on a chair, and began reading. "The first

lines," he explained, "relate to Nugent's return to England, and to his delightful idea of coming to stay with

me at Browndown. Then he goes on: 'I found all your letters waiting for me on my return to New York. Need

" 'Need I tell you, my dearest brother, how deeply you have interested me by the announcement of your

contemplated marriage? Your happiness is my happiness. I feel with you; I congratulate you; I long to see my

She walked to the other end of the room. Patient Oscar walked after her, with his precious letter in his hand.

He offered her a third chair. She petulantly declined to take it, and selected another chair for herself. Oscar

" 'How melancholy, and yet how interesting it is, to hear that she is blind! My sketches of American scenery

happened to be lying about in the room when I read your letter. The first thought that came to me, on hearing

of Miss Finch's affliction, was suggested by my sketches. I said to myself, "Sad! sad! my sisterinlaw will

never see my Works." The true artist, Oscar, is always thinking of his Works. I shall bring back, let me tell

you, some very remarkable studies for future pictures. They will not be so numerous, perhaps, as you may

expect. I prefer to trust to my intellectual perception of beauty, rather than to mere laborious transcripts from

Nature. In certain moods of mine (speaking as an artist) Nature puts me out.' " There Oscar paused, and

appealed to me. "What writing!eh? I always told you, Madame Pratolungo, that Nugent was a genius. You

see it now. Don't get up, Lucilla. I am going on. There is a message to you in this part of the letter. So neatly

Lucilla persisted in getting up; the announcement of the neatlyexpressed message to be read next, produced

no effect on her. She walked to the window, and trifled impatiently with the flowers placed in it. Oscar

looked in mild astonishment, first at methen at the rector. Reverend Finchlistening thus far with the

complimentary attention due to the correspondence of one young man of fortune with another young man of

"My dear Lucilla, endeavor to control your restlessness. You interfere with our enjoyment of this interesting

letter. I could wish to see fewer changes of place, my child, and a more undivided attention to what Oscar is

"I am not interested in what he is reading to me." In the nervous irritation which produced this ungracious

answer, she overthrew one of the flowerpots. Oscar set it up again for her with undiminished goodtemper.

"Not interested!" he exclaimed. "Wait a little. You haven't heard Nugent's message yet. Listen to this!

'Present my best and kindest regards to the future Mrs. Oscar' (dear fellow!); 'and say that she has given me a

new interest in hastening my return to England.' There! Isn't that prettily put? Come Lucilla! own that Nugent

She turned towards him for the first time. The charm of the tone in which he spoke those words subdued her,

"I am much obliged to your brother," she answered gently, "and very much ashamed of myself for what I said

just now." She stole her hand into his, and whispered, "You are so fond of NugentI begin to be almost

Oscar was enchanted. "Wait till you see him, and you will be as fond of him as I am," he said. "Nugent is not

like me. He fascinates people the moment they come in contact with him. Nobody can resist Nugent."

She still held his hand, with a perplexed and saddened face. The admirable absence of any jealousy on his

sidehis large and generous confidence in her love for himwas just the rebuke to her that she could feel;

"Go on, Oscar," said the rector, in his deepest notes of encouragement. "What next, dear boy? what next?"

"Another interesting bit, of quite a new kind," Oscar replied. "There is a little mystery to stir us up on the last

page of the letter. Nugent says:'I have become acquainted (here, in New York) with a very remarkable

man, a German who has made a great deal of money in the United States. He proposes visiting England early

in the present year; and he will write and let me know when he has arrived. I shall feel particular pleasure in

presenting him to you and your future wife. It is quite possible that you may have special reason to

congratulate yourselves on making his acquaintance. For the present, no more of my new friend until we meet

at Browndown.''Special reason to congratulate ourselves on making his acquaintance.' " repeated Oscar,

folding up the letter. "Nugent never writes in that way without a reason for it. Who can the German

Mr. Finch suddenly lifted his head, and looked at Oscar with a certain appearance of alarm.

"Your brother mentions that he has made his fortune in America," said the Reverend gentleman. "I hope he is

not connected with the moneymarket. He might infect Mr. Nugent with the spirit of reckless speculation

which is, so to speak, the national sin of the United States. Your brother, having no doubt the same generous

"Possessed, like you, of the gifts of fortune," proceeded the rector, with mounting enthusiasm.

"Once possessed of them," said Oscar. "Far from being overburdened with the gifts of fortune, now!"

"Nugent has run through his fortune," proceeded Oscar, quite composedly. "I lent him the money to go to

America. My brother is a genius, Mr. Finch. When did you ever hear of a genius who could keep within

limits? Nugent is not content to live in my humble way. He has the tastes of a princemoney is nothing to

him. It doesn't matter. He will make a new fortune Out of his pictures; and, in the meantime, you know, I can

Mr. Finch rose from his seat, with the air of a man whose just anticipations have not been realizedwhose

innocent confidence has been scandalously betrayed. Here was a prospect! Another person in perpetual want

of money, going to settle under the shadow of the rectory! Another man likely to borrow of Oscarand that

"I fail to take your light view of your brother's extravagance," said the rector, addressing Oscar with his

loftiest severity of manner, at the door. "I deplore and reprehend Mr. Nugent's misuse of the bounty bestowed

on him by an allwise Providence. You will do well to consider, before you encourage your brother's

extravagance by lending him money. What does the great poet of humanity say of lenders? The Bard of Avon

tells us, that 'loan oft loses both itself and friend.' Lay that noble line to heart, Oscar! Lucilla, be on your

guard against that restlessness which I have already had occasion to reprove. I find I must leave you, Madame

Pratolungo. I had forgotten my parish duties. My parish duties are waiting for me. Good day! good day!"

He looked round on us all three, in turn, with a very sour face, and walked out. "Surely," I thought to myself,

"this brother of Oscar's is not beginning well! First, the daughter takes offense at him, and now the father

follows her example. Even on the other side of the Atlantic, Mr. Nugent Dubourg exercises a malignant

influence, and disturbs the family tranquillity before he has shown his nose in the house!"

Nothing more that is worth recording happened on that day. We had a very dull evening. Lucilla was out of

spirits. As for me, I had not yet had time to accustom myself to the shocking spectacle of Oscar's discolored

face. I was serious and silent. You would never have guessed me to be a Frenchwoman, if you had seen me

The next day a small domestic event happened, which must be chronicled in this place.

Our Dimchurch doctor, always dissatisfied with his position in an obscure country place, had obtained an

appointment in India which offered great professional advantages to an ambitious man. He called to take

leave of us on his departure. I found an opportunity of speaking to him about Oscar. He entirely agreed with

me that the attempt to keep the change produced in his former patient by the Nitrate of Silver from Lucilla's

knowledge, was simply absurd. The truth would reach her, he said, before many days were over our heads.

With that prediction, addressed to my private ear, he left us. The removal of him from the scene was, you will

please to bear in mind, the removal of an important local witness to the medical treatment of Oscar, and was,

as such, an incident with a bearing of its own on the future, which claims a place for it in the present

Two more days passed, and nothing happened. On the morning of the third day, the doctor's prophecy was all

but fulfilled, through the medium of the wandering Arab of the family, our funny little Jicks.

While Lucilla and I were strolling about the garden with Oscar, the child suddenly darted out on us from

behind a tree, and, seizing Oscar round the legs, hailed him affectionately at the top of her voice as "The Blue

Man!" Lucilla instantly stopped, and said, "Who do you call 'The Blue Man'?" Jicks answered boldly,

"Oscar." Lucilla caught the child up in her arms. "Why do you call Oscar 'The Blue Man'?" she asked. Jicks

pointed to Oscar's face, and then, remembering Lucilla's blindness, appealed to me. "You tell her!" said Jicks,

in high glee. Oscar seized my hand, and looked at me imploringly. I determined not to interfere. It was bad

enough to remain passive, and to let her be kept in the dark. Actively, I was resolved to take no part in

deceiving her. Her color rose; she put Jicks down on the ground. "Are you both dumb?" she asked. "Oscar! I

insist on knowing ithow have you got the nickname of 'The Blue Man'?" Left helpless, Oscar (to my

disgust) took refuge in a lieand, worse still, a clumsy lie. He declared that he had got his nickname in the

nursery, at the time of Lucilla's absence in London, by one day painting his face in the character of Bluebeard

to amuse the children! If Lucilla had felt the faintest suspicion of the truth, blind as she was, she must now

have discovered it. As things were, Oscar annoyed and irritated her. I could see that it cost her a struggle to

suppress something like a feeling of contempt for him. "Amuse the children, the next time, in some other

way," she said. "Though I can't see you, still I don't like to hear of your disfiguring your face by painting it

blue." With that answer, she walked away a little by herself, evidently disappointed in her betrothed husband

He cast another imploring look at me. "Did you hear what she said about my face?" he whispered.

"You have lost an excellent opportunity of speaking out," I answered. "I believe you will bitterly regret the

"Nugent doesn't think as you do," he said, handing me the letter. "Read that bit therenow Lucilla is out of

I paused for a moment before I could read. The resemblance between the twins extended even to their

handwritings! If I had picked Nugent's letter up, I should have handed it to Oscar as a letter of Oscar's own

The paragraph to which he pointed, only contained these lines:"Your last relieves my anxiety about your

health. I entirely agree with you that any personal sacrifice which cures you of those horrible attacks is a

sacrifice wisely made. As to your keeping the change a secret from the young lady, I can only say that I

suppose you know best how to act in this emergency. I will abstain from forming any opinion of my own

"There is no very warm approval there of the course you are taking," I said. "The only difference between

"I have no fear of my brother," Oscar answered. "Nugent will feel for me, and understand me, when he comes

He stooped over Jicks. The child, while we were talking, had laid herself down luxuriously on the grass, and

was singing to herself little snatches of a nursery song. Oscar pulled her up on her legs rather roughly. He

"I am going to see Mr. Finch," he answered, "and to have Jicks kept for the future out of Lucilla's garden."

"Mr. Finch, Madame Pratolungo, leaves me to decide on a matter which concerns nobody but Lucilla and

After that reply, there was an end of all further remonstrance from me, as a matter of course.

Oscar walked off with his prisoner to the house. Jicks trotted along by his side, unconscious of the mischief

she had done, singing another verse of the nursery song. I rejoined Lucilla, with my mind made up as to the

line of conduct I should adopt in the future. If Oscar did succeed in keeping the truth concealed from her, I

was positively resolved, come what might of it, to enlighten her before they were married, with my own lips.

What! after pledging myself to keep the secret? Yes. Perish the promise which makes me false to a person

Two days more slipped byand then a telegram found its way to Browndown. Oscar came running to us, at

the rectory, with his news. Nugent had landed at Liverpool. Oscar was to expect him at Dimchurch on the

I HAVE thus far quite inadvertently omitted to mention one of the prominent virtues of Reverend Finch. He

was an accomplished master of that particular form of human persecution which is called reading aloud; and

he inflicted his accomplishment on his family circle at every available opportunity. Of what we suffered on

these occasions, I shall say nothing. Let it be enough to mention that the rector thoroughly enjoyed the

There was no escaping Mr. Finch when the rage for "reading" seized on him. Now on one pretense, and now

on another, he descended on us unfortunate women, book in hand; seated us at one end of the room; placed

himself at the other; opened his dreadful mouth; and fired words at us, like shots at a target, by the hour

together. Sometimes he gave us poetical readings from Shakespeare or Milton; and sometimes Parliamentary

speeches by Burke or Sheridan. Read what he might, he made such a noise and such a fuss over it; he put his

own individuality so prominently in the foremost place, and he kept the poets or the orators whom he was

supposed to be interpreting so far in the back ground, that they lost every trace of character of their own, and

became one and all perfectly intolerable reflections of Mr. Finch. I date my first unhappy doubts of the

supreme excellence of Shakespeare's poetry from the rector's readings; and I attribute to the same

exasperating cause my implacable hostility (on every question of the time) to the policy of Mr. Burke. On the

evening when Nugent Dubourg was expected at Browndownand when we particularly wanted to be left

alone to dress ourselves, and to gossip by anticipation about the expected visitorMr. Finch was seized with

one of his periodical rages for firing off words at his family, after tea. He selected Hamlet as the medium for

exhibiting his voice, on this occasion; and he declared, as the principal motive for taking his elocutionary

"My good creature, I accidentally heard you reading to Lucilla, the other day. It was very nice, as far as it

wentvery nice indeed. But you will allow meas a person, Madame Pratolungo, possessing considerable

practice in the art of reading aloudto observe that you might be benefited by a hint or two. I will give you a

few ideas. (Mrs. Finch! I propose giving Madame Pratolungo a few ideas.) Pay particular attention, if you

please, to the Pauses, and to the management of the Voice at the end of the lines. Lucilla, my child, you are

interested in this. The perfecting of Madame Pratolungo is a matter of considerable importance to you. Don't

Lucilla and I happened, on that evening, to be guests at the rectory table. It was one of the regular occasions

on which we left our own side of the house, and joined the family at (what Mr. Finch called) "the pastor's

evening meal." He had got his wife; he had got his eldest daughter; he had got your humble servant. A horrid

smile of enjoyment overspread the reverend gentleman's face, as he surveyed us from the opposite end of the

"Hamlet: Act the First; Scene the First. Elsinore. A Platform before the Castle. Francisco on his post" (Mr.

Finch). "Enter to him Bernardo" (Mr. Finch). "Who's there?" "Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself."

(Mrs. Finch unfolds herselfshe suckles the baby, and tries to look as if she was having an intellectual

treat.) "Francisco and Bernardo converse in bassBoomboomboom. Enter Horatio and Marcellus" (Mr.

Finch and Mr. Finch.) "Stand! Who's there?" "Friends to this ground." "And liegemen to the Dane." (Madame

Pratolungo begins to feel the elocutionary exposition of Shakespeare, where she always feels it, in her legs.

She tries to sit still on her chair. Useless! She is suffering under the malady known to her by bitter experience

of Mr. Finch, as the HamletFidgets.) Bernardo and Franciso, Horatio and Marcellus,

converseBoomboomboom. "Enter Ghost of Hamlet's Father." Mr. Finch makes an awful pause. In the

supernatural silence, we can hear the baby sucking. Mrs. Finch enjoys her intellectual treat. Madame

Pratolungo fidgets. Lucilla catches the infection, and fidgets too. MarcellusFinch goes on. "Thou art a

scholar, speak to it, Horatio." BernardoFinch backs him: "Looks it not like the King? Mark it, Horatio."

LucillaFinch inserts herself in the dialogue: "Papa, I am very sorry; I have had a nervous headache all day;

please excuse me if I take a turn in the garden." The rector makes another awful pause, and glares at his

daughter. (Exit Lucilla.) Horatio looks at the Ghost, and takes up the dialogue: "Most like; it harrows me

"Boomboomboom. The baby is satiated. Mrs. Finch wants her handkerchief. Madame Pratolungo seizes

the opportunity of moving her distracted legs, and finds the handkerchief. Mr. Finch pausesglaresgoes

on againreaches the second scene. "Enter the King, Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, Voltimand,

Cornelius, and Lords Attendant." All Mr. Finch! oh, my legs! my legs! all Mr. Finch, and

Boomboomboom. Third scene. "Enter Laertes and Ophelia." (Both Rectors of Dimchurch; both with deep

bass voices; both about five feet high, pitted with the smallpox, and adorned round the neck with dingy

white cravats.) Mr. Finch goes on and on and on. Mrs. Finch and the baby simultaneously close their eyes in

slumber. Madame Pratolungo suffers such tortures of restlessness in her lower limbs, that she longs for a

skilled surgeon to take out his knife and deliver her from her own legs. Mr. Finch advances in deeper and

deeper bass, in keener and keener enjoyment, to the Fourth Scene. ("Enter Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus.")

Mercy! what do I hear? Is relief approaching to us from the world outside? Are there footsteps in the hall?

Yes! Mrs. Finch opens her eyes; Mrs. Finch hears the footsteps, and rejoices in them as I do. Reverend

Hamlet hears nothing but his own voice. He begins the scene: "The air bites shrewdly. It is very cold." The

door opens. The rector feels a gust of air, dramatically appropriate, just at the right moment. He looks round.

If it is a servant, let that domestic person tremble! Nonot a servant. Guestsheavens be praised, guests.

Welcome, gentlemenwelcome! No more Hamlet, tonight, thanks to You. Enter two Characters who must

be instantly attended to:Mr. Oscar Dubourg; introducing his twinbrother from America, Mr. Nugent

Astonishment at the extraordinary resemblance between them, was the one impression felt by all three of us,

Exactly alike in their height, in their walk, in their features, and in their voices. Both with the same colored

hair and the same beardless faces. Oscar's smile exactly reflected on Nugent's lips. Oscar's odd little

semiforeign tricks of gesticulation with his hands, exactly reproduced in the hands of Nugent. And, to

crown it all, there was the complexion which Oscar had lost for ever (just a shade darker perhaps) found

again on Nugent's cheeks! The one difference which made it possible to distinguish between them, at the

moment when they first appeared together in the room, was also the one difference which Lucilla was

physically incapable of detectingthe terrible contrast of color between the brother who bore the blue

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mrs. FinchI have long wished for this pleasure. Thank you, Mr.

Finch, for all your kindness to my brother. Madame Pratolungo, I presume? Permit me to shake hands. It is

needless to say, I have heard of your illustrious husband. Aha! here's a baby. Yours, Mrs. Finch? Girl or boy,

ma'am? A fine childif a bachelor may be allowed to pronounce an opinion. Tweettweettweet!"

He chirruped to the baby, as if he had been a family man, and snapped his fingers gaily. Poor Oscar's blue

face turned in silent triumph towards me. "What did I tell you?" his look asked. "Did I not say Nugent

fascinated everybody at first sight?" Most true. An irresistible man. So utterly different in his manner from

Oscarexcept when he was in reposeand yet so like Oscar in other respects, I can only describe him as

his brother completed. He had the pleasant lively flow of spirits, the easy winning gentlemanlike confidence

in himself, which Oscar wanted. And, then, what excellent taste he possessed. He liked children! he respected

the memory of my glorious Pratolungo!In half a minute from the time when he entered the room, Nugent

He turned from the baby to Mr. Finch, and pointed to the open Shakespeare on the table.

"You were reading to the ladies?" he said. "I am afraid we have interrupted you."

"Don't mention it," said the rector, with his lofty politeness. "Another time will do. It is a habit of mine, Mr.

Nugent, to read aloud in my family circle. As a clergyman and a lover of poetry (in both capacities) I have

Mr. Finch paused, thunderstruck. A man in his presence presuming to have an opinion of his own! a man in

the rectory parlor capable of interrupting the rector in the middle of a sentence! guilty of the insane audacity

"Oh, we heard you as we came in!" proceeded Nugent, with the most undiminished confidence, expressed in

the most gentlemanlike manner. "You read it like this." He took up Hamlet and read the opening line of the

Fourth Scene, ("The air bites shrewdly. It is very cold") with an irresistiblyaccurate imitation of Mr. Finch.

"That's nor the way Hamlet would speak. No man in his position would remark that it was very cold in that

bowwow manner. What is Shakespeare before all things? True to nature; always true to nature. What

condition is Hamlet in when he is expecting to see the Ghost? He is nervous, and he feels the cold. Let him

show it naturally; let him speak as any other man would speak, under the circumstances. Look here! Quick

and quietlike this. 'The air bites shrewdly'there Hamlet stops and shiverspurrerrer! 'it is very cold.'

Mr. Finch lifted his head into the air as high as it could possibly go, and brought the flat of his hand down

"You don't agree with me? All right! Quite useless to dispute about it. I don't know what you may beI am

the most opinionated man in existence. Sheer waste of time, my dear sir, to attempt convincing Me. Now, just

look at that child!" Here Mr. Nugent Dubourg's attention was suddenly attracted by the baby. He twisted

round on his heel, and addressed Mrs. Finch. "I take the liberty of saying, ma'am, that a more senseless dress

doesn't exist, than the dress that is put, in this country, on infants of tender years. What are the three main

functions which that childthat charming child of yoursperforms? He sucks; he sleeps; and he grows. At

the present moment, he isn't sucking, he isn't sleepinghe is growing with all his might. Under those

interesting circumstances, what does he want to do? To move his limbs freely in every direction. You let him

swing his arms to his heart's contentand you deny him freedom to kick his legs. You clothe him in a dress

three times as long as himself. He tries to throw his legs up in the air as he throws his arms, and he can't do it.

There is his senseless long dress entangling itself in his toes, and making an effort of what Nature intended to

be a luxury. Can anything be more absurd? What are mothers about? Why don't they think for themselves?

Take my adviceshort petticoats, Mrs. Finch. Liberty, glorious liberty, for my young friend's legs! Room,

Mrs. Finch listened helplesslylifted the baby's long petticoats, and looked at themstared piteously at

Nugent Dubourgopened her lips to speakand, thinking better of it, turned her watery eyes on her

husband, appealing to him to take the matter up. Mr. Finch made another attempt to assert his dignitya

"In offering your advice to my wife, Mr. Nugent," said the rector, "you must permit me to remark that it

would have had more practical force if it had been the advice of a married man. I beg to remind you"

"You beg to remind me that it is the advice of a bachelor? Oh, come! that really won't do at this time of day.

Doctor Johnson settled that argument at once and for ever, a century since. 'Sir!' (he said to somebody of your

way of thinking) 'you may scold your carpenter, when he has made a bad table, though you can't make a table

yourself.' I say to you'Mr. Finch, you may point out a defect in a baby's petticoats, though you haven't got

a baby yourself!' Doesn't that satisfy you? All right! Take another illustration. Look at your room here. I can

see in the twinkling of an eye, that it's badly lit. You have only got one windowyou ought to have two. Is it

necessary to be a practical builder to discover that? Absurd! Are you satisfied now? No! Take another

illustration. What's this printed paper, here, on the chimneypiece? Assessed Taxes. Ha! Assessed Taxes will

do. You're not in the House of Commons; you're not Chancellor of the Exchequerbut haven't you an

opinion of your own about taxation, in spite of that? Must you and I be in Parliament before we can presume

"And the vigorous young Republic drawing its first breath of life!" I burst in; introducing the Pratolungo

Nugent Dubourg instantly wheeled round in my direction; and set me right on my subject, just as he had set

"Not a bit of it!" he pronounced positively. "The 'young Republic' is the ricketty child of the political family.

I tried to assert myself as the rector had tried before mewith precisely the same result. I appealed

"Was an honest man," interposed Nugent Dubourg. "I am an advanced Liberal myselfI respect him. But he

was quite wrong. All sincere republicans make the same mistake. They believe in the existence of public

spirit in Europe. Amiable delusion! Public spirit is dead in Europe. Public spirit is the generous emotion of

young nations, of new peoples. In selfish old Europe, private interest has taken its place. When your husband

preached the republic, on what ground did he put it? On the ground that the republic was going to elevate the

nation. Pooh! Ask me to accept the republic, on the ground that I elevate Myselfand, supposing you can

prove it, I will listen to you. If you are ever to set republican institutions going, in the Old Worldthere is

"Would have died rather than appeal to the meanest instincts of his fellowcreatures. Just so! There was his

mistake. That's why he never could make anything of the republic. That's why the republic is the ricketty

child of the political family. Quod erat demonstrandum," said Nugent Dubourg, finishing me off with a

pleasant smile, and an easy indicative gesture of the hand which said, "Now I have settled these three people

His smile was irresistible. Bent as I was on disputing the degrading conclusions at which he had arrived, I

really had not fire enough in me, at the moment, to feed my own indignation. As to Reverend Finch, he sat

silently swelling in a corner; digesting, as he best might, the discovery that there was another man in the

world, besides the Rector of Dimchurch, with an excellent opinion of himself, and with perfectly unassailable

confidence and fluency in expressing it. In the momentary silence that now followed, Oscar got his first

opportunity of speaking. He had, thus far, been quite content to admire his clever brother. He now advanced

"The servant told me she was here," he said. "I am so anxious to introduce her to Nugent."

Nugent put his arm affectionately round his brother's neck, and gave him a hug. "Dear old boy! I am just as

"Lucilla went out a little while since," I said, "to take a turn in the garden."

He left the room. Before he could close the door one of the servants appeared, to claim Mrs. Finch's private

ear, on some mysterious domestic emergency. Nugent facetiously entreated her, as she passed him, to clear

her mind of prejudice, and consider the question of infant petticoats on its own merits. Mr. Finch took offense

"When you are a married man, Mr. Dubourg," said the rector severely, "you will learn to leave the

"There's another mistake!" remarked Nugent, following him with unabated good humour, to the door. "A

married man's idea of another man as a husband, always begins and ends with his idea of himself." He turned

to me, as the door closed on Mr. Finch. "Now we are alone, Madame Pratolungo," he said, "I want to speak to

you about Miss Finch. There is an opportunity, before she comes in. Oscar's letter only told me that she was

blind. I am naturally interested in everything that relates to my brother's future wife. I am particularly

interested about this affliction of hers. May I ask how long she has been blind?"

"I never heard that it was through a fever, or other illness," I said. "So far as I know, the blindness came on

unexpectedly, from some cause that did not express itself to the people about her, at the time."

I began to feel more than a little surprised; and I showed it, I suppose, on telling him Lucilla's age.

"As things are now," he explained, "there are reasons which make me hesitate to enter on the question of

Miss Finch's blindness either with my brother, or with any members of the family. I must wait to speak about

it to them, until I can speak to good practical purpose. There is no harm in my starting the subject with

you. When she first lost her sight, no means of restoring it were left untried, of course?"

"She is resigned, I supposeand everybody about her is resignedto the idea of her being hopelessly blind

Instead of answering him, I put a question on my side. My heart was beginning to beat rapidlywithout my

"Madame Pratolungo," he replied, "I have got something in my mind which was put into it by a friend of

Nugent Dubourg looked at me attentively; considered with himself for the second time; and answered in

"He is the greatest living authority, and the greatest living operator, in diseases of the eye."

"Gracious God!" I exclaimed, "are you mad enough to suppose that Lucilla's sight can be restored, after a

At the same moment the door opened; and Lucilla (followed by Oscar) entered the room.

THE first impression which poor Miss Finch produced on Nugent Dubourg, was precisely the same as the

Lucilla had already heard from me of her extraordinary resemblance to the chief figure in Raphael's

renowned picture. Nugent's blunt outburst of recognition passed unnoticed by her. She stopped short, in the

middle of the roomstartled, the instant he spoke, by the extraordinary similarity of his tone and accent to

"Oscar," she asked nervously, "are you behind me? or in front of me?" Oscar laughed, and answered

"Here!"speaking behind her. She turned her head towards the place in front of her, from which Nugent had

spoken. "Your voice is wonderfully like Oscar's," she said, addressing him timidly. "Is your face exactly like

his face, too? May I judge for myself of the likeness between you? I can only do it in one wayby my

"She has eyes in the tips of her fingers," he said. "Sit down, Nugent, and let her pass her hand over your

Nugent obeyed him in silence. Now that the first impression of surprise had passed away, I observed that a

Little by little, an unnatural constraint got possession of him. His fluent tongue found nothing to talk about.

His easy movements altered in the strangest way, until they almost became the movements of a slow

awkward man. He was more like his brother than ever, as he sat down in the chair to submit himself to

Lucilla's investigation. She had produced, at first sightas well as I could judgesome impression on him

for which he had not been prepared; causing some mental disturbance in him which he was for the moment

quite unable to control. His eyes looked up at her, spellbound; his color came and went; his breath

"Nothing is the matter," he answered, in the low absent tone of a man whose mind was secretly pursuing its

Oscar said no more. Once, twice, three times, Lucilla's hand passed slowly over Nugent's face. He submitted

to it, silently, gravely, immovablya perfect contrast to the talkative, lively young man of half an hour since.

Lucilla employed a much longer time in examining him than she had occupied in examining me.

While the investigation was proceeding, I had leisure to think again over what had passed between Nugent

and me on the subject of Lucilla's blindness, before she entered the room. My mind had by this time

recovered its balance. I was able to ask myself what this young fellow's daring idea was really worth. Was it

within the range of possibility that a sense so delicate as the sense of sight, lost for oneandtwenty years,

could be restored by any means short of a miracle? It was monstrous to suppose it: the thing could not be. If

there had been the faintest chance of giving my poor dear back the blessing of sight, that chance would have

been tried by competent persons years and years since. I was ashamed of myself for having been violently

excited at the moment by the new thought which Nugent had started in my mind; I was honestly indignant at

his uselessly disturbing me with the vainest of all vain hopes. The one wise thing to do in the future, was to

caution this flighty and inconsequent young man to keep his mad notion about Lucilla to himselfand to

Just as I arrived at that sensible resolution, I was recalled to what was going on in the room, by Lucilla's

"The likeness is wonderful," she said. "Still, I think I can find a difference between them."

(The only difference between them was in the contrast of complexion and in the contrast of mannerboth

She slowly came towards me, with an anxious perplexed face; pondering as she advanced.

When Lucilla left him, Nugent rose from his chair. He abruptlyalmost roughlytook his brother's hand.

"My dear fellow, now I have seen her, I congratulate you more heartily than ever. She is charming; she is

Oscar was radiant with delight. His brother's opinion ranked above all human opinions in his estimation.

Before he could say a word in return, Nugent left him as abruptly as he had approached him; walking away

Lucilla had not heard him. She was still pondering, with the same perplexed face. The likeness between the

twins was apparently weighing on her mindan unsolved problem that vexed and irritated it. Without

anything said by me to lead to resuming the subject, she returned obstinately to the assertion that she had just

"I tell you again I am sensible of a difference between them," she repeated"though you don't seem to

I interpreted this uneasy reiteration as meaning that she was rather trying to convince herself than to convince

me. In her blind condition, it was doubly and trebly embarrassing not to know one brother from the other. I

understood her unwillingness to acknowledge thisI felt (in her position) how it would have irritated me.

She was waitingimpatiently waitingfor me to say something on my side. I am, as you know already, an

"I believe whatever you tell me, my dear," I answered. "You can find out a difference between them, I have

"Try your touch alternately on both their faces," I suggested, "without knowing beforehand which position

they each of them occupy. Make three trialsleaving them to change their places or not, between each trial,

just as they please. If you guess which is which correctly three times following, there will be the proof that

Lucilla shrank from accepting the challenge. She drew back a step, and silently shook her head. Nugent, who

had overheard me, turned round suddenly from the window, and supported my proposal.

"A capital notion!" he burst out. "Let's try it! You don't object, Oscardo you?"

"I object?" cried Oscaramazed at the bare idea of his opposing any assertion of his will to the assertion of

The two brothers approached us, arm in arm. Lucilla, very reluctantly, allowed herself to be persuaded into

trying the experiment. Two chairs, exactly alike, were placed in front of her. At a sign from Nugent, Oscar

silently took the chair on her right. By this arrangement, the hand which she had used in touching Nugent's

face, would be now the hand that she would employ in touching Oscar's face. When they were both seated, I

announced that we were ready. Lucilla placed her hands on their faces, right and left, without the faintest idea

After first touching them with both hands, and both together, she tried them separately next, beginning with

Oscar, and using her right hand only. She left him for Nugent; again using her right handthen came back to

him againthen returned to Nugenthesitateddecidedtapped Nugent lightly on the head.

Nugent burst out laughing. The laugh told her, before any of us could speak, that she had made a mistake at

"Never!" she answered, angrily stepping back from both of them. "One mystification is enough."

Nugent tried next to persuade her to renew the experiment. She checked him sternly at the first word.

"Do you think if I won't do it for Oscar," she said, "that I would do it for you? You laughed at me. What was

there to laugh at? Your brother's features are your features; your brother's hair is your hair; your brother's

height is your height. What is there so very ridiculouswith such a resemblance as thatin a poor blind girl

like me mistaking you one for the other? I wish to preserve a good opinion of you, for Oscar's sake. Don't

turn me into ridicule againor I shall be forced to think that your brother's good heart is not yours also!"

Nugent and Oscar looked at each other, petrified by this sudden outbreak; Nugent, of the two, being the most

I attempted to interfere and put things right. My easy philosophy and my volatile French nature, failed to see

any adequate cause for this vehement exhibition of resentment on Lucilla's part. Something in my tone, as I

suppose, only added to her irritation. I, in my turn, was checked sternly at the first word. "You proposed it,"

she said; "You are the most to blame." I hastened to make my apologies (inwardly remarking that the habit of

raising a storm in a teacup is a growing habit with the rising generation in England). Nugent followed me

with more apologies on his side. Oscar supported us with his superior influence. He took Lucilla's

handkissed itand whispered something in her ear. The kiss and the whisper acted like a charm. She held

out her hand to Nugent, she put her arm round my neck and embraced me, with all her own grace and

sweetness. "Forgive me," she said to us gently. "I wish I could learn to be patient. But, oh, Mr. Nugent, it is

sometimes so hard to be blind!" I can repeat the words; but I can give no idea of the touching simplicity with

which they were spokenof her innocently earnest anxiety to win her pardon. She so affected Nugent that he

tooafter a look at Oscar which said, "May I?"kissed the hand that she offered to him. As his lips touched

her, she started. The bright flush which always indicated the sudden rising of a thought in her mind, flew over

her face. She unconsciously held Nugent's hand in her own, absorbed in the interest of realizing the new

thought. For a moment, she stood, still as a statue, consulting with herself. The moment passed, she dropped

"I want to try again," she repeated. "Not in your way. In a way of my own that has just come into my head."

She turned to Oscar. "Will you humour me in this?" It is needless to set down Oscar's reply. She turned to

"Go with your brother," she said, "to the other end of the room. I know where you are each of you standing,

at this end. Madame Pratolungo will lead me to the place, and will put me just within reach of both your

hands. I want each of you in turn (arrange by a sign between yourselves which is to begin) to take my hand,

and hold it for a moment, and then drop it. I have an idea that I can distinguish between you, in that

The brothers went silently to the other end of the room. I led Lucilla, after them, to the place in which they

stood. At my suggestion, Nugent was the first to take her hand, as she had requested; to hold it for a moment,

The brothers noiselessly changed places. Oscar took her hand, standing exactly where Nugent had stood.

At a sign from Nugent, Oscar took her hand for the second time. She repeated his name. At a sign from me,

the brothers noiselessly placed themselves, one on either side of herOscar on the left; Nugent on the right.

I gave them the signal; and they each took one of her hands at the same moment. This time, she waited a little

longer before she spoke. When she did speak, she was right once more. She turned smiling, towards the left

We were all three equally surprised. I examined Oscar's hand and Nugent's hand alternately. Except the fatal

difference in the color, they were, to all intents and purposes, the same handsthe same size, the same

shape, the same texture of skin; no scar or mark on the hand of one to distinguish it from the hand of the

other. By what mysterious process of divination had she succeeded in discovering which was which?

She stopped any further inquiries by proposing that we should finish the evening with some music, in her

own sittingroom, on the other side of the house. When we were seated together at the pianofortewith the

twinbrothers established as our audience at the other end of the roomshe whispered in my ear:

"How I know which is which when they both of them take my hand. When Oscar takes it, a delicious tingle

runs from his hand into mine, and steals all over me. I can't describe it any better than that."

"That is how I shall always find out the difference between them. If Oscar's brother ever attempts to play

tricks upon my blindness (he is quite capable of ithe laughed at my blindness!), that is how I shall find him

She struck the first chords on the piano, with an obstinate frown on her pretty brow. Our little evening concert

I WAS far from sharing Lucilla's opinion of Nugent Dubourg. His enormous selfconfidence was, to my

mind, too amusing to be in the least offensive. I liked the spirit and gaiety of the young fellow. He came

much nearer than his brother did to my ideal of the dash and resolution which ought to distinguish a man on

the right side of thirty. So far as my experience of them went, Nugent was (in the popular English phrase)

good companyand Oscar was not. My nationality leads me to attach great importance to social qualities.

The higher virtues of a man only show themselves occasionally on compulsion, His social qualities come

familiarly in contact with us every day of our lives. I like to be cheerful: I am all for the social qualities.

There was one little obstacle in those early days, which set itself up between my sympathies and Nugent.

I was thoroughly at a loss to understand the impression which Lucilla had produced on him.

The same constraint which had, in such a marked manner, subdued him at his first interview with her, still

fettered him in the time when they became better acquainted with one another. He was never in high spirits in

her presence. Mr. Finch could talk him down without difficulty, if Mr. Finch's daughter happened to be by.

Even when he was vaporing about himself, and telling us of the wonderful things he meant to do in Painting,

Lucilla's appearance was enough to check him, if she happened to come into the room. On the first day when

he showed me his American sketches (I define them, if you ask my private opinion, as false pretenses of Art,

by a dashing amateur)on that day, he was in full flow; marching up and down the room, smacking his

forehead, and announcing himself quite gravely as "the coming man" in landscape painting.

"My mission, Madame Pratolungo, is to reconcile Humanity and Nature. I propose to show (on an immense

scale) how Nature (in her grandest aspects) can adapt herself to the spiritual wants of mankind. In your joy or

your sorrow, Nature has subtle sympathies with you, if you only know where to look for them. My

picturesno! my poems in colorwill show you. Multiply my works, as they certainly will be multiplied,

by means of printsand what does Art become in my hands? A Priesthood! In what aspect do I present

myself to the public? As a mere landscape painter? No! As Grand Consoler!" In the midst of this rhapsody

(how wonderfully he resembled Oscar in his bursts of excitement while he was talking!)in the full torrent

of his predictions of his own coming greatness, Lucilla quietly entered the room. The "Grand Consoler" shut

up his portfolio; dropped Painting on the spot; asked for Music, and sat down, a model of conventional

propriety, in a corner of the room. I inquired afterwards, why he had checked himself when she came in. "Did

I?" he said. "I don't know why." The thing was really inexplicable. He honestly admired herone had only

to notice him when he was looking at her to see it. He had not the faintest suspicion of her dislike for

himshe carefully concealed it for Oscar's sake. He felt genuine sympathy for her in her afflictionhis mad

idea that her sight might yet be restored, was the natural offspring of a true feeling for her. He was not

unfavorable to his brother's marriageon the contrary, he ruffled the rector's dignity (he was always giving

offense to Mr. Finch) by suggesting that the marriage might be hastened. I heard him say the words

myself:"The church is close by. Why can't you put on your surplice and make Oscar happy tomorrow,

after breakfast?" More even than this, he showed the most vivid interestlike a woman's interest rather than

a man'sin learning how the loveaffair between Oscar and Lucilla had begun. I referred him, so far as

Oscar was concerned, to his brother as the fountainhead of information. He did not decline to consult his

brother. He did not own to me that he felt any difficulty in doing so. He simply dropped Oscar in silence; and

asked about Lucilla. How had it begun on her side? I reminded him of his brother's romantic position at

Dimchurch and told him to judge for himself of the effect it would produce on the excitable imagination of a

young girl. He declined to judge for himself; he persisted in appealing to me. When I told the little lovestory

of the two young people, one event in it appeared to make a very strong impression on him. The effect

produced on Lucilla (when she first heard it) by the sound of his brother's voice, dwelt strangely on his mind.

He failed to understand it; he ridiculed it; he declined to believe it. I was obliged to remind him that Lucilla

was blind, and that love which, in other cases, first finds its way to the heart through the eyes, could only, in

her case, first find its way through the ears. My explanation, thus offered, had its effect: it set him thinking.

"The sound of his voice!" he said to himself, still turning the problem over and over in his mind. "People say

my voice is exactly like Oscar's," he added, suddenly addressing himself to me. "Do you think so too?" I

answered that there could be no doubt of it. He got up from his chair, with a quick little shudder, like a man

who feels a chilland changed the subject. On the next occasion when he and Lucilla metso far from

being more familiar with her, he was more constrained than ever. As it had begun between these two, so it

seemed likely to continue to the end. In my society, he was always at his ease. In Lucilla's society, never!

What was the obvious conclusion which a person with my experience ought to have drawn from all this?

I know well enough what it was, now. On my oath as an honest woman, I failed to see it at the time. We are

not always (suffer me to remind you) consistent with ourselves. The cleverest people commit occasional

lapses into stupidityjust as the stupid people light up with gleams of intelligence at certain times. You may

have shown your usual good sense in conducting your affairs on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday in the

week. But it doesn't at all follow from this, that you may not make a fool of yourself on Thursday. Account

for it as you mayfor a much longer time than it suits my selfesteem to reckon up, I suspected nothing and

discovered nothing. I noted his behavior in Lucilla's presence as odd behavior and unaccountable

He left again, perfectly satisfied with the results of his treatment. The dreadful epileptic malady would torture

the patient and shock the friends about him no more: the marriage might safely be celebrated at the time

The doctor's visitreviving our interest in observing the effect of the medicinealso revived the subject of

Oscar's false position towards Lucilla. Nugent and I held a debate about it between ourselves. I opened the

interview by suggesting that we should unite our forces to persuade his brother into taking the frank and

manly course. Nugent neither said Yes nor No to that proposal at the outset. He, who made up his mind at a

moment's notice about everything else, took time to decide on this one occasion.

"There is something that I want to know first," he said. "I want to understand this curious antipathy of

"He mentioned it in one of his letters to me; and he tried to explain it, when I asked (on my arrival at

Browndown) if Lucilla had discovered the change in his complexion. But he failed entirely to meet my

"This. So far as I can see, she fails to discover intuitively the presence of dark people in a room, or of dark

colors in the ornaments of a room. It is only when she is told that such persons or such things are present that

her prejudice declares itself. In what state of mind does such a strange feeling as this take its rise? It seems

impossible that she can have any conscious associations with colors, pleasant or painfulif it is true that she

was blind at a year old. How do you account for it? Can there be such a thing as a purely instinctive

antipathy; remaining passive until external influences rouse it; and resting on no sort of practical experience

"I think there may be," I replied. "Why, when I was a child just able to walk, did I shrink away from the first

dog I saw who barked at me? I could not have known, at that age, either by experience or teaching, that a

dog's bark is sometimes the prelude to a dog's bite. My terror, on that occasion, was purely instinctive

"You must also remember," I continued, "that she has a positively painful association with dark colors, on

certain occasions. They sometimes produce a disagreeable impression on her nerves, through her sense of

touch. She discovered, in that way, that I had a dark gown on, on the day when I first saw her."

"And yet, she touches my brother's face, and fails to discover any alteration in it."

"I am far from sure that she might not have made the discovery," I said, "if she had touched him for the first

time, since the discoloration of his face. But she examines him now with a settled impression in her mind,

derived from previous experience of what she has felt in touching his skin. Allow for the modifying influence

of that impression on her sense of touchand remember at the same time, that it is the color and not the

texture of the skin that is changedand his escape from discovery becomes, to my mind, intelligible."

He shook his head; he owned he could not dispute my view. But he was not content for all that.

"Have you made any inquiries," he asked, "about the period of her infancy before she was blind? She may be

still feeling, indirectly and unconsciously, the effect of some shock to her nervous system in the time when

"Is there anybody within our reach, who was familiarly associated with her in the first year of her life? It is

Zillah appeared. After first explaining what he wanted with her, Nugent went straight to the inquiry which he

"Was your young lady ever frightened when she was a baby by any dark person, or any dark thing, suddenly

"Never, sir! I took good care to let nothing come near her that could frighten herso long, poor little thing,

Zillah was dismissed. Nugentthus far, unusually grave, and unusually anxiousturned to me with an air

"When you proposed to me to join you in forcing Oscar to speak out," he said, "I was not quite easy in my

"The fear of Oscar's confession producing an estrangement between them which might delay the marriage. I

am against all delays. I am especially anxious that Oscar's marriage should not be put off. When we began

our conversation, I own to you I was of Oscar's opinion that he would do wisely to let marriage make him

sure of his position in her affections, before he risked the disclosure. Nowafter what the nurse has told

"I agree with youthough I am the most opinionated man living. The chances now seem to me to be all in

Oscar's favor, Lucilla's antipathy is not what I feared it wasan antipathy firmly rooted in a constitutional

malady. It is nothing more serious," said Nugent, deciding the question, at once and for ever, with the air of a

man profoundly versed in physiology"it is nothing more serious than a fanciful growth, a morbid accident,

of her blindness. She may live to get over itshe would, I believe, certainly get over it, if she could see. In

two words, after what I have found out this morning, I say as you sayOscar is making a mountain out of a

molehill. He ought to have put himself right with Lucilla long since. I have unbounded influence over him. It

shall back your influence. Oscar shall make a clean breast of it, before the week is out."

We shook hands on that bargain. As I looked at himbright and dashing and resolute; Oscar, as I had always

wished Oscar to beI own to my shame I privately regretted that we had not met Nugent in the twilight, on

Having said to each other all that we had to sayour two lovers being away together at the time, for a walk

on the hillswe separated, as I then supposed, for the rest of the day. Nugent went to the inn, to look at a

stable which he proposed converting into a studio: no room at Browndown being half large enough, for the

first prodigious picture with which the "Grand Consoler" in Art proposed to astonish the world. As for me,

having nothing particular to do, I went out to see if I could meet Oscar and Lucilla on their return from their

Failing to find them, I strolled back by way of Browndown. Nugent was sitting alone on the low wall in front

of the house, smoking a cigar. He rose and came to meet me, with his finger placed mysteriously on his lips.

"You mustn't come in," he said; "you mustn't speak loud enough to be heard." He pointed round the corner of

the house to the little room at the side, already familiar to you in these pages. "Oscar and Lucilla are shut up

"I see you want to know how it has all come about. You shall know.While I was looking at the stable (it

isn't half big enough for a studio for Me!), Oscar's servant brought me a little pencil note, entreating me, in

Oscar's name, to go to him directly at Browndown. I found him waiting out here, dreadfully agitated. He

cautioned me (just as I have cautioned you) not to speak loud. For the same reason too. Lucilla was in the

"They did go out for a walk. But Lucilla complained of fatigue; and Oscar brought her back to Browndown to

rest. Well! I inquired what was the matter. The answer informed me that the secret of Oscar's complexion had

"It happened through one of the boys in the village. Oscar and Lucilla found the little imp howling outside the

house. They asked what was the matter. The imp told them that the servant at Browndown had beaten him.

Lucilla was indignant. She insisted on having the thing inquired into. Oscar left her in the drawingroom

(unluckily, as it turned out, without shutting the door); called the man up into the passage, and asked what he

meant by illusing the boy. The man answered, 'I boxed his ears, sir, as an example to the rest of them.' 'What

did he do?' 'Rapped at the door, sir, with a stick (he is not the first who has done it when you are out); and

asked if Blue Face was at home.' Lucilla heard every word of it, through the open door. Need I tell you what

It was quite needless to relate that part of the story. I remembered too well what had happened on the former

occasion, in the garden. I saw too plainly that Lucilla must have connected the two occurrences in her mind,

and must have had her ready suspicion roused to serious action, as the necessary result.

"I understand," I said. "Of course, she insisted on an explanation. Of course, Oscar compromised himself by a

"What I told you I should do this morning. He had counted confidently on my taking his sideit was pitiable

to see him, poor fellow! Still, for his own sake, I refused to yield. I left him the choice of giving her the true

explanation himself, or of leaving me to do it. There wasn't a moment to lose; she was in no humour to be

trifled with, I can tell you! Oscar behaved very well about ithe always behaves well when I drive him into

a corner! In one word, he was man enough to feel that he was the right person to make a clean breast of

itnot I. I gave the poor old boy a hug to encourage him, pushed him into the room, shut the door on him,

and came out here. He ought to have done it by this time. He has done it! Here he comes!"

Oscar ran out, bareheaded, from the house. There were signs of disturbance in him, as he approached us,

Oscar put his arm round his brother's neck, and laid his head on his brother's shoulder, without answering one

He lifted his head from his brother's shoulder, and stopped me before I could finish the sentence.

Nugent and I gazed at one another, in complete bewilderment. Lucilla had heard it all; Lucilla's curiosity was

satisfied. He had that incredibly happy result to communicate to usand he announced it with a look of

"Let us have an end of this mystification," he said, putting Oscar back from him, sharply, at arm's length. "I

want a plain answer to a plain question. She knows that the boy knocked at the door, and asked if Blue Face

As he asked the question, Lucilla appeared at the door of the house. She moved her blind face inquiringly

first one way, then the other. "Oscar!" she called out, "why have you left me alone? where are you?"

AT that astounding confession, abruptly revealed in those plain words, even resolute Nugent lost all power of

selfcontrol. He burst out with a cry which reached Lucilla's ears. She instantly turned towards us, and

"Ah! there you are!" she exclaimed. "Oscar! Oscar! what is the matter with you today?"

Oscar was incapable of answering her. He had cast one glance of entreaty at his brother as Lucilla came

nearer to us. The mute reproach which had answered him, in Nugent's eyes, had broken down his last

It was necessary that one of us should make his, or her, voice heard. I spoke first.

"Nothing is the matter, my dear," I said, advancing to meet Lucilla. "We were passing the house, and Oscar

The result of the deplorable misunderstanding which had taken place, instantly declared itself. She turned

deadly pale under the horror of feeling that she was in the presence of the man with the blue face.

"Take me near enough to speak to him, but not to touch him," she whispered. "I have heard what he is like.

(Oh, if you saw him, as I see him, in the dark!) I must control myself. I must speak to Oscar's brother, for

She seized my arm and held me close to her. What ought I to have said? What ought I to have done? I neither

knew what to say or what to do. I looked from Lucilla to the twin brothers. There was Oscar the Weak,

overwhelmed by the humiliating position in which he had placed himself towards the woman whom he was

to marry, towards the brother whom he loved! And there was Nugent the Strong, master of himself; with his

arm round his brother, with his head erect, with his hand signing to me to keep silence. He was right. I had

only to look back at Lucilla's face to see that the delicate and perilous work of undeceiving her, was not work

"No!" she answered. "I must accustom myself to speak to him. I will begin today. Take me to himbut

Nugent disengaged himself from Oscarwhose unfitness to help us through our difficulties was too manifest

to be mistakenas he saw us approaching. He pointed to the low wall in front of the house, and motioned to

his brother to wait there out of the way before Lucilla could speak to him again. The wisdom of this

proceeding was not long in asserting itself. Lucilla asked for Oscar the moment after he had left us. Nugent

The sound of Nugent's voice helped her to calculate her distance from him without assistance from me. Still

"Nugent," she said, "I have made Oscar tell mewhat he ought to have told me long since." (She paused

between each sentence; painfully controlling herself, painfully catching her breath.) "He has discovered a

foolish antipathy of mine. I don't know how; I tried to keep it a secret from him. I need not tell you what it

She made a longer pause at those words, holding me closer and closer to her; struggling more and more

painfully against the irresistible nervous loathing that had got possession of her.

He listened, on his side, with the constraint which always fell upon him in her presence more marked than

"I think I understand," she went on, "why Oscar was unwilling to tell me" she stopped, at a loss how to

express herself without running the risk of hurting his feelings"to tell me," she resumed, "what it is in you

which is not like other people. He was afraid my stupid weakness might prejudice me against you. I wish to

say that I won't let it do that. I never was more ashamed of it than now. I, too, have my misfortune. I ought to

Her voice had been growing fainter and fainter as she proceeded. She leaned against me heavily. One glance

at her told me that if I let it go on any longer she would fall into a swoon. "Tell your brother that we have

gone back to the rectory," I said to Nugent. He looked up at Lucilla for the first time.

"You are right," he answered. "Take her home." He repeated the sign by which he had already hinted to me to

The moisture stood thick on her forehead. I passed my handkerchief over her face, and turned her towards the

I put her arm in mine. After advancing with me a few steps, she suddenly stoppedwith a blind

apprehension, as it seemed, of something in front of her. She lifted her little walkingcane, and moved it

slowly backwards and forwards in the empty air, with the action of some one who is clearing away an

encumbrance to a free advancesay the action of a person walking in a thick wood, and pushing aside the

"Clearing the air," she answered. "The air is full of him. I am in a forest of hovering figures, with faces of

"Don't be angry with me. I am coming to my senses again. Nobody knows what folly, what madness it is,

better than I do. I have a will of my own: suffer as I may, I promise to break myself of it this time. I can't, and

won't let Oscar's brother see that he is an object of horror to me." She stopped once more, and gave me a little

propitiatory kiss. "Blame my blindness, dear, don't blame me. If I could only see! Ah, how can I make you

understand me, you who don't live in the dark?" She went on a few paces, silent and thoughtfuland then

"I have heard people say that they have sometimes woke in the middle of the night, on a sudden, without any

noise to disturb them. And they have fancied (without anything particular to justify it) that there was

"Certainly, my love.It has happened to most people to fancy what you say, when their nerves are a little

"Very well. There is my fancy, and there are my nerves. When it happened to you, what did you do?"

"Suppose yourself without candle or matches, in a night without end, left alone with your fancy in the dark.

There you have Me! It would not be easy, would it, to satisfy yourself; if you were in that helpless condition?

You might suffer under itvery unreasonablyand yet very keenly for all that." She lifted her little cane,

with a sad smile. "You might be almost as great a fool as poor Lucilla, and clear the air before you with this!"

The charm of her voice and her manner, added to the touching simplicity, the pathetic truth of those words.

She made me realize, as I had never realized before, what it is to have, at one and the same time, the blessing

of imagination, and the curse of blindness. For a moment, I was absorbed in my admiration and my love for

her. For a moment, I forgot the terrible position in which we were all placed. She unconsciously recalled it to

"Perhaps I was wrong to force the truth out of Oscar?" she said, putting her arm again in mine, and walking

on. "I might have reconciled myself to his brother, if I had never known what his brother was like. And yet I

felt there was something strange in him, without being told, and without knowing what it was. There must

Those words appeared to me to indicate the state of mind which had led to Lucilla's deplorable mistake. I

"You spoke just now of forcing the truth out of Oscar," I said, "What made you suspect that he was

"He was so strangely embarrassed and confused," she answered. "Anybody in my place would have

"I guessed at it," she replied, "from something he said in referring to his brother. You know that I took a

"And you remember that my prejudice against him was confirmed, on the first day when I passed my hand

"Wellwhile Oscar was rambling and contradicting himselfhe said something (a mere trifle) which

suggested to me that the person with the blue face must be his brother. There was the explanation that I had

sought for in vainthe explanation of my persistent dislike to Nugent! That horrid dark face of his must

have produced some influence on me when I first touched it, like the influence which your horrid purple dress

I saw but too plainly. Oscar had been indebted for his escape from discovery entirely to Lucilla's

misinterpretation of his language. And Lucilla's misinterpretation now stood revealed as the natural product

of her anxiety to account for her prejudice against Nugent Dubourg. Although the mischief had been

donestill, for the quieting of my own conscience, I made an attempt to shake her faith in the false

"There is one thing I don't see yet," I said. "I don't understand Oscar's embarrassment in speaking to you. As

"What has become of your memory, my dear?" she asked. "What were you afraid of? You certainly never

said a word to me of this poor man's deformity. You felt yourself, I suppose, (just as Oscar felt himself),

placed between a choice of difficulties. On one side, my dislike of dark colors and dark people warned Oscar

to hold his tongue. On the other, my hatred of having advantage taken of my blindness to keep things secret

from me, pressed him to speak out. Isn't that enoughwith his shy disposition, poor fellowto account for

his being embarrassed? Besides," she added, speaking more seriously, "perhaps he saw in my manner

"Don't you remember his once acknowledging in the garden that he had painted his face in the character of

Bluebeard, to amuse the children? It was not delicate, it was not affectionateit was not like himto show

such insensibility as that to his brother's shocking disfigurement. He ought to have remembered it, he ought

to have respected it. There! we will say no more. We will go indoors and open the piano and try to forget."

Even Oscar's clumsy excuse in the gardeninstead of confirming her suspicionhad lent itself to

strengthen the foregone conclusion rooted in her mind! At that critical momentbefore I had consulted with

the twinbrothers as to what was to be done nextit was impossible to say more. I felt seriously alarmed

when I thought of the future. When she was toldas told she must beof the dreadful delusion into which

she had fallen, what would be the result to Oscar? what would be the effect on herself? I own I shrank from

When we reached the turn in the valley, I looked back at Browndown for the last time. The twinbrothers

were still in the place at which we had left them. Though the faces were indistinguishable, I could still see the

figures plainlyOscar sitting crouched up on the wall; Nugent erect at his side, with one hand laid on his

shoulder. Even at that distance, the types of the two characters were expressed in the attitudes of the two men.

As we entered the new winding of the valley which shut them out from view, I felt (so easy is it to comfort a

woman!) that the commanding position of Nugent had produced its encouraging impression on my mind. "He

WE sat down at the piano, as Lucilla had proposed. She wished me to play first, and to play alone. I was

teaching her, at the time, one of the Sonatas of Mozart; and I now tried to go on with the lesson. Never

before, or since, have I played so badly, as on that day! The divine serenity and completeness by which

Mozart's music is, to my mind, raised above all other music that ever was written, can only be worthily

interpreted by a player whose whole mind is given undividedly to the work. Devoured as I then was by my

own anxieties, I might profane those heavenly melodiesI could not play them. Lucilla accepted my

Calculated by reference to itself, half an hour is no doubt a short space of time. Calculated by reference to

your own suspense, while your own interests are at stake, half an hour is an eternity. Every minute that

passed, leaving Lucilla still undisturbed in her delusion, was a minute that pricked me in the conscience. The

longer we left her in ignorance, the more painful to all of us the hard duty of enlightening her would become.

I began to get restless. Lucilla, on her side, began to complain of fatigue. After the agitation that she had gone

through, the inevitable reaction had come. I recommended her to go to her room and rest. She took my

advice. In the state of my mind at that time, it was an inexpressible relief to me to be left by myself.

After pacing backwards and forwards for some little time in the sittingroom, and trying vainly to see my

way through the difficulties that now beset us, I made up my mind to wait no longer for the news that never

came. The brothers were still at Browndown. To Browndown I determined to return.

I peeped quietly into Lucilla's room. She was asleep. After a word to Zillah, recommending her young

mistress to her care, I slipped out. As I crossed the lawn, I heard the gardengate opened. In a minute more,

the man of all others whom I most wanted to see, presented himself before me, in the person of Nugent

Dubourg. He had borrowed Oscar's key, and had set off alone for the rectory to tell me what had passed

"This is the first stroke of luck that has fallen to me today," he said. "I was wondering how I should contrive

to speak to you privately. And here you areaccessible and alone. Where is Lucilla? Can we depend on

I satisfied him on both those points. He looked sadly pale and worn. Before he opened his lips, I saw that he

too had had his mind disturbed, and his patience tried, since I had left him. There was a summerhouse at the

end of the garden with a view over the breezy solitude of the Downs. Here we established ourselves; and

here, in my headlong way, I opened the interview with the one formidable question:"Who is to tell her of

That answer staggered me at the outset. I looked at Nugent in silent astonishment.

"There is nothing to be surprised at," he said. "Let me put my point of view before you in two words. I have

Women are proverbially bad listenersand I am no better than the rest of them. I interrupted him, before he

"He has no idea how it happened. He ownswhen he found himself face to face with herthat his presence

of mind completely failed him: he didn't himself know what he was saying at the time. He lost his head; and

she lost her patience. Think of his nervous confusion in collision with her nervous irritabilityand the result

explains itself: nothing could come of it but misapprehension and mistake. I turned the thing over in my

mind, after you had left us; and the one course to take that I could see was to accept the position patiently,

and to make the best instead of the worst of it. Having reached this conclusion, I settled the matter (as I settle

most other difficulties)by cutting the Gordian knot. I said to Oscar, 'Would it be a relief to your mind to

leave her present impression undisturbed until you are married?' You know himI needn't tell you what his

answer was. 'Very well,' I said. 'Dry your eyes and compose yourself. I have begun as Blue Face. As Blue

Face I will go on till further notice.' I spare you the description of Oscar's gratitude. I proposed; and he

"Your way out of the difficulty is an unworthy way, and a false way," I answered. "I protest against taking

that cruel advantage of Lucilla's blindness. I refuse to have anything to do with it."

"Do as you please," he said. "You saw the pitiable state she was in, when she forced herself to speak to me.

You saw how her disgust and horror overpowered her at the end. Transfer that disgust and horror to Oscar

(with indignation and contempt added in his case); expose him to the result of rousing those feelings in her,

before he is fortified by a husband's influence over her mind, and a husband's place in her affectionsif you

I gave him his permission to smoke by a gesture. Before I said anything more to this inscrutable gentleman, I

There was no difficulty in accounting for his readiness to sacrifice himself in the interests of Oscar's

tranquillity. He never did things by halveshe liked dashing at difficulties which would have made other

men pause. The same zeal in his brother's service which had saved Oscar's life at the Trial, might well be the

zeal that animated him now. The perplexity that I felt was not roused in me by the course that he had

takenbut by the language in which he justified himself, and, more still, by his behavior to me while he was

speaking. The wellbred brilliant young fellow of my previous experience, had now turned as dogged and as

ungracious as a man could be. He waited to hear what I had to say to him next, with a hard defiance and

desperation of manner entirely uncalled for by the circumstances, and entirely out of harmony with his

character, so far as I had observed it. That there was something lurking under the surface, some inner motive

at work in him which he was concealing from his brother and concealing from me, was as plainly visible as

the sunshine and shade on the view that I was looking at from the summerhouse. But what that something

was, or what that inner motive might be, it baffled my utmost sagacity to guess. Not the faintest idea of the

terrible secret that he was hiding from me, crossed my mind. Innocent of all suspicion of the truth, there I sat

opposite to him, the unconscious witness of that unhappy man's final struggle to be true to the brother whom

he loved, and to master the devouring passion that consumed him. So long as Lucilla falsely believed him to

be disfigured by the drug, so long the commonest consideration for her tranquillity would, in the estimation

of others, excuse and explain his keeping out of her presence. In that separation, lay his last chance of raising

an insurmountable barrier between Lucilla and himself. He had already tried uselessly to place another

obstacle in the wayhe had vainly attempted to hasten the marriage which would have made Lucilla sacred

to him as his brother's wife. That effort having failed, there was but one honorable alternative left to himto

keep out of her society, until she was married to Oscar. He had accepted the position in which Oscar had

placed him, as the one means of reaching the end in view without exciting suspicion of the truthand he had

encountered, as his reward for the sacrifice, my ignorant protest, my stupid opposition, set as obstacles in his

way! There were the motivesthe pure, the noble motiveswhich animated him, as I know them now.

There is the right reading of the dogged language that mystified me, of the defiant manner that offended me;

interpreted by the one light that I have to guide my penthe light of later events!

I gave up attempting to understand him; and answered that plain question, plainly.

"I don't deny that the consequences of undeceiving her may be serious," I said. "But, for all that, I will have

"Pause, and reflect, Madame Pratolungo! The mischief that you may do, as matters stand now, may be

mischief that you can never repair. It's useless to ask you to alter your mind. I only ask you to wait a little.

There is plenty of time before the weddingday. Something may happen which will spare you the necessity

"Lucilla may yet see him, as we see him," Nugent answered. "Lucilla's own eyes may discover the truth."

"I will abandon my notion when the German surgeon tells me it is mad. Not before."

"Not a word. I shall say nothing about it to anybody but you, until the German is safe on the shores of

"Certainly! He would have left New York with me, but for one patient who still required his care. No new

patients will tempt him to stay in America. His extraordinary success has made his fortune. The ambition of

his life is to see England: and he can afford to gratify it. He may be here by the next steamer that reaches

"Suppose Oscar objects? She is resigned to be blind for life. If you disturb that resignation with no useful

result, you may make an unhappy woman of her for the rest of her days. In your brother's place, I should

"My brother is doubly interested in running the risk. I repeat what I have already told you. The physical result

will not be the only result, if her sight can be restored. There will be a new mind put into her as well as a new

sense. Oscar has everything to dread from this morbid fancy of hers as long as she is blind. Only let her eyes

correct her fancyonly let her see him as we see him, and get used to him, as we have got used to him; and

Oscar's future with her is safe. Will you leave things as they are for the present, on the chance that the

I consented to that; being influenced, in spite of myself, by the remarkable coincidence between what Nugent

had just said of Lucilla, and what Lucilla had said to me of herself earlier in the day. It was impossible to

deny that Nugent's theory, wild as it sounded, found its confirmation, so far, in Lucilla's view of her own

case. Having settled the difference between us in this way, for the time being, I shifted our talk next to the

difficult question of Nugent's relations towards Lucilla. "How are you to meet her again," I said, "after the

He spoke far more pleasantly in discussing this side of the subject. His language and his manner both

"If I could have had my own way," he said, "Lucilla would have been relieved, by this time, of all fear of

meeting with me again. She would have heard from you, or from Oscar, that business had obliged me to leave

"He won't hear of my going. I did my best to persuade himI promised to return for the marriage. Quite

useless! 'If you leave me here by myself,' he said, 'to think over the mischief I have done, and the sacrifices I

have forced on youyou will break my heart. You don't know what an encouragement your presence is to

me; you don't know what a blank you will leave in my life if you go!' I am as weak as Oscar is, when Oscar

speaks to me in that way. Against my own convictions, against my own wishes, I yielded. I should have been

He said those closing words in a tone that startled me. It was nothing less than a tone of despair. How little I

understood him then! how well I understand him now! In those melancholy accents, spoke the last of his

honor, the last of his truth. Miserable, innocent Lucia! Miserable, guilty Nugent!

"I must do my best to spare her the nervous suffering which I unwillingly inflicted on her today. The morbid

repulsion that she feels in my presence is not to be controlledI can see that plainly. I shall keep out of her

way; gradually withdrawing myself, so as not to force my absence on her attention. I shall pay fewer and

fewer visits at the rectory, and remain longer and longer at Browndown every day. After they are

married" He suddenly stopped; the words seemed to stick in his throat. He busied himself in relighting

"When Oscar is married, Oscar will not find my presence indispensable to his happiness. I shall leave

"I shall give the true reason. I can find no studio here big enough for meas I have told you. And, even if I

could find a studio, I should be doing no good, if I remained at Dimchurch. My intellect would contract, my

brains would rust, in this remote place. Let Oscar live his quiet married life here. And let me go to the

He sighed, and fixed his eyes absently on the open hilly view from the summerhouse door.

"It's strange to see you depressed," I said. "Your spirits seemed to be quite inexhaustible on that first evening

"We artists are always in extremes," he said. "What do you think I was wishing just before you spoke to me?"

Before I could return a word, on my side, Lucilla's voice reached our ears, calling to me from the garden.

He leapt up; caught the crossbar of wood over the entrance to the summerhouse; and, swinging himself on

to the low gardenwall beyond, disappeared in the field on the other side. I answered Lucilla's call, and

hastened away to find her. We met on the lawn. She looked wild and pale, as if something had frightened her.

"Nothing wrong," she answered"except with Me. The next time I complain of fatigue, don't advise me to

"Why not? I looked in at you, before I came out here. You were fast asleepthe picture of repose."

"Repose? You never were more mistaken in your life. I was in the agony of a horrid dream."

"It must have been after you saw me, then. Let me come and sleep with you tonight. I daren't be by myself,

"I dreamt that I was standing, in my wedding dress, before the altar of a strange church; and that a clergyman

whose voice I had never heard before, was marrying me" She stopped, impatiently waving her hand

(Have I mentioned before, that I am sometimes a great fool? If I have not, I beg to mention it now. I burst out

"What is there to laugh at?" she asked angrily. "I saw his hideous, discolored faceI am never blind in my

dreams! I felt his blue hand put the ring on my finger. Wait! The worst part of it is to come. I married Nugent

Dubourg willinglymarried him without a thought of my engagement to Oscar. Yes! yes! I know it's only a

dream. I can't bear to think of it, for all that. I don't like to be false to Oscar even in a dream. Let us go to him.

I want to hear him tell me that he loves me. Come to Browndown. I'm so nervous, I don't like going by

I have another humiliating confession to makeI tried to get off going to Browndown. (So like those

But I had my reason too. If I disapproved of the resolution at which Nugent had arrived, I viewed far more

unfavorably the selfish weakness on Oscar's part, which had allowed his brother to sacrifice himself. Lucilla's

lover had sunk to something very like a despicable character in my estimation. I felt that I might let him see

"Considering the object that you have in view, my dear," I said to Lucilla, "do you think you want me at

"Haven't I already told you?" she asked impatiently. "I am so nervousso completely upsetthat I don't

feel equal to going out by myself. Have you no sympathy for me? Suppose you had dreamed that you were

"Ah, bah! what of that? I should only have dreamed that I was marrying the most agreeable man of the two."

"My love! if you could see for yourself, you would learn to appreciate Nugent's good qualities, as I do."

"Yes! yes! If Nugent had followed us, instead of Oscar; if, of those two charming voices which are both the

"Tralalala! It happens to have been Oscar. Turn it the other wayand Nugent might have been the man.

"Madame Pratolungo, I am not accustomed to be insulted! I have no more to say to you."

With that dignified reply, and with the loveliest color in her face that you ever saw in your life, my darling

Ah, my rash tongue! Ah, my nasty foreign temper! Why did I let her irritate me? I, the elder of the twowhy

did I not set her an example of selfcontrol? Who can tell? When does a woman know why she does

anything? Did Eve knowwhen Mr. Serpent offered her the applewhy she ate it? not she!

What was to be done now? Two things were to be done. First thing:To cool myself down. Second

Either I took some time to coolor, in the irritation of the moment, Lucilla walked faster than usual. She had

got to Browndown before I could overtake her. On opening the housedoor, I heard them talking. It would

hardly do to disturb themespecially now I was in disgrace. While I was hesitating, and wondering what my

next proceeding had better be, my eye was attracted by a letter lying on the halltable. I looked (one is

always inquisitive in those idle moments when one doesn't know what to do)I looked at the address. The

I WAS still in doubt, whether to enter the room, or to wait outside until she left Browndown to return to the

rectorywhen Lucilla's keen sense of hearing decided the question which I had been unable to settle for

"Lucilla insisted that she heard somebody outside," he said. "Who could have guessed it was you? Why did

He held open the door for me; and I went in. Oscar announced me to Lucilla. "It was Madame Pratolungo you

heard," he said. She took no notice either of him or of me. A heap of flowers from Oscar's garden lay in her

lap. With the help of her clever fingers, she was sorting them to make a nosegay, as quickly and as tastefully

as if she had possessed the sense of sight. In all my experience of that charming face, it had never looked so

hard as it looked now. Nobody would have recognized her likeness to the Madonna of Raphael's picture.

"I hope you will forgive my intrusion, Lucilla, when you know my motive," I said. "I have followed you here

"Oh, don't think of making excuses!" she rejoined, giving threefourths of her attention to the flowers, and

onefourth to me. "It's a pity you took the trouble of coming here. I quite agree with what you said in the

garden. Considering the object I had in view at Browndown, I could not possibly expect you to accompany

I kept my temper. Not that I am a patient woman: not that I possess a meek disposition. Very far from it, I

"I wish to apologize for what I said in the garden," I resumed. "I spoke thoughtlessly, Lucilla. It is impossible

I might as well have spoken to one of the chairs. The whole of her attention became absorbed in the

"Was I offended?" she said, addressing herself to the flowers. "Excessively foolish of me, if I was." She

suddenly became conscious of my existence. "You had a perfect right to express your opinion," she said

She tossed her pretty head; she showed her brightest color; she tapped her nice little foot briskly on the floor.

(Oh, Lucilla! Lucilla!) I still kept my temper. More, by this time (I admit,) for Oscar's sake than for her sake.

He looked so distressed, poor fellowso painfully anxious to interfere, without exactly knowing how.

She petulantly interrupted him, with another toss of the heada little higher than the last.

"I don't attempt to answer Madame Pratolungo! I prefer admitting that Madame Pratolungo may have been

quite right. I dare say I am ready to fall in love with the first man who comes my way. I dare sayif I had

met your brother before I met youI should have fallen in love with him. Quite likely!"

"Quite likelyas you say,"answered poor Oscar, humbly. "I am sure I think it very lucky for me, that you

She threw her lapful of flowers away from her on the table at which she was sitting. She became perfectly

furious with him for taking my side. I permitted myself (the poor child could not see it, remember), the

"You agree with Madame Pratolungo," she said to him viciously. "Madame Pratolungo thinks your brother a

Humble Oscar shook his head in melancholy acknowledgment of this selfevident fact. "There can be no two

She stamped her foot on the carpetand raised quite a little cloud of dust. My lungs are occasionally

delicate. I permitted myself another harmless indulgenceindulgence in a slight cough. She heard the

second indulgenceand suddenly controlled herself, the instant it reached her ears. I am afraid she took my

"Come here, Oscar," she said, with a complete change of tone and manner. "Come and sit down by me."

Oscar looked at me. Having the use of his sight, he was sensible of the absurd side of the demonstration

required of himin the presence of a third person. She, poor soul, strong in her blind insensibility to all

shafts of ridicule shot from the eye, cared nothing for the presence of a third person. She repeated her

commands, in a tone which said sharply, "Embrace meI am not to be trifled with."

Oscar timidly put his arm round her waistwith an appealing look at me. She issued another command

Endurance has its limits: I began to lose my temper. She could not have been more superbly indifferent to my

"Permit me to inform you," I said, "that I have not (as you appear to suppose) left the room."

She took no notice. She went on with her commands, rising irrepressibly from one amatory climax to another.

Unhappy Oscarsacrificed between usblushed. Stop! Don't revel prematurely in the greatest enjoyment a

reader hasnamely, catching a writer out in a mistake. I have not forgotten that his disfigured complexion

would prevent his blush from showing on the surface. I beg to say I saw it under the surfacesaw it in his

"I have only one object in remaining in the room, Miss Finch. I merely wish to know whether you refuse to

He still hesitated. She threw her arm round his neck. My duty to myself was plainmy duty was to go.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dubourg," I saidand turned to the door. She heard me cross the room, and called to

me to stop. I paused. There was a glass on the wall opposite to me. On the authority of the glass, I beg to

mention that I paused in my most becoming manner. Grace tempered with dignity: dignity tempered with

She tightened her hold round his neck, and gave himostentatiously gave himthe kiss which he was

ashamed to give her. I advanced, in contemptuous silence, to the door. My attitude expressed disgust

"This is the man whom I should never have loved if I had happened to meet his brother first. Look!"

She put both arms round his neck; and gave him a shower of kisses all in one. I indignantly withdrew. The

door had been imperfectly closed when I had entered the room: it was ajar. I pulled it openand found

myself face to face with Nugent Dubourg, standing by the table, with his letter from Liverpool in his hand!

He must have certainly heard Lucilla cast my own words back in my teethif he had heard no more.

I stopped short; looking at him in silent surprise. He smiled, and held out the open letter to me. Before we

could speak, we heard the door of the room closed. Oscar had followed me out (shutting the door behind him)

to apologize for Lucilla's behavior to me. He explained what had happened to his brother. Nugent nodded,

and tapped his open letter smartly. "Leave me to manage it. I shall give you something better to do than

quarreling among yourselves. You will hear what it is directly. In the meantime, I have got a message for our

friend at the inn. Gootheridge is on his way here, to speak to me about altering the stable. Run and tell him I

have other business on hand, and I can't keep my appointment today. Stop! Give him this at the same time,

He took one of his visiting cards out of the case, wrote a few lines on it in pencil, and handed it to his brother.

Oscar (always ready to go on errands for Nugent) hurried out to meet the landlord. Nugent turned to me.

"At once. I have put off my own business (as you heard) in favor of this. My friend will be in London

tomorrow. I mean to get my authority to consult him today, and to start tomorrow for town. Prepare

yourself to meet one of the strangest characters you ever set eyes on! You saw me write on my card. It was a

message to Mr. Finch, asking him to join us immediately (on important family business) at Browndown. As

Lucilla's father, he has a voice in the matter. When Oscar comes back, and when the rector joins us, our

He spoke with his customary spirit; he moved with his customary brisknesshe had become quite himself

"I am stagnating in this place," he went on, seeing that I noticed the change in him. "It puts me in spirits

again, having something to do. I am not like OscarI must have action to stir my bloodaction to keep me

from fretting over my anxieties. How do you think I found the witness to my brother's innocence at the Trial?

In that way. I said to myself, 'I shall go mad if I don't do something.' I did somethingand saved Oscar. I am

going to do something again. Mark my words! Now I am stirring in it, Lucilla will recover her sight."

"Consideration?" he repeated. "I hate the word. I always decide on the instant. If I am wrong in my view of

Lucilla's case, consideration is of no earthly use. If I am right, every day's delay is a day of sight lost to the

blind. I'll wait for Oscar and Mr. Finch; and then I'll open the business. Why are we talking in the hall? Come

He led the way to the sittingroom. I had a new interest, now, in going back. Still, Lucilla's behavior hung on

my mind. Suppose she treated me with renewed coldness and keener contempt? I remained standing at the

"Nonsense!" he said. "I'll set things right. It's beneath a woman like you to take notice of what a girl says in a

I doubt if I should have yielded to please any other living man. But, there is no denying it, some people have

a magnetic attracting power over others. Nugent had that power over me. Against my own willfor I was

Lucilla was still sitting in the place which she had occupied when I withdrew. On hearing the door open, and

a man's footsteps entering, she of course assumed that the man was Oscar. She had penetrated his object in

"Oh?" she said. "You have come back at last? I thought you had offered yourself as Madame Pratolungo's

escort to the rectory." She stopped, with a sudden frown. Her quick ears had detected my return into the

room. "Oscar!" she exclaimed, "what does this mean? Madame Pratolungo and I have nothing more to say to

each other. What has she come back for? Why don't you answer? This is infamous! I shall leave the room!"

The utterance of that final threat was followed so rapidly by its execution that, before Nugent (standing

between her and the door) could get out of her way, she came in violent contact with him. She instantly

caught him by the arm, and shook him angrily. "What does your silence mean? Is it at Madame Pratolungo's

I had just opened my lips to make one more attempt at reconciliation, by saying some pacifying words to

herwhen she planted that last sting in me. French flesh and blood (whatever English flesh and blood might

At the same moment, Nugent's eyes brightened as if a new idea had struck him. He gave me one significant

lookand answered her in his brother's character. Whether he was possessed at the moment by some demon

of mischief; or whether he had the idea of trying to make Oscar's peace for him, before Oscar returnedwas

more than I could say at the time. I ought to have stopped itI know. But my temper was in a flame. I was

as spiteful as a cat and as fierce as a bear. I said to myself (in your English idiom), She wants taking down a

peg; quite right, Mr. Nugent; do it. Shocking! shameful! no words are bad enough for me: give it me well.

Ah, Heaven! what is a human being in a rage? On my sacred word of honor, nothing but a human beast! The

next time it happens to You, look at yourself in the glass; and you will find your soul gone out of you at your

He had only to model his articulation on his brother's slower manner of speaking as distinguished from his

own, to be his brother himself. In saying those few first words, he did it so dexterously that I could have

She started back a step. Submissive Oscar was taking a peremptory tone with her for the first time in his life.

"Madame Pratolungo has made her excuses to you. You ought to receive them; you ought to reciprocate

them. It is distressing to see you and hear you. You are behaving ungratefully to your best friend."

She raised her face, she raised her hands, in blank amazement: she looked as if she distrusted her own ears.

She turned like lightning towards the place from which he had spoken. She detected the deception which

Nugent had practiced on her, with a cry of indignation that rang through the room.

"A trick!" she cried. "A mean, vile, cowardly trick played upon my blindness! Oscar! your brother has been

imitating you; your brother has been speaking to me in your voice. And that woman who calls herself my

friendthat woman stood by and heard him, and never told me. She encouraged it: she enjoyed it. The

wretches! take me away from them. They are capable of any deceit. She always hated you, dear, from the

firstshe took up with your brother the moment he came here. When you marry me, it mustn't be at

Dimchurch; it must be in some place they don't know of. There is a conspiracy between them against you and

against me. Beware of them! beware of them! She said I should have fallen in love with your brother, if I had

met him first. There is a deeper meaning in that, my love, than you can see. It means that they will part us if

they can. Ha! I hear somebody moving! Has he changed places with you? Is it you whom I am speaking to

now? Oh, my blindness! my blindness! Oh, God, of all your creatures, the most helpless, the most miserable,

I never heard anything in all my life so pitiable and so dreadful as the frantic suspicion and misery which tore

their way out from her, in those words. She cut me to the heart. I had spoken rashlyI had behaved

badlybut had I deserved this? No! no! no! I had not deserved it. I threw myself into a chair, and burst out

crying. My tears scalded me; my sobs choked me. If I had had poison in my hand, I would have drunk itI

The only voice that answered her was Nugent's. Reckless what the consequences might bespeaking, in his

own proper person, from the opposite end of the roomhe asked the allimportant question which no human

Oscar had beenas I supposedholding her in his arms, silently soothing her, when his brother spoke. At

the moment when I saw her, she had just detached herself from him. She advanced a step, towards the part of

the room in which Nugent stoodand stopped, with her face turned towards him. Every faculty in her

seemed to be suspended by the silent passage into her mind of the new idea that he had called up. Through

childhood, girlhood, womanhoodnever once, waking or dreaming, had the prospect of restoration to sight

presented itself within her range of contemplation, until now. Not a trace was left in her countenance of the

indignation which Nugent had roused in her, hardly more than a moment since. Not a sign appeared

indicating a return of the nervous suffering which the sense of his presence had inflicted on her, earlier in the

day. The one emotion in possession of her was astonishmentastonishment that had struck her dumb;

I observed Oscar, next. His eyes were fixed on Lucillaabsorbed in watching her. He spoke to Nugent,

without looking at him; animated, as it seemed, by a vague fear for Lucilla, which was slowly developing

Nugent approached his brother, circuitously, so as to place Oscar between Lucilla and himself.

Oscar looked at him in surprise. "Offended with you," he answered, "after what you have forgiven, and what

While those words were passing between the brothers, my attention remained fixed on Lucilla. Her head had

turned slowly towards the new position which Nugent occupied when he spoke to Oscar. With this exception,

no other movement had escaped her. No sense of what the two men were saying to each other seemed to have

entered her mind. To all appearance she had heard nothing, since Nugent had started the first doubt in her

"You have had reason to be offended with me, Lucilla. Let me, if I can, give you reason to be grateful to me,

before I have done. When I was in New York, I became acquainted with a German surgeon, who had made a

reputation and a fortune in America by his skill in treating diseases of the eye. He had been especially

successful in curing cases of blindness given up as hopeless by other surgeons. I mentioned your case to him.

He could say nothing positively (as a matter of course) without examining you. All he could do was to place

his services at my disposal, when he came to England. I for one, Lucilla, decline to consider you blind for

life, until this skillful man sees no more hope for you than the English surgeons have seen. If there is the

faintest chance still left of restoring your sight, his is, I firmly believe, the one hand that can do it. He is now

She slowly lifted her hands to her head, and held it as if she was holding her reason in its place. Her color

changed from pale to redfrom red to pale once more. She drew a long, deep, heavy breathand dropped

her hands again, recovering from the shock. The change that followed, held us all three breathless. It was

beautiful to see her. It was awful to see her. A mute ecstasy of hope transfigured her face; a heavenly smile

played serenely on her lips. She was among us, and yet apart from us. In the still light of evening, shining in

on her from the window, she stood absorbed in her own rapturethe silent creature of another sphere! There

was a moment when she overcame me with admiration, and another moment when she overcame me with

I advanced a few steps. I tried to consider with myself what I should say. It was useless. I could neither think

She came back to the worldshe came back to uswith a little start, and a faint flush of color in her cheeks.

In a moment, my arms were round her. Her head sank on my bosom. We were reconciled without a word. We

"Have I been fainting? have I been sleeping?" she said to me in low, bewildered tones. "Am I just awake? Is

"Did you speak to me just now? Was it you who put the doubt into my mind, whether I am really doomed to

be blind for life? Surely, I have not fancied it? Surely, you said the man was coming, and the time coming?"

I stepped forward to lead her to him. Nugent touched me, and pointed to Oscar, as I took her hand. He was

standing before the glasswith an expression of despair which I see again while I write these lineshe was

standing close to the glass; looking in silence at the hideous reflection of his face. In sheer pity, I hesitated to

take her to him. She stepped forward, and, stretching out her hand, touched his shoulder. The reflection of

her charming face appeared behind his face in the glass. She raised herself on tiptoe, with both hands on him,

With a cry of joy, she drew his face to her, and kissed him on the forehead. His head fell on his breast when

she released it: he covered his face with his hands, and stifled, for the moment, all outward expression of the

pang that wrung him. I drew her rapidly away, before her quick sensibilities had time to warn her that

something was wrong. Even as it was, she resisted me. Even as it was, she asked suspiciously, "Why do you

She repeated the question. For once Fortune favored us. A timely knock at the door stopped her just as she

was trying to release herself from me. "Somebody coming in," I said. The servant entered, as I spoke, with a

OH, the welcome interruption! After the agitation that we had suffered, we all stood equally in need of some

such relief as this. It was absolutely a luxury to fall back again into the commonplace daily routine of life. I

asked to whom the letter was addressed? Nugent answered, "The letter is addressed to me; and the writer is

"I sent a message to your father, asking him to join us here," he said. "Mr. Finch writes back to say that his

duties keep him at home, and to suggest that the rectory is the fitter place for the discussion of family matters.

Have you any objection to return to the house? And do you mind going on first with Madame Pratolungo?"

"Your father's note suggests to me," replied Nugent, "that he is a little hurt at the short notice I gave him of

our discussion here. I thoughtif you and Madame Pratolungo went on firstthat you might make our

peace with the rector, and assure him that we meant no disrespect, before Oscar and I appeared. Don't you

Having contrived in this dexterous way to separate Oscar and Lucilla, and to gain time for composing and

fortifying his brother before they met again, Nugent opened the door for us to go out. Lucilla and I left the

twins together, in the modest little room which had witnessed a scene alike memorable to all of us for its

interest at the time, and for the results which were to come of it in the future.

Our adjourned debateexcepting one small suggestion emanating from myselfwas a debate which led to

nothing. It may be truly described as resolving itself into the delivery of an Oration by Mr. Finch. Subject, the

On this occasion (having matters of more importance on hand) I take the liberty of cutting the reverend

gentleman's speech by the pattern of the reverend gentleman's stature. Short in figure, the rector shall be here,

Reverend Finch rose, and saidhe objected to everything. To receiving a message on a card instead of a

proper note. To being expected to present himself at Browndown at a moment's notice. To being the last

person informed (instead of the first) of Mr. Nugent Dubourg's exaggerated and absurd view of the case of

his afflicted child. To the German surgeon, as being certainly a foreigner and a stranger, and possibly a

quack. To the slur implied on British Surgery by bringing the foreigner to Dimchurch. To the expense

involved in the same proceeding. Finally to the whole scope and object of Mr. Nugent Dubourg's proposal,

which had for its origin rebellion against the decrees of an allwise Providence, and for its result the

disturbance of his daughter's mind"under My influence, sir, a mind in a state of Christian resignation:

under Your influence, a mind in a state of infidel revolt." With those concluding remarks, the reverend

A remarkable result followed, which might be profitably permitted to take place in some other Parliaments.

Mr. Nugent Dubourg roseno! satand said, he declined to take any part in the proceedings. He was quite

ready to wait, until the end justified the means which he proposed to employ. For the rest, his conscience was

Mr. Oscar Dubourg, sitting hidden from notice behind his brother, followed his brother's example. The

decision in the matter under discussion rested with Miss Finch alone. He had no opinion of his own to offer

Miss Finch herself, appealed to next:Had but one reply to give. With all possible respect for her father, she

ventured to think that neither he nor any one, possessing the sense of vision, could quite enter into her

feelings as the circumstances then were. If there really was any chance of her recovering her sight, the least

she could do would be to give that chance a fair trial. She entreated Mr. Nugent Dubourg not to lose one

Mrs. Finch, called upon next. Spoke after some little delay, caused by the loss of her pockethandkerchief.

Would not presume to differ in opinion with her husband, whom she had never yet known to be otherwise

than perfectly right about everything. But, if the German surgeon did come, and if Mr. Finch saw no

objection to it, she would much like to consult him (gratis, if possible) on the subject of "baby's eyes." Mrs.

Finch was proceeding to explain that there was happily nothing the matter, that she could see, with the

infant's eyes at that particular moment, and that she merely wished to take a skilled medical opinion, in the

event of something happening on some future occasionwhen she was called to order by Mr. Finch. The

reverend gentleman, at the same time, appealed to Madame Pratolungo to close the debate by giving frank

That the question of consulting the German surgeon appeared (after what had fallen from Miss Finch) to be a

question which had passed beyond the range of any expression of feeling on the part of other persons. That

she proposed, accordingly, to look, beyond the consultation, at the results which might follow it. That,

contemplating these possible results, she held very strong views of her own, and would proceed to give frank

expression to them as follows. That in her opinion, the proposed investigation of the chances which might

exist of restoring Miss Finch's sight, involved consequences far too serious to be trusted to the decision of

any one man, no matter how skillful or how famous he might be. That, in pursuance of this view, she begged

to suggest (1) the association of an eminent English oculist with the eminent German oculist; (2) an

examination of Miss Finch's case by both the professional gentlemen, consulting on it together; and (3) a full

statement of the opinions at which they might respectively arrive, to be laid before the meeting now

assembled, and to become the subject of a renewed discussion before any decisive measures were taken.

Lastly, that this proposal be now submitted, in the form of a resolution, and forthwith (if necessary) put to the

Resolution carried by a majority of two. Debate adjourned to a day to be hereafter decided on.

At luncheon, the same day, a telegram arrived, reporting his proceedings in the following terms:

"I have seen my friend. He is at our service. He is also quite willing to consult with any English oculist whom

we may choose. I am just off to find the man. Expect a second telegram later in the day."

"Everything is settled. The German oculist and the English oculist leave London with me, by the

After reading this telegram to Lucilla, I sent it to Oscar at Browndown. Judge for yourself how he slept, and

SEVERAL circumstances deserving to be mentioned here, took place in the early part of the day on which we

expected the visit of the two oculists. I have all the will to relate thembut the capacity to do it completely

When I look back at that eventful morning, I recall a scene of confusion and suspense, the bare recollection of

which seems to upset my mind again, even at this distance of time. Things and persons all blend distractedly

one with another. I see the charming figure of my blind Lucilla, robed in rosecolor and white, flitting hither

and thither, in the house and out of the houseat one time mad with impatience for the arrival of the

surgeons; at another, shuddering with apprehension of the coming ordeal, and the coming disappointment

which might follow. A moment moreand, just as my mind has seized it, the fair figure melts and merges

into the miserable apparition of Oscar; hovering and hesitating between Browndown and the rectory;

painfully conscious of the new complications introduced into his position towards Lucilla by the new state of

things; and yet not man enough, even yet, to seize the opportunity, and set himself right. Another moment

passes, and a new figurea little strutting consequential figure forces its way into the foreground, before I

am ready for it. I hear a big voice booming in my ear, with big language to correspond. "No, Madame

Pratolungo, nothing will induce me to sanction by my presence this insane medical consultation, this

extravagant and profane attempt to reverse the decrees of an allwise Providence by purely human means.

My foot is downI use the language of the people, observe, to impress it the more strongly on your

mindMy FOOT is down!" Another moment yet, and Finch and Finch's Foot disappear over my mental

horizon just as my eye has caught them. Damp Mrs. Finch, and the baby whose everlasting programme is

suction and sleep, take the vacant place. Mrs. Finch pledges me with watery earnestness to secrecy; and then

confides her intention of escaping her husband's supervision if she can, and bringing British surgery and

German surgery to bear both together (gratis) on baby's eyes. Conceive these persons all twisting and turning

in the convolutions of my brains, as if those brains were a labyrinth; with the sayings and doings of one,

confusing themselves with the sayings and doings of the otherwith a thin stream of my own private

anxieties (comprehending luncheon on a sidetable for the doctors) trickling at intervals through it alland

you will not wonder if I take a jump, like a sheep, over some six hours of precious time, and present my

solitary self to your eye, posted alone in the sittingroom to receive the council of surgeons on its arrival at

First, a Mayonnaise of chicken of my own making on the luncheontable, which, as a work of Art, was

simply adorableI say no more. Secondly, my green silk dress, trimmed with my mother's famous

laceanother work of Art, equally adorable with the first. Whether I looked at the luncheontable, or

whether I looked in the glass, I could feel that I worthily asserted my nation; I could say to myself, Even in

this remote corner of the earth, the pilgrim of civilization searching for the elegant luxuries of life, looks and

The clock chimed the quarter past three. Lucilla, wearying, for the hundredth time of waiting in her own

room, put her head in at the door, and still repeated the neverchanging question"No signs of them yet?"

She disappeared again, with a weary sigh. Five minutes more passed; and old Zillah peeped into the room

I shook out the skirts of my green silk, I cast a last inspiriting glance at the Mayonnaise. Nugent's cheerful

voice reached me from the garden, conducting the strangers. "This way, gentlemenfollow me." A pause.

The German gave a little start when my name was mentioned. The Englishman remained perfectly unaffected

by it. Herr Grosse had heard of my glorious Pratolungo. Mr. Sebright was barbarously ignorant of his

existence. I shall describe Herr Grosse first, and shall take the greatest pains with him.

A squat, broad, sturdy body, waddling on a pair of short bandy legs; slovenly, shabby, unbrushed clothes; a

big square biliousyellow face, surmounted by a mop of thick irongrey hair; dark beetlebrows; a pair of

staring, fierce, black, goggle eyes, with huge circular spectacles standing up like fortifications in front of

them; a shaggy beard and mustache of mixed black, white, and grey; a prodigious cameo ring on the

forefinger of one hairy hand; the other hand always in and out of a deep silver snuffbox like a small

teacaddy; a rough rasping voice; a diabolically humourous smile; a curtly confident way of speaking;

resolution, independence, power, expressed all over him from head to footthere is the portrait of the man

who held in his hands (if Nugent was to be trusted) the restoration of Lucilla's sight!

The English oculist was as unlike his German colleague as it is possible for one human being to be to

Mr. Sebright was slim and spare, and scrupulously (painfully) clean and neat. His smooth light hair was

carefully parted; his wellshaved face exhibited two little crisp morsels of whisker about two inches long,

and no hair more. His decent black clothes were perfectly made; he wore no ornaments, not even a

watchchain; he moved deliberately, he spoke gravely and quietly; disciplined attention looked coldly at you

out of his light grey eyes; and said, Here I am if you want me, in every movement of his thin finelycut lips.

A thoroughly capable man, beyond all doubtbut defend me from accidentally sitting next to him at dinner,

I received these distinguished persons with my best grace. Herr Grosse complimented me in return on my

illustrious name, and shook hands. Mr. Sebright said it was a beautiful day, and bowed. The German, the

moment he was at liberty to look about him, looked at the luncheontable. The Englishman looked out of

Herr Grosse nodded his shock head in high approval. His wild eyes glared greedily at the Mayonnaise

through his prodigious spectacles. "Aha! I like that," said the illustrious surgeon, pointing at the dish with his

ringed forefinger. "You know how to make himyou make him with creams. Is he chickens or lobsters? I

like lobsters best, but chickens is goot too. The garnish is lofelyanchovy, olive, beetroots; brown, green,

red, on a fat white sauce! This I call a heavenly dish. He is nicecool in two different ways; nicecool, to the

eye, nicecool to the taste! Soh! we will break into his inside. Madame Pratolungo, you shall begin. Here

In this extraordinary Englishturning words in the singular into words in the plural, and banishing from the

British vocabulary the copulative conjunction "and"Herr Grosse announced his readiness to sit down to

lunch. He was politely recalled from the Mayonnaise to the patient by his discreet English colleague.

"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Sebright. Would it not be advisable to see the young lady, before we do

Herr Grossewith a fork in one hand and a spoon in the other, and a napkin tied round his neckstared

piteously; shook his shock head; and turned his back on the Mayonnaise, with a heavy heart at parting.

"Goot. We shall do our works first: then eat our lunches afterwards. Where is the patients?

Comebeginbegin!" He removed the napkin, blew a sigh (there is no other way of expressing it)and

plunged his finger and thumb into his teacaddy snuffbox. "Where is the patients?" he repeated irritably.

"She is waiting in the next room," I said. "I will bring her in directly. You will make allowances for her,

gentlemen, I am sure, if you find her a little nervous?" I added, looking at both the oculists. Silent Mr.

Sebright bowed. Herr Grosse grinned diabolically, and said, "Make your mind easy, my goot creature. I am

"After altering his mind a dozen times at least," I replied, "he has decided on not being present at the

I had barely said the words before the door opened, and Oscar entered the room. He had altered his mind for

Herr Grosse burst out with an exclamation in his own language, at the sight of Oscar's face. "Ach, Gott!" he

exclaimed, "he has been taking Nitrates of Silvers. His complexions is spoilt. Poor boys! poor boys!" He

shook his shaggy headturnedand spat compassionately into a corner of the room. Oscar looked

offended; Mr. Sebright looked disgusted; Nugent thoroughly enjoyed it. I left the room and closed the door

I had not taken two steps in the corridor when I heard the door opened again. Looking back directly, I found

myself, to my amazement, face to face with Herr Grossestaring ferociously at me through his spectacles,

"Hosh!" said the famous oculist in a heavy whisper. "Say nothing to nobody. I am come to help you."

Herr Grosse nodded vehementlyso vehemently that his prodigious spectacles hopped up and down on his

"What did you tell me just now?" he asked. "You told me the patient was nervous. Goot! I am come to go

with you to the patients, and help you to fetch her. Soh! soh! I am not such a brutes as I look.

I hesitated for a moment about introducing this remarkable ambassador into Lucilla's bedroom. One look at

him decided me. After all, he was a doctor,and such an ugly one! I took his arm.

We went together into Lucilla's room. She started up from the sofa on which she was reclining when she

"It is me, my dears," said Herr Grosse. "Ach, Gott! what a pretty girls! Here is jost the complexions I

likenicefair! nicefair! I am come to see what I can do, my pretty Miss, for this eyes of yours. If I can let

the light in on youhey! you will lofe me, won't you? You will kees even an ugly Germans like me. Soh!

Come under my arm. We will go back into the odder rooms. There is anodder one waiting to let the light in

tooMr. Sebrights. Two surgeonoptic to one pretty MissEnglish surgeonoptic; German

surgeonoptichey! between us we shall cure this nice girls. Madame Pratolungo, here is my odder arms at

your service. Hey! what? You look at my coatsleeve. He is shabbygreasyI am ashamed of him. No

matter. You have got Mr. Sebrights to look at in the odder rooms. He is spickspan, beautifulnew. Come!

Nugent, waiting in the corridor, threw the door open for us. "Isn't he delightful?" Nugent whispered behind

me, pointing to his friend. Escorted by Herr Grosse, we made a magnificent entry into the room. Our German

doctor had done Lucilla good already. The examination was relieved of all its embarrassments and its terrors

at the outset. Herr Grosse had made her laughHerr Grosse had set her completely at her ease.

Mr. Sebright and Oscar were talking together in a perfectly friendly way when we returned to the

sittingroom. The reserved Englishman appeared to have his attraction for the shy Oscar. Even Mr. Sebright

was struck by Lucilla; his cold face lit up with interest when he was presented to her. He placed a chair for

her in front of the window. There was a warmth in his tone which I had not heard yet, when he begged her to

be seated in that place. She took the chair. Mr. Sebright thereupon drew back, and bowed to Herr Grosse,

Herr Grosse met this advance with a counterwave of the hand, and a vehement shake of his shockhead,

"Pardon me," entreated Mr. Sebright. "As my senior, as a visitor to England, as a master in our art."

Herr Grosse responded by regaling himself with three pinches of snuff in rapid successiona pinch as

senior, a pinch as visitor to England, a pinch as master in the art. An awful pause followed. Neither of the

"Miss Finch is waiting," he said. "Come, Grosse, you were first presented to her. You examine her first."

Herr Grosse took Nugent's ear between his finger and thumb, and gave it a goodhumoured pinch. "You

clever boys!" he said. "You have the right word always at the tips of your tongue." He waddled to Lucilla's

chair; and stopped short with a scandalized look. Oscar was bending over her, and whispering to her with her

hand in his. "Hey! what?" cried Herr Grosse. "Is this a third surgeonoptic? What, sir! you treat young Miss's

eyes by taking hold of young Miss's hand? You are a Quack. Get out!" Oscar withdrewnot very graciously.

Herr Grosse took a chair in front of Lucilla, and removed his spectacles. As a shortsighted man, he had

necessarily excellent eyes for all objects which were sufficiently near to him. He bent forward, with his face

close to Lucilla's, and parted her eyelids alternately with his finger and thumb; peering attentively, first into

It was a moment of breathless interest. Who could say what an influence on her future life might be exercised

by this quaint kindly uncouth little foreign man? How anxiously we watched those shaggy eyebrows, those

piercing goggle eyes! And, oh, heavens, how disappointed we were at the first result! Lucilla suddenly gave a

little irrepressible shudder of disgust. Herr Grosse drew back from her, and glared at her benignantly with his

"Aha!" he said. "I see what it is. I snuff, I smoke, I reek of tobaccos. The pretty Miss smells me. She says in

Lucilla burst into a fit of laughter. Herr Grosse, unaffectedly amused on his side, grinned with delight, and

snatched her handkerchief out of her apronpocket. "Gif me scents," said this excellent German. "I shall stop

up her nose with her handkerchiefs. So she will not smell my tobaccostinksall will be niceright

againwe shall go on." I gave him some lavenderwater from a scentbottle on the table. He gravely

drenched the handkerchief with it, and popped it suddenly on Lucilla's nose. "Hold him there, Miss. You

He took a magnifying glass out of his waistcoat pocket, and waited till Lucilla had fairly exhausted herself

with laughing. Then the examinationso cruelly grotesque in itself, so terribly serious in the issues which it

involvedresumed its course: Herr Grosse glaring at his patient through his magnifying glass; Lucilla

Herr Grosse put back his magnifying glass with a grunt which sounded like a grunt of relief, and snatched the

"Ach! what a nasty smell!" he said, holding the handkerchief to his nose with a grimace of disgust. "Tobaccos

is much better than this." He solaced his nostrils, offended by the lavenderwater, with a huge pinch of snuff.

"Now I am going to talk," he went on. "See! I keep my distance. You don't want your handkerchiefsyou

"Am I blind for life?" said Lucilla. "Pray, pray tell me, sir! Am I blind for life?"

She tried to go down on her knees before him. He held her back firmly and kindly in her chair.

"Now! now! now! you be nicegoot, and tell me this first. When you are out in the garden, taking your little

lazy lady's walks on a shinysunny day, is it all the same to your eyes as if you were lying in your bed in the

"Hah! You know it is nicelight at one time? you know it is horriddark at the odder?"

"Then why you ask me if you are blind for life? If you can see as much as that, you are not properly blind at

She clasped her hands, with a low cry of delight. "Oh, where is Oscar?" she said softly. "Where is Oscar?" I

looked round for him. He was gone. While his brother and I had been hanging spellbound over the surgeon's

questions and the patient's answers, he must have stolen silently out of the room.

Herr Grosse rose, and vacated the chair in favor of Mr. Sebright. In the ecstasy of the new hope now

confirmed in her, Lucilla seemed to be unconscious of the presence of the English oculist, when he took his

colleague's place. His grave face looked more serious than ever, as he too produced a magnifying glass from

his pocket, and, gently parting the patient's eyelids, entered on the examination of her blindness, in his turn.

The investigation by Mr. Sebright lasted a much longer time than the investigation by Herr Grosse. He

pursued it in perfect silence. When he had done he rose without a word, and left Lucilla as he had found her,

rapt in the trance of her own happinessthinking, thinking, thinking of the time when she should open her

"I say nothing yet." With that implied reproof to Nugent, he turned to me. "I understand that Miss Finch was

"Is there any person in the houseparent, or relative, or servantwho can speak to the symptoms noticed

I rang the bell for Zillah. "Her mother is dead," I said. "And there are reasons which prevent her father from

being present today. Her old nurse will be able to give you all the information you want."

"I knew by seeing her take notice, sir. She used to stare at the candles, and clutch at things that were held

"In the same way, sir. There came a time, poor little thing, when her eyes looked glazedlike, and try her as

"Yes, sirbit by bit, as you may say. Slowly worse and worse one week after another. She was a little better

Mr. Sebright turned to Herr Grosse, sitting at the luncheontable resignedly contemplating the Mayonnaise.

Herr Grosse shrugged his shoulders, and pointed backwards with his thumb at the place in which Lucilla was

"Her case is as plain to me as twos and twos make fours. Ach Gott! what do I want with the nurse?" He

turned again longingly towards the Mayonnaise. "My fine appetites is going! When shall we lonch?"

Mr. Sebright dismissed Zillah with a frigid inclination of the head. His discouraging manner made me begin

to feel a little uneasy. I ventured to ask if he had arrived at a conclusion yet. "Permit me to consult with my

colleague before I answer you," said the impenetrable man. I roused Lucilla. She again inquired for Oscar. I

said I supposed we should find him in the gardenand so took her out. Nugent followed us. I heard Herr

Grosse whisper to him piteously, as we passed the luncheontable, "For the lofe of Heaven, come back soon,

and let us lonch!" We left the illassorted pair to their consultation in the sittingroom.

WE had certainly not been more than ten minutes in the garden, when we were startled by an extraordinary

outbreak of shouting in broken English, proceeding from the window of the sittingroom. "Hihihoi!

hoihi! hoihi!" We looked up, and discovered Herr Grosse, frantically waving a huge red silk handkerchief

at the window. "Lonch! lonch!" cried the German surgeon. "The consultations is done. Come beginbegin."

Obedient to this peremptory summons, Lucilla, Nugent, and I returned to the sittingroom. We had, as I had

foreseen, found Oscar wandering alone in the garden. He had entreated me, by a sign, not to reveal our

discovery of him to Lucilla, and had hurried away to hide himself in one of the sidewalks. His agitation was

pitiable to see. He was totally unfit to be trusted in Lucilla's presence at that anxious moment.

When we had left the oculists together, I had sent Zillah with a little written message to Reverend Finch;

entreating him (if it was only for form's sake) to reconsider his resolution, and be present on the allimportant

occasion to his daughter of the delivery of the medical opinions on her case. At the bottom of the stairs (on

our return), my answer was handed to me on a slip of sermonpaper. "Mr. Finch declined to submit a

question of principle to any considerations dictated by mere expediency. He desired seriously to remind

Madame Pratolungo of what he had already told her. In other words, he would repeat, and he would beg her

On reentering the room, we found the eminent oculists seated as far apart as possible one from the other.

Both gentlemen were engaged in reading. Mr. Sebright was reading a book. Herr Grosse was reading the

I placed Lucilla close by me, and took her hand. It was as cold as ice. My poor dear trembled pitiably. For

her, what moments of unutterable suffering were those moments of suspense, before the surgeons delivered

their sentence! I pressed her little cold hand in mine, and whispered "Courage!" Truly I can say it (though I

"No," said Herr Grosse, ogling the Mayonnaise. Lucilla turned her face towards me; her color shifting and

changing, her bosom rising and falling more and more rapidly. I whispered to her to compose herself. "One

of them, at any rate," I said, "thinks you will recover your sight." She understood me, and became quieter

The wearisome contest of courtesy was renewed between our medical advisers. Mr. Sebright bowed to Herr

"You first." Herr Grosse bowed to Mr. Sebright: "Noyou!" My impatience broke through this cruel and

ridiculous professional restraint. "Speak both together, gentlemen, if you like!" I said sharply. "Do anything,

for God's sake, but keep us in suspense. Is it, or is it not, possible to restore her sight?"

Lucilla dropped back again into her chair, and silently laid her head on my shoulder.

"I agree again," continued the Englishman"with a reservation. Cataract is sometimes curable."

"With all possible deference," said Mr. Sebright, "I dispute that conclusion. The cataract, in Miss Finch's

"My reasons are based on surgical considerations which it requires a professional training to understand," Mr.

Sebright replied. "I can only tell you that I am convincedafter the most minute and careful

examinationthat Miss Finch's sight is irrevocably gone. Any attempt to restore it by an operation, would

be, in my opinion, an unwarrantable proceeding. The young lady would not only have the operation to

undergo, she would be kept secluded afterwards, for at least six weeks or two months, in a darkened room.

During that time, it is needless for me to remind you that she would inevitably form the most confident hope

of her restoration to sight. Remembering this, and believing as I do that the sacrifice demanded of her would

end in failure, I think it most undesirable to expose our patient to the moral consequences of a disappointment

which must seriously try her. She has been resigned from childhood to her blindness. As an honest man, who

feels bound to speak out and to speak strongly, I advise you not further to disturb that resignation. I declare it

to be, in my opinion, certainly useless, and possibly dangerous, to allow her to be operated on for the

Lucilla's hand closed fast on mine. "Cruel! cruel!" she whispered to herself angrily. I gave her a little squeeze,

recommending patienceand looked in silent expectation (just as Nugent was looking too) at Herr Grosse.

The German rose deliberately to his feet, and waddled to the place in which Lucilla and I were sitting

"Goot! I have now my own word to put in," said Herr Grosse. "It shall be one little wordno more. With my

best compliments to Mr. Sebrights, I set up against what he only thinks, what IGrossewith these hands

of mine have done. The cataracts of Miss there, is a cataracts that I have cut into before, a cataracts that I

have cured before. Now look!" He suddenly wheeled round to Lucilla, tucked up his cuffs, laid a forefinger

of each hand on either side of her forehead, and softly turned down her eyelids with his two big thumbs. "I

pledge you my word as surgeonoptic," he resumed, "my knife shall let the light in here. This lofablenice

girls shall be more lofablenicer than ever. My pretty Feench must be first in her best goot health. She must

next gif me my own ways with herand then one, two, threeping! my pretty Feench shall see!" He lifted

Lucilla's eyelids again as he said the last wordglared fiercely at her through his spectaclesgave her the

loudest kiss, on the forehead, that I ever heard given in my lifelaughed till the room rang againand

returned to his post as sentinel on guard over the Mayonnaise. "Now," cried Herr Grosse cheerfully, "the

She crossed the room to the table at which he was sitting, already occupied in carving his favorite dish.

"Yes, yes. Don't you be frightened of that. Not much pains to bearnot much pains."

"Get up, Herr Grosse," she said. "If you have your knife about you, here am Ido it at once!"

Nugent started. Mr. Sebright started. Her daring amazed them both. As for me, I am the greatest coward

living, in the matter of surgical operations performed on myself or on others. Lucilla terrified me. I ran

Before I could reach her, Herr Grosse had risen, obedient to command, with a choice morsel of chicken on

the end of his fork. "You charming little fools," he said, "I don't cut into cataracts in such a hurry as that. I

perform but one operations on you today. It is this!" He unceremoniously popped the morsel of chicken into

Lucilla's mouth. "Aha! Bite him well. He is nicegoot! Now then! Sit down all of you. Lonch! lonch!"

The rest of us ate. Herr Grosse gobbled. From Mayonnaise to marmalade tart. From marmalade tart back

again to Mayonnaise. From Mayonnaise, forward again to ham sandwiches and blancmange; and then back

once more (on the word of an honest woman) to Mayonnaise! His drinking was on the same scale as his

eating. Beer, wine, brandynothing came amiss to him; he mixed them all. As for the lighter elements in the

feastthe almonds and raisins, the preserved ginger and the crystallized fruits, he ate them as

accompaniments to everything. A dish of olives especially won his favor. He plunged both hands into it, and

deposited his fistsfull of olives in the pockets of his trousers. "In this ways," he explained, "I shall trouble

nobody to pass the dishI shall have by me continually all the olives that I want." When he could eat and

drink no more, he rolled up his napkin into a ball, and became devoutly thankful. "How goot of Gott," he

remarked, "when he invented the worlds to invent eatings and drinkings too! Ah!" sighed Herr Grosse, gently

laying his outspread fingers on the pit of his stomach, "what immense happiness there is in This!"

"If there is anything more to be said on the question of the operation," he announced, "it must be said at once.

We have barely five minutes more to spare. You have heard my opinion. I hold to it."

"I am obliged to you, sir, for your opinion," she said, very quietly and firmly. "I am determined to try the

operation. If it does fail, it will only leave me what I am now. If it succeeds, it gives me a new life. I will bear

So, she announced her decision. In those memorable words, she cleared the way for the coming Event in her

"I cannot affect to be surprised at your decision," he said. "However sincerely I may regret it, I admit that it is

"Choose your own day," she said. "The sooner, the better. Tomorrow, if you can."

"Answer me one little thing, Miss," rejoined the German, with a sudden gravity of tone and manner which

"Goot. There is times, my lofe, to be funny. There is also times to be grave. It is gravetimes now. I have my

With his wild black eyes staring through his owlish spectacles at Lucilla's face, speaking earnestly in his

strange broken English, he now impressed on his patient the necessity of gravely considering, and preparing

I was greatly relieved by the tone he took with her. He spoke with authority: she would be obliged to listen to

In the first place, he warned Lucilla, if the operation failed, that there would be no possibility of returning to

it, and trying it again. Once done, be the results what they might, it was done for good.

In the second place, before he would consent to operate, he must insist on certain conditions, essential to

success, being rigidly complied with, on the part of the patient and her friends. Mr. Sebright had by no means

exaggerated the length of the time of trial which would follow the operation, in the darkened room. Under no

circumstances could she hope to have her eyes uncovered, even for a few moments, to the light, after a

shorter interval than six weeks. During the whole of that time, and probably during another six weeks to

follow, it was absolutely necessary that she should be kept in such a state of health as would assist her,

constitutionally, in her gradual progress towards complete restoration of sight. If body and mind both were

not preserved in their best and steadiest condition, all that his skill could do might be done in vain. Nothing to

excite or to agitate her, must be allowed to find its way into the quiet daily routine of her life, until her

medical attendant was satisfied that her sight was safe. The success of Herr Grosse's professional career had

been due, in no small degree, to his rigid enforcement of these rules: founded on his own experience of the

influence which a patient's general health, moral as well as physical, exercised on that patient's chance of

profiting under an operationmore especially under an operation on an organ so delicate as the organ of

Having spoken to this effect, he appealed to Lucilla's own good sense to recognize the necessity of taking

time to consider her decision, and to consult on it with relatives and friends. In plain words, for at least three

months the family arrangements must be so shaped, as to enable the surgeon in attendance on her to hold the

absolute power of regulating her life, and of deciding on any changes introduced into it. When she and the

members of her family circle were sure of being able to comply with these conditions, Lucilla had only to

write to him at his hotel in London. On the next day he would undertake to be at Dimchurch. And then and

there (if he was satisfied with the state of her health at the time), he would perform the operation.

After pledging himself in those terms, Herr Grosse puffed out his remaining breath in one deep guttural

"Hah!"and got briskly on his short legs. At the same moment, Zillah knocked at the door, and announced

Mr. Sebright rosein some doubt, apparently, whether his colleague had done talking. "Don't let me hurry

you," he said. "I have business in London; and I must positively catch the next train."

"Soh! I have my business in London, too," answered his brotheroculist"the business of pleasure." (Mr.

Sebright looked scandalized at the frankness of this confession, coming from a professional man). "I am so

passionfond of musics," Herr Grosse went on"I want to be in goot times for the opera. Ach Gott! musics

is expensive in England! I climb to the gallery, and pay my five silver shillingses even there. For five copper

pences, in my own country, I can get the same thingonly better done. From the deep bottoms of my heart,"

proceeded this curious man, taking a cordial leave of me, "I thank you, dear madam, for the Mayonnaise.

When I come again, I pray you more of that lofely dish." He turned to Lucilla, and popped his thumb on her

eyelids for the last time at parting. "My sweetFeench, remember what your surgeonoptic has said to you. I

shall let the light in herebut in my own way, at my own time. Pretty lofe! Ah, how infinitely much prettier

she will be, when she can see!" He took Lucilla's hand, and put it sentimentally inside the collar of his

waistcoat, over the region of the heart; laying his other hand upon it as if he was keeping it warm. In this

tender attitude, he blew a prodigious sigh; recovered himself, with a shake of his shockhead; winked at me

through his spectacles, and waddled out after Mr. Sebright, who was already at the bottom of the stairs. Who

would have guessed that this man held the key which was to open for my blind Lucilla the gates of a new

WE were left together; Nugent having accompanied the two oculists to the gardengate.

Now that we were alone, Oscar's absence could hardly fail to attract Lucilla's attention. Just as she was

referring to him in terms which made it no easy task for me to quiet her successfully, we were interrupted by

the screams of the baby, ascending from the garden below. I ran to the window, and looked out.

Mrs. Finch had actually effected her desperate purpose of waylaying the two surgeons in the interests of

"baby's eyes." There she was, in a skirt and a shawlwith her novel dropped in one part of the lawn, and her

handkerchief in the otherpursuing the oculists on their way to the chaise. Reckless of appearances, Herr

Grosse had taken to his heels. He was retreating from the screeching infant (with his fingers stuffed into his

ears), as fast as his short legs would let him. Nugent was ahead of him, hurrying on to open the gardengate.

Respectable Mr. Sebright (professionally incapable of running) brought up the rear. At short intervals, Mrs.

Finch, close on his heels, held up the baby for inspection. At short intervals, Mr. Sebright held up his hands

in polite protest. Nugent, roaring with laughter, threw open the gardengate. Herr Grosse rushed through the

opening, and disappeared. Mr. Sebright followed Herr Grosse; and Mrs. Finch attempted to follow Mr.

Sebrightwhen a new personage appeared on the scene. Startled in the sanctuary of his study by the noise,

the rector himself strutted into the garden, and brought his wife to a sudden standstill, by inquiring in his

Some words, inaudible to my ears, passed between Nugent and the rectorreferring, as I could only

suppose, to the visit of the two departing surgeons. After awhile, Mr. Finch turned away (to all appearance

offended by something which had been said to him), and addressed himself to Oscar, who now reappeared on

the lawn; having evidently only waited to show himself, until the chaise drove away. The rector paternally

took his arm; and, beckoning to his wife with the other hand, took Mrs. Finch's arm next. Majestically

marching back to the house between the two, Reverend Finch asserted himself and his authority alternately,

now to Oscar and now to his wife. His big booming voice reached my ears distinctly, accompanied in sharp

In these terrible words the Pope of Dimchurch began:"Oscar! you are to understand distinctly, if you

please, that I maintain my protest against this impious attempt to meddle with my afflicted daughter's

sight.Mrs. Finch! you are to understand that I excuse your unseemly pursuit of two strange surgeons, in

consideration of the state that I find you in at this moment. After your last confinement but eight you became,

I remember, hysterically irresponsible. Hold your tongue. You are hysterically irresponsible now.Oscar! I

decline, in justice to myself, to be present at any discussion which may follow the visit of those two

professional persons. But I am not averse to advising you for your own good. My Foot is down. Put your foot

down too.Mrs. Finch! how long is it since you ate last? Two hours? Are you sure it is two hours? Very

good. You require a sedative application. I order you, medically, to get into a warm bath, and stay there till I

come to you.Oscar! you are deficient, my good fellow, in moral weight. Endeavor to oppose yourself

resolutely to any scheme, on the part of my unhappy daughter or of those who advise her, which involves

more expenditure of money in fees, and new appearances of professional persons.Mrs. Finch! the

temperature is to be ninetyeight, and the position partially recumbent.Oscar! I authorize you (if you can't

stop it in any other way) to throw My moral weight into the scale. You are free to say 'I oppose This, with

Mr. Finch's approval: I am, so to speak, backed by Mr. Finch.'Mrs. Finch! I wish you to understand the

object of the bath. Hold your tongue. The object is to produce a gentle action on your skin. One of the women

is to keep her eye on your forehead. The instant she perceives an appearance of moisture, she is to run for

me.Oscar! you will let me know at what decision they arrive, upstairs in my daughter's room. Not after

they have merely heard what you have to say, but after My Moral Weight has been thrown into the

scale.Mrs. Finch! on leaving the bath, I shall have you only lightly clothed. I forbid, with a view to your

head, all compression, whether of stays or strings, round the waist. I forbid garterswith the same object.

You will abstain from tea and talking. You will lie, loose, on your back. You will"

What else this unhappy woman was to do, I failed to hear. Mr. Finch disappeared with her, round the corner

of the house. Oscar waited at the door of our side of the rectory, until Nugent joined him, on their way back

Throughout the whole of the time during which the surgeons had been in the house, I had noticed that Nugent

persisted in keeping himself scrupulously in the background. Having assumed the responsibility of putting

the serious question of Lucilla's sight scientifically to the test, he appeared to be resolved to pause there, and

to interfere no further in the affair after it had passed its first stage. And now again, when we were met in our

little committee to discuss, and possibly to combat, Lucilla's resolution to proceed to extremities, he once

"I have brought Oscar back with me," he said to Lucilla; "and I have told him how widely the two oculists

differ in opinion on your case. He knows also that you have decided on being guided by the more favorable

There he stopped abruptly and seated himself apart from us, at the lower end of the room.

"Why have you kept out of the way?" she asked. "Why have you not been with me, at the most important

"Because I felt your anxious position too keenly," Oscar answered. "Don't think me inconsiderate towards

you, Lucilla. If I had not kept away, I might not have been able to control myself."

I thought that reply far too dexterous to have come from Oscar on the spur of the moment. Besides, he looked

at his brother when he said the last words. It seemed more than likelyshort as the interval had been before

they appeared in the sittingroomthat Nugent had been advising Oscar, and had been telling him what to

"Mr. Sebright tells me, Oscar, that my sight is hopelessly gone," she said. "Herr Grosse answers for it that an

operation will make me see. Need I tell you which of the two I believe in? If I could have had my own way,

Lucilla told him of the reasons which the German oculist had stated as unanswerable reasons for delay. Oscar

"As I understand it," he said, "if you decide on risking the operation at once, you decide on undergoing six

weeks' imprisonment in a darkened room, and on placing yourself entirely at the surgeon's disposal for six

weeks more, after that. Have you considered, Lucilla, that this means putting off our marriage again, for at

"If you were in my place, Oscar, you would let nothing, not even your marriage, stand in the way of your

restoration to sight. Don't ask me to consider, love. I can consider nothing but the prospect of seeing You!"

That fearlessly frank confession silenced him. He happened to be sitting opposite to the glass, so that he

could see his face. The poor wretch abruptly moved his chair, so as to turn his back on it.

I looked at Nugent, and surprised him trying to catch his brother's eye. Prompted by him, as I could now no

longer doubt, Oscar had laid his finger on a certain domestic difficulty which I had had in my mind, from the

(The marriage of Oscar and Lucillait is here necessary to explainhad encountered another obstacle, and

undergone a new delay, in consequence of the dangerous illness of Lucilla's aunt. Miss Batchford, formally

invited to the ceremony as a matter of course, had most considerately sent a message begging that the

marriage might not be deferred on her account. Lucilla, however, had refused to allow her wedding to be

celebrated, while the woman who had been a second mother to her, lay at the point of death. The rector

having an eye to rich Miss Batchford's moneynot for himself (Miss B. detested him), but for Lucillahad

supported his daughter's decision; and Oscar had been compelled to submit. These domestic events had taken

place about three weeks since; and we were now in receipt of news which not only assured us of the old

lady's recovery, but informed us also that she would be well enough to make one of the wedding party in a

fortnight's time. The bride's dress was in the house; the bride's father was ready to officiateand here, like a

fatality, was the question of the operation unexpectedly starting up, and threatening another delay yet, for a

period which could not possibly be shorter than a period of three months! Add to this, if you please, a new

element of embarrassment as follows. Supposing Lucilla to persist in her resolution, and Oscar to persist in

concealing from her the personal change in him produced by the medical treatment of the fits, what would

happen? Nothing less than this. Lucilla, if the operation succeeded, would find out for herselfbefore

instead of after her marriagethe deception that had been practiced on her. And how she might resent that

deception, thus discovered, the cleverest person among us could not pretend to foresee. There was our

situation, as we sat in domestic parliament assembled, when the surgeons had left us!)

Finding it impossible to attract his brother's attention, Nugent had no alternative but to interfere actively for

"Let me suggest, Lucilla," he said, "that it is your duty to look at the other side of the question, before you

make up your mind. In the first place, it is surely hard on Oscar to postpone the weddingday again. In the

second place, clever as he is, Herr Grosse is not infallible. It is just possible that the operation may fail, and

that you may find you have put off your marriage for three months, to no purpose. Do think of it! If you defer

the operation on your eyes till after your marriage, you conciliate all interests, and you only delay by a month

"If you were blind," she answered, "you would not willingly delay by a single hour the time when you might

see. You ask me to think of it. I ask you to think of the years I have lost. I ask you to think of the exquisite

happiness I shall feel, when Oscar and I are standing at the altar, if I can see the husband to whom I am

giving myself for life! Put it off for a month? You might as well ask me to die for a month. It is like death to

be sitting here blind, and to know that a man is within a few hours' reach of me who can give me my sight! I

tell you all plainly, if you go on opposing me in this, I don't answer for myself. If Herr Grosse is not recalled

to Dimchurch before the end of the weekI am my own mistress; I will go to him in London!"

Oscar was too painfully agitated to speak. He softly crossed to my chair; and, kneeling by me, put my hand

You may consider me a heartless woman if you will. I remained entirely unmoved even by this. Lucilla's

interests and my interests, you will observe, were now one. I had resolved, from the first, that she should not

be married in ignorance of which was the man who was disfigured by the blue face. If she took the course

which would enable her to make that discovery for herself, at the right time, she would spare me the

performance of a very painful and ungracious dutyand she would marry, as I was determined she should

marry, with a full knowledge of the truth. In this position of affairs, it was no business of mine to join the

twinbrothers in trying to make her alter her resolution. On the contrary, it was my business to confirm her in

"I can't see that I have any right to interfere," I said. "In Lucilla's placeafter one and twenty years of

blindnessI too should sacrifice every other consideration to the consideration of recovering my sight."

Oscar instantly rose, offended with me, and walked away to the window. Lucilla's face brightened gratefully.

"Ah!" she said, "you understand me!" Nugent, in his turn, left his chair. He had confidently calculated, in his

brother's interests, on Lucilla's marriage preceding the recovery of Lucilla's sight. That calculation was

completely baffled. The marriage would now depend on the state of Lucilla's feelings, after she had

penetrated the truth for herself. I saw Nugent's face darken, as he walked to the door.

"Madame Pratolungo," he said, "you may, one day, regret the course that you have just taken. Do as you

He left the room, with a quiet submission to circumstances which became him admirably. Now, as always, it

was impossible not to compare him advantageously with his vacillating brother. Oscar turned round at the

window, apparently with the idea of following Nugent out. At the first step he checked himself. There was a

last effort still left to make. Reverend Finch's "moral weight" had not been thrown into the scale yet.

"There is one thing more, Lucilla," he said, "which you ought to know before you decide. I have seen your

father. He desires me to tell you that he is strongly opposed to the experiment which you are determined to

Lucilla sighed wearily. "It is not the first time that I find my father failing to sympathize with me," she said.

"I am distressedbut not surprised. It is you who surprise me!" she added, suddenly raising her voice. "You,

who love me, are not one with me, when I am standing on the brink of a new life. Good Heavens! are my

interests not your interests in this? Is it not worth your while to wait till I can look at you when I vow before

God to love, honor, and obey you? Do you understand him?" she asked, appealing abruptly to me. "Why does

I turned to Oscar. Now was the time for him to fall at her feet and own it! Here was the golden opportunity

that might never come again. I signed to him impatiently to take it. He tried to take itlet me do him the

justice now, which I failed to do him at the timehe tried to take it. He advanced towards her; he struggled

with himself; he said, "There is a motive for my conduct, Lucilla" and stopped. His breath failed him;

he struggled again; he forced out a word or two more: "A motive," he went on, "which I have been afraid to

The tone in which she spoke broke down his last reserves of resolution. He turned his head suddenly so as not

to see her. At the final momentmiserable, miserable man!at the final moment, he took refuge in an

Lucilla rose, bitterly disappointed, and opened the door that led into her own room.

"If it had been you who were blind," she answered, "your belief would have been my belief, and your hope

my hope. It seems I have expected too much from you. Live and learn! live and learn!"

She went into her room, and closed the door on us. I could bear it no longer. I got up, with the firm resolution

in me to follow her, and say the words which he had failed to say for himself. My hand was on the door,

when I was suddenly pulled back from it by Oscar. I turned, and faced him in silence.

"No!" he said, with his eyes fixed on mine, and his hand still on my arm. "If I don't tell her, nobody shall tell

"She shall be deceived no longershe must, and shall, hear it," I answered. "Let me go!"

"You have given me your promise to wait for my leave before you open your lips. I forbid you to open your

I snapped the fingers of my hand that was free, in his face. "That for my promise!" I said. "Your contemptible

weakness is putting her happiness in peril as well as yours." I turned my head towards the door, and called to

His hand closed fast on my arm. Some lurking devil in him that I had never seen yet, leapt up and looked at

"Tell her," he whispered savagely between his teeth; "and I will contradict you to your face! If you are

desperate, I am desperate too. I don't care what meanness I am guilty of! I will deny it on my honor; I will

deny it on my oath. You heard what she said about you at Browndown. She will believe me before you."

A moment's glance at Oscar warned me that he would do what he had threatened, if I persisted in my

resolution. The desperation of a weak man is, of all desperations, the most unscrupulous and the most

unmanageablewhen it is once roused. Angry as I was, I shrank from degrading him, as I must now have

degraded him, if I matched my obstinacy against his. In mercy to both of them, I gave way.

"I may be going out, my dear, before it gets dark," I said to Lucilla. "Can I do anything for you in the

"Yes," she said, "if you will wait a little, you can take a letter for me to the post."

I neither looked at Oscar, nor spoke to him, when we were alone again. He was the first who broke the

A wise woman would not have allowed him to irritate her into saying another word. Alas! I am not a wise

"Your own time?" I repeated with the whole force of my contempt. "If you don't own the truth to her before

the German surgeon comes back, your time will have gone by for ever. He has told us in the plainest

termswhen once the operation is performed, nothing must be said to agitate or distress her, for months

afterwards. The preservation of her tranquillity is the condition of the recovery of her sight. You will soon

"Spare your sneers, you heartless Frenchwoman!" he broke out angrily. "I don't care how I stand in

My vile temper instantly hit on the most merciless answer that I could make to him in return.

"Ah, poor Lucilla!" I said. "What a much happier prospect hers might have been! What a thousand pities it is

He winced under that reply, as if I had cut him with a knife. His head dropped on his breast. He started back

I had not been a minute by myself, before my anger cooled. I tried to keep it hot; I tried to remember that he

had aspersed my nation in calling me a "heartless Frenchwoman." No! it was not to be done. In spite of

I was too late. I heard the gardengate bang, before I was out of the house. Twice I approached the gate to

follow him. And twice I drew back, in the fear of making bad worse. It ended in my returning to the

The first welcome interruption to my solitude camenot from Lucillabut from the old nurse. Zillah

appeared with a letter for me: left that moment at the rectory by the servant from Browndown. The direction

"MADAME PRATOLUNGO,YOU have distressed and pained me more than I can say. There are faults,

and serious ones, on my side, I know. I heartily beg your pardon for anything that I may have said or done to

offend you. I cannot submit to your hard verdict on me. If you knew how I adore Lucilla, you would make

allowances for meyou would understand me better than you do. I cannot get your last cruel words out of

my ears. I cannot meet you again without some explanation of them. You stabbed me to the heart, when you

said to me this evening that it would be a happier prospect for Lucilla if she had been going to marry my

brother instead of marrying me. I hope you did not really mean that? Will you please write and tell me

Write and tell him? It was absurd enoughwhen we were within a few minutes' walk of each otherthat

Oscar should prefer the cold formality of a letter, to the friendly ease of a personal interview. Why could he

not have called, and spoken to me? We should have made it up together far more comfortably in that

wayand in half the time. At any rate, I determined to go to Browndown, and be good friends again,

viv�voce, with this poor, weak, wellmeaning, illjudging boy. Was it not monstrous to have attached

serious meaning to what Oscar had said when he was in a panic of nervous terror! His tone of writing so

keenly distressed me that I resented his letter on that very account. It was one of the chilly evenings of an

English June. A small fire was burning in the grate. I crumpled up the letter, and threw it, as I supposed, into

the fire. (Afterevents showed that I only threw it into a corner of the fender instead.) Then, I put on my hat,

without stopping to think of Lucilla, or of what she was writing for the post, and ran off to Browndown.

Where do you think I found him? Locked up in his own room! His insane shynessit was really nothing

lessmade him shrink from that very personal explanation which (with such a temperament as mine) was

the only possible explanation under the circumstances. I had to threaten him with forcing his door, before I

Once face to face with him, I soon set things right. I really believe he had been half mad with his own

selfimposed troubles, when he had declared he would give me the lie at the door of Lucilla's room.

It is needless to dwell on what took place between us. I shall only say here that I had serious reason, at a later

timeas you will soon seeto regret not having humoured Oscar's request that I should reconcile myself to

him by writing, instead of by word of mouth. If I had only placed on record, in pen and ink, what I actually

said in the way of making atonement to him, I might have spared some suffering to myself and to others. As

it was, the only proof that I had absolved myself in his estimation consisted in his cordially shaking hands

"Did you meet Nugent?" he asked, as he walked with me across the enclosure in front of the house.

I had gone to Browndown by a short cut at the back of the garden, instead of going through the village.

"Only his usual kindness. He takes your views of things. He laughed when he heard I had sent a letter to you,

and he ran off (dear fellow!) to see you on my behalf. You must have met him, if you had come here by the

On getting back to the rectory, I questioned Zillah. Nugent, in my absence, had run up into the sittingroom;

had waited there a few minutes alone, on the chance of my return; had got tired of waiting, and had gone

away again. I inquired about Lucilla next. A few minutes after Nugent had gone, she had left her room, and

she too had asked for me. Hearing that I was not to be found in the house, she had given Zillah a letter to

I happened to be standing by the hearth, looking into the dying fire, while the nurse was speaking. Not a

vestige of Oscar's letter to me (as I now well remember) was to be seen. In my position, the plain conclusion

was that I had really done what I supposed myself to have donethat is to say, thrown the letter into the

Entering Lucilla's room, soon afterwards, to make my apologies for having forgotten to wait and take her

letter to the post, I found her, weary enough after the events of the day, getting ready for bed.

"I don't wonder at your being tired of waiting for me," she said. "Writing is long, long work for me. But this

was a letter which I felt bound to write myself, if I could. Can you guess who I am corresponding with? It is

"What is there to wait for? What is there left to determine on? I have told Herr Grosse that our family

consultation is over, and that I am entirely at his disposal for any length of time he may think right. And I

warn him, if he attempts to put it off, that he will be only forcing on me the inconvenience of going to him in

London. I have expressed that part of my letter stronglyI can tell you! He will get it tomorrow, by the

THE intervalday before the second appearance of Herr Grosse, and the experiment on Lucilla's sight that

was to follow it, was marked by two incidents which ought to be noticed in this place.

The first incident was the arrival, early in the morning, of another letter addressed to me privately by Oscar

Dubourg. Like many other shy people, he had a perfect mania, where any embarrassing circumstances were

concerned, for explaining himself, with difficulty, by means of his pen, in preference to explaining himself,

Oscar's present communication informed me that he had left us for London by the first morning train, and

that his object in taking this sudden journey wasto state his present position towards Lucilla to a gentleman

especially conversant with the peculiarities of blind people. In plain words, he had resolved on applying to

"I like Mr. Sebright" (Oscar wrote) "as cordially as I detest Herr Grosse. The short conversation I had with

him has left me with the pleasantest impression of his delicacy and his kindness. If I freely reveal to this

skillful surgeon the sad situation in which I am placed, I believe his experience will throw an entirely new

light on the present state of Lucilla's mind, and on the changes which we may expect to see produced in her,

if she really does recover her sight. The result may be of incalculable benefit in teaching me how I may own

the truth, most harmlessly to her, as well as to myself. Pray don't suppose I undervalue your advice. I only

want to be doubly fortified, before I risk my confession, by the advice of a scientific man."

All this I took to mean, in plain English, that vacillating Oscar wanted to quiet his conscience by gaining

time, and that his absurd idea of consulting Mr. Sebright was nothing less than a new and plausible excuse for

putting off the evil day. His letter ended by pledging me to secrecy, and by entreating me so to manage

matters as to grant him a private interview on his return to Dimchurch by the evening train.

I confess I felt some curiosity as to what would come of the proposed consultation between unready Oscar

and precise Mr. Sebrightand I accordingly arranged to take my walk alone, towards eight o'clock that

The second incident of the day may be described as a confidential conversation between Lucilla and myself,

on the subject which now equally absorbed us boththe momentous subject of her restoration to the blessing

She joined me at the breakfasttable with her ready distrust newly excited, poor thing, by Oscar. He had

accounted to her for his journey to London by putting forward the commonplace excuse of "business." She

instantly suspected (knowing how he felt about it) that he was secretly bent on interfering with the

performance of the operation by Herr Grosse. I contrived to compose the anxiety thus aroused in her mind, by

informing her, on Oscar's own authority, that he personally disliked and distrusted the German oculist. "Make

A long silence between us followed those words. When Lucilla next referred to Oscar in connection with the

coming operation, the depressed state of her spirits seemed to have quite altered her view of her own

prospects. She, of all the people in the world, now spoke in disparagement of the blessing conferred on the

"Do you know one thing?" she said. "If I had not been going to be married to Oscar, I doubt if I should have

cared to put any oculist, native or foreign, to the trouble of coming to Dimchurch."

"I don't think I understand you," I answered. "You cannot surely mean to say that you would not have been

"What! you, who have written to Grosse to hurry the operation, don't care to see?"

"I only care to see Oscar. And, what is more, I only care to see him because I am in love with him. But for

that, I really don't feel as if it would give me any particular pleasure to use my eyes. I have been blind so

"And yet, you looked perfectly entranced when Nugent first set you doubting whether you were blind for

"Nugent took me by surprise," she answered; "Nugent startled me out of my senses. I have had time to think

since; I am not carried away by the enthusiasm of the moment now. You people who can see attach such an

absurd importance to your eyes! I set my touch, my dear, against your eyes, as much the most trustworthy,

and much the most intelligent sense of the two. If Oscar was not, as I have said, the uppermost feeling with

me, shall I tell you what I should have infinitely preferred to recovering my sightsupposing it could have

been done?" She shook her head with a comic resignation to circumstances. "Unfortunately, it can't be done!"

"The stretching out of these to an enormous and unheardof length. That is what I should have liked!" she

answered. "I could find out better what was going on at a distance with my hands, than you could with your

eyes and your telescopes. What doubts I might set at rest for instance about the planetary system, among the

"Is it? Just tell me which knows best in the darkmy touch or your eyes? Who has got a sense that she can

always trust to serve her equally well through the whole fourandtwenty hours? You or me? But for

Oscarto speak in sober earnest, this timeI tell you I would much rather perfect the sense in me that I

have already got, than have a sense given to me that I have not got. Until I knew Oscar, I don't think I ever

"Can you always trust your eyes, even in broad daylight?" she burst out. "How often do they deceive you, in

the simplest things? What did I hear you all disputing about the other day in the garden? You were looking at

"Yesat the view down the alley of trees at the other end of the churchyard wall."

"I heard you up here. You all differed in opinion, in spite of your wonderful eyes. My father said it moved.

You said it stood still. Oscar said it was a man. Mrs. Finch said it was a calf. Nugent ran off, and examined

this amazing object at close quarters. And what did it turn out to be? A stump of an old tree blown across the

road in the night! Why am I to envy people the possession of a sense which plays them such tricks as that?

No! no! Herr Grosse is going to 'cut into my cataracts,' as he calls itbecause I am going to be married to a

man I love; and I fancy, like a fool, I may love him better still, if I can see him. I may be quite wrong," she

I thought of Oscar's face, and felt a sickening fear that she might be speaking far more seriously than she

suspected. I tried to change the subject. No! Her imaginative nature had found its way into a new region of

"I associate light," she said thoughtfully, "with all that is beautiful and heavenlyand dark with all that is

vile and horrible and devilish. I wonder how light and dark will look to me when I see?"

"I believe they will astonish you," I answered, "by being entirely unlike what you fancy them to be now."

"Will Oscar's face be utterly unlike what I fancy it to be now?" she asked, in suddenly altered tones. "Do you

mean to say that I have not had the right image of him in my mind all this time?"

I tried again to draw her off to another topic. What more could I dowith my tongue tied by the German's

warning to us not to agitate her, in the face of the operation to be performed on the next day?

"Have I no means of judging rightly what Oscar is like?" she said. "I touch my own face; I know how long it

is and how broad it is; I know how big the different features are, and where they are. And then I touch Oscar,

and compare his face with my knowledge of my own face. Not a single detail escapes me. I see him in my

mind as plainly as you see me across this table. Do you mean to say, when I see him with my eyes, that I

shall discover something perfectly new to me? I don't believe it!" She started up impatiently, and took a turn

in the room. "Oh!" she exclaimed, with a stamp of her foot, "why can't I take laudanum enough, or

chloroform enough to kill me for the next six weeksand then come to life again when the German takes the

bandage off my eyes!" She sat down once more, and drifted all on a sudden into a question of pure morality.

"Tell me this," she said. "Is the greatest virtue, the virtue which it is most difficult to practice?"

She drummed with both hands on the table, petulantly, viciously, as hard as she could.

"Then, Madame Pratolungo," she said, "the greatest of all the virtues isPatience. Oh, my friend, how I hate

Thinking afterwards of the new side of her mind which Lucilla had shown to me, I derived one consolation

from what had passed at the breakfasttable. If Mr. Sebright proved to be right, and if the operation failed

after all, I had Lucilla's word for it that blindness, of itself, is not the terrible affliction to the blind which the

Towards halfpast seven in the evening, I went out alone, as I had planned, to meet Oscar on his return from

At a long straight stretch of the road, I saw him advancing towards me. He was walking more rapidly than

usual, and singing as he walked. Even through its livid discoloration, the poor fellow's face looked radiant

with happiness as he came nearer. He waved his walkingstick exultingly in the air. "Good news!" he called

out at the top of his voice. "Mr. Sebright has made me a happy man again!" I had never before seen him so

He gave me his arm; and, talking all the way, we walked back slowly to Dimchurch.

"In the first place," he began, "Mr. Sebright holds to his own opinion more firmly than ever. He feels

"No," he said. "Though, mind, I own to my shame there was a time when I almost hoped it would fail. Mr.

Sebright has put me in a better frame of mind. I have little or nothing to dread from the success of the

operationif, by any extraordinary chance, it should succeed. I remind you of Mr. Sebright's opinion merely

to give you a right idea of the tone which he took with me at starting. He only consented under protest to

contemplate the event which Lucilla and Herr Grosse consider to be a certainty. 'If the statement of your

position requires it,' he said, 'I will admit that it is barely possible she may be able to see you two months

"Shall I tell you how Mr. Sebright received the information?" I said. "He held his tongue, and made you a

"Quite true!" he answered. "I told him next of Lucilla's extraordinary antipathy to dark people, and dark

shades of color of all kinds. Can you guess what he said to me when I had done?"

I owned that my observation of Mr. Sebright's character did not extend to guessing that.

"He said it was a common antipathy in his experience of the blind. It was one among the many strange

influences exercised by blindness on the mind. 'The physical affliction has its mysterious moral influence,' he

said. 'We can observe it, but we can't explain it. The special antipathy which you mention, is an incurable

antipathy, except on one conditionthe recovery of the sight.' There he stopped. I entreated him to go on.

No! He declined to go on until I had finished what I had to say to him first. I had my confession still to make

"Nothing. I laid my weakness bare before him. I told him that Lucilla was still firmly convinced that Nugent's

was the discolored face, instead of mine. And then I put the questionWhat am I to do?"

"In these words:'If you ask me what you are to do, in the event of her remaining blind (which I tell you

again will be the event), I decline to advise you. Your own conscience and your own sense of honor must

decide the question. On the other hand, if you ask me what you are to do, in the event of her recovering her

sight, I can answer you unreservedly in the plainest terms. Leave things as they are; and wait till she sees.'

Those were his own words. Oh, the load that they took off my mind! I made him repeat themI declare I

I understood the motive of Oscar's good spirits, better than I understood the motive of Mr. Sebright's advice.

"You shall hear his reasons directly. He insisted on first satisfying himself that I thoroughly understood my

position at that moment. 'The prime condition of success, as Herr Grosse has told you,' he said, 'is the perfect

tranquillity of the patient. If you make your confession to the young lady when you get back tonight to

Dimchurch, you throw her into a state of excitement which will render it impossible for my German

colleague to operate on her tomorrow. If you defer your confession, the medical necessities of the case force

you to be silent, until the professional attendance of the oculist has ceased. There is your position! My advice

to you is to adopt the last alternative. Wait (and make the other persons in the secret wait) until the result of

the operation has declared itself.' There I stopped him. 'Do you mean that I am to be present, on the first

occasion when she is able to use her eyes?' I asked. 'Am I to let her see me, without a word beforehand to

We were now getting to the interesting part of it. You English people, when you are out walking and are

carrying on a conversation with a friend, never come to a standstill at the points of interest. We foreigners, on

the other hand, invariably stop. I surprised Oscar by suddenly pulling him up in the middle of the road.

I held him tighter than ever, and ordered him more resolutely than ever to go on. Oscar resigned himself to a

"Mr. Sebright met my question by putting a question on his side," he resumed. "He asked me how I proposed

"I said I had planned to make an excuse for leaving Dimchurchand, once away, to prepare her, by writing,

"He wouldn't hear of it. He said, 'I strongly recommend you to be present on the first occasion when she is

capable (if she ever is capable) of using her sight. I attach the greatest importance to her being able to correct

the hideous and absurd image now in her mind of a face like yours, by seeing you as you really are at the

We were just walking on again, when certain words in that last sentence startled me. I stopped short once

"Hideous and absurd image?" I repeated, thinking instantly of my conversation of that morning with Lucilla.

"Just what I asked him. His reply will interest you. It led him into that explanation of his motives which you

"When I had spoken to Mr. Sebright of Lucilla's inveterate prejudice," Oscar continued, "he had surprised me

by saying that it was common in his experience, and was only curable by her restoration to sight. In support

of those assertions, he now told me of two interesting cases which had occurred in his professional practice.

The first was the case of the little daughter of an Indian officerblind from infancy like Lucilla. After

operating successfully, the time came when he could permit his patient to try her sightthat is to say, to try

if she could see sufficiently well at first, to distinguish dark objects from light. Among the members of the

household assembled to witness the removal of the bandage, was an Indian nurse who had accompanied the

family to England. The first person the child saw was her mothera fair woman. She clasped her little hands

in astonishment, and that was all. At the next turn of her head, she saw the dark Indian nurse and instantly

screamed with terror. Mr. Sebright owned to me that he could not explain it. The child could have no possible

association with colors. Yet there nevertheless was the most violent hatred and horror of a dark object (the

hatred and horror peculiar to the blind) expressing itself unmistakably in a child of ten years old! My first

thought, while he was telling me this, was of myself, and of my chance with Lucilla. My first question was,

'Did the child get used to the nurse?' I can give you his answer in his own words. 'In a week's time, I found

the child sitting in the nurse's lap as composedly as I am sitting in this chair.'"That is encouragingisn't

"The second instance was more curious still. This time the case was the case of a grown manand the object

was to show me what strange fantastic images (utterly unlike the reality) the blind form of the people about

them. The patient was married, and was to see his wife (as Lucilla is one day to see me) for the first time. He

had been told, before he married her, that she was personally disfigured by the scar of a wound on one of her

cheeks. The poor womanah, how well I can understand her!trembled for the consequences. The man

who had loved her dearly while he was blind, might hate her when he saw her scarred face. Her husband had

been the first to console her when the operation was determined on. He declared that his sense of touch, and

the descriptions given to him by others, had enabled him to form, in his own mind, the most complete and

faithful image of his wife's face. Nothing that Mr. Sebright could say would induce him to believe that it was

physically impossible for him to form a really correct idea of any object, animate or inanimate, which he had

never seen. He wouldn't hear of it. He was so certain of the result, that he held his wife's hand in his, to

encourage her, when the bandage was removed from him. At his first look at her, he uttered a cry of horror,

and fell back in his chair in a swoon. His wife, poor thing, was distracted. Mr. Sebright did his best to

compose her, and waited till her husband was able to answer the questions put to him. It then appeared that

his blind idea of his wife, and of her disfigurement had been something so grotesquely and horribly unlike the

reality, that it was hard to know whether to laugh or to tremble at it. She was as beautiful as an angel, by

comparison with her husband's favorite idea of herand yet, because it was his idea, he was absolutely

disgusted and terrified at the first sight of her! In a few weeks he was able to compare his wife with other

women, to look at pictures, to understand what beauty was and what ugliness wasand from that time they

I was not quite sure which way this last example pointed. It alarmed me when I thought of Lucilla. I came to

"You shall hear," said Oscar. "He first appealed to the case as supporting his assertion that Lucilla's idea of

me must be utterly unlike what I am myself. He asked if I was now satisfied that she could have no correct

conception of what faces and colors were really like? and if I agreed with him in believing that the image in

her mind of the man with the blue face, was in all probability something fantastically and hideously unlike

the reality? After what I had heard, I agreed with him as a matter of course. 'Very well,' says Mr. Sebright.

'Now let its remember that there is one important difference between the case of Miss Finch, and the case that

I have just mentioned. The husband's blind idea of his wife was the husband's favorite idea. The shock of the

first sight of her, was plainly a shock to him on that account. Now Miss Finch's blind idea of the blue face is,

on the contrary, a hateful idea to herthe image is an image that she loathes. Is it not fair to conclude from

this, that the first sight of you as you really are, is likely to be, in her case, a relief to her instead of a shock?

Reasoning from my experience, I reach that conclusion; and I advise you, in your own interests, to be present

when the bandage is taken off. Even if I prove to be mistakeneven if she is not immediately reconciled to

the sight of youthere is the other example of the child and the Indian nurse to satisfy you that it is only a

question of time. Sooner or later, she will take the discovery as any other young lady would take it. At first,

she will be indignant with you for deceiving her; and then, if you are sure of your place in her affections, she

will end in forgiving you.There is my view of your position, and there are the grounds on which I form it!

In the meantime, my own opinion remains unshaken. I firmly believe that you will never have occasion to act

on the advice that I have given to you. When the bandage is taken off, the chances are five hundred to one

that she is no nearer to seeing you then than she is now.' These were his last wordsand on that we parted."

I had nothing to say against Mr. Sebright's reasons; it was impossible to question the professional experience

from which they were drawn. As to blind people in general, I felt no doubt that his advice was good, and that

his conclusions were arrived at correctly. But Lucilla's was no ordinary character. My experience of her was

better experience than Mr. Sebright'sand the more I thought of the future, the less inclined I felt to share

Oscar's hopeful view. She was just the person to say something or do something, at the critical moment of the

experiment, which would take the wisest previous calculation by surprise. Oscar's prospects never had looked

It would have been useless and cruel to have said to him what I have just said here. I put as bright a face on it

"Yes," he said. "With a certain reservation of my own, which occurred to me after I had left his house."

"Certainly. I mean to beg Nugent to leave Dimchurch, before Lucilla tries her sight for the first time. He will

"Then I mean to be presentas Mr. Sebright suggestedwhen the bandage is taken off."

"Previously telling Lucilla," I interposed, "that it is you who are in the room?"

"No. There I take the precaution that I alluded to just now. I propose to leave Lucilla under the impression

that it is I who have left Dimchurch, and that Nugent's face is the face she sees. If Mr. Sebright proves to be

right, and if her first sensation is a sensation of relief, I will own the truth to her the same day. If not, I will

wait to make my confession until she has become reconciled to the sight of me. That plan meets every

possible emergency. It is one of the few good ideas that my stupid head has hit on since I have been at

He said those last words with such an innocent air of triumph, that I really could not find it in my heart to

damp his ardor by telling him what I thought of his idea. All I said was, "Don't forget, Oscar, that the

cleverest plans are at the mercy of circumstances. At the last moment, an accident may happen which will

We came in sight of the rectory as I gave him that final warning. Nugent was strolling up and down the road

on the lookout for us. I left Oscar to tell his story over again to his brother, and went into the house.

Lucilla was at her piano when I entered the sittingroom. She was not only playingbut (a rare thing with

her) singing too. The song was, poetry and music both, of her own composing. "I shall see him! I shall see

him!" In those four words the composition began and ended. She adapted them to all the happy melodies in

her memory. She accompanied them with hands that seemed to be mad for joyhands that threatened every

moment to snap the chords of the instrument. Never, since my first day at the rectory, had I heard such a

noise in our quiet sittingroom as I heard now. She was in a fever of exhilaration which, in my foreboding

frame of mind at that moment, it pained and shocked me to see. I lifted her off the musicstool, and shut up

"Compose yourself for heaven's sake," I said. "Do you want to be completely exhausted when the German

That consideration instantly checked her. She suddenly became quiet, with the abrupt facility of a child.

"I forgot that," she said, sitting down in a corner, with a face of dismay. "He might refuse to perform the

I got the book. Ah, the poor author! Neither she nor I paid the slightest attention to him. Worse still, we

abused him for not interesting usand then shut him up with a bang, and pushed him rudely into his place

She was standing at her window when I went in to wish her good night. The mellow moonlight fell tenderly

"Moon that I have never seen," she murmured softly, "I feel you looking at me! Is the time coming when I

shall look at You?" She turned from the window, and eagerly put my fingers on her pulse. "Am I quite

composed again?" she asked. "Will he find me well tomorrow? Feel it! feel it! Is it quiet now?"

She slept well. As for me, I passed such a wretched night, and got up so completely worn out, that I had to go

back to my room after breakfast, and lie down again. Lucilla persuaded me to do it. "Herr Grosse won't be

We had reckoned without allowing for the eccentric character of our German surgeon. Excepting the business

of his profession, Herr Grosse did everything by impulse, and nothing by rule. I had not long fallen into a

broken unrefreshing sleep, when I felt Zillah's hand on my shoulder, and heard Zillah's voice in my ear.

"Please to get up, ma'am! He's herehe has come from London by the morning train."

There, at the table, sat Herr Grosse with an open instrumentcase before him; his wild black eyes gloating

over a hideous array of scissors, probes, and knives, and his shabby hat hard by with lint and bandages

huddled together anyhow inside it. And there stood Lucilla by his side, stooping over himwith one hand

laid familiarly on his shoulder, and with the other deftly fingering one of his horrid instruments to find out

I CLOSED the First Part of my narrative on the day of the operation, the twentyfifth of June.

I open the Second Part, between six and seven weeks later, on the ninth of August.

Searching backwards in my memory, I call to life again the domestic history of the six weeks. It looks, on

retrospection, miserably dull and empty of incident. I wonder when I contemplate it now, how we got through

that weary intervalhow we bore that forced inaction, that unrelieved oppression of suspense.

Changing from bedroom to sittingroom, from sittingroom back to bedroom; with the daylight always

shut out; with the bandages always on, except when the surgeon looked at her eyes; Lucilla bore the

imprisonmentand worse than the imprisonment, the uncertaintyof her period of probation, with the

courage that can endure anything, the courage sustained by Hope. With books, with music, with talkabove

all, with Love to help hershe counted her way calmly through the dull succession of hours and days till the

time came which was to decide the question in dispute between the oculiststhe terrible question of which

I was not present at the examination which finally decided all doubt. I joined Oscar in the gardenquite as

incapable as he was of exerting the slightest selfcontrol. We paced silently backwards and forwards on the

lawn, like two animals in a cage. Zillah was the only witness present when the German examined our poor

darling's eyes; Nugent engaging to wait in the next room and announce the result from the window. As the

event turned out, Herr Grosse was beforehand with him. Once more we heard his broken English shouting,

"Hihihoi! hoihi! hoihi!" Once more, we beheld his huge silk handkerchief waving at the window. I

turned sick and faint under the excitement of the momentunder the rapture (it was nothing less) of hearing

those three electrifying words: "She will see!" Mercy! how we did abuse Mr. Sebright, when we were all

From the moment when she was positively informed that the operation had succeeded, our oncepatient

Lucilla developed into a new being. She now rose in perpetual revolt against the caution which still deferred

the day on which she was to be allowed to make the first trial of her sight. It required all my influence,

backed by Oscar's entreaties, and strengthened by the furious foreign English of our excellent German

surgeon (Herr Grosse had a temper of his own, I can tell you!) to prevent her from breaking through the

medical discipline which held her in its grasp. When she became quite unmanageable, and vehemently

abused him to his face, our good Grosse used to swear at her, in a compound bad language of his own, with a

tremendous aspiration at the beginning of it, which always set matters right by making her laugh. I see him

again as I write, leaving the room on these occasions, with his eyes blazing through his spectacles, and his

shabby hat cocked sideways on his head. "Soh, you littlespitfireFeench! If you touch that bandages when I

Tranquilized as to the future, after his interview with Mr. Sebright, Oscar presented himself at his best during

the time of which I am now writing. Lucilla's main reliance in her days in the darkened room, was on what

her lover could do to relieve and to encourage her. He never once failed her; his patience was perfect; his

devotion was inexhaustible. It is sad to say so, in view of what happened afterwards; but I only tell a

necessary truth when I declare that he immensely strengthened his hold on her affections, in those last days of

her blindness when his society was most precious to her. Ah, how fervently she used to talk of him when she

and I were left together at night! Forgive me if I leave this part of the history of the courtship untold. I don't

like to write of itI don't like to think of it. Let us get on to something else.

Nugent comes next. I would give a great deal, poor as I am, to be able to leave him out. It is not to be done. I

must write about that lost wretch, and you must read about him, whether we like it or not.

The days of Lucilla's imprisonment, were also the days when my favorite disappointed me, for the first time.

He and his brother seemed to change places. It was Nugent now who appeared to disadvantage by

comparison with Oscar. He surprised and grieved his brother by leaving Browndown. "All I can do for you, I

have done," he said. "I can be of no further use for the present to anybody. Let me go. I am stagnating in this

miserable placeI must, and will, have change." Oscar's entreaties, in Nugent's present frame of mind, failed

to move him. Away he went one morning, without bidding anybody goodbye. He had talked of being absent

for a weekhe remained away for a month. We heard of him, leading a wild life, among a vicious set of

men. It was reported that a frantic restlessness possessed him which nobody could understand. He came back

as suddenly as he had left us. His variable nature had swung round, in the interval, to the opposite extreme.

He was full of repentance for his reckless conduct; he was in a state of depression which defied rousing; he

despaired of himself and his future. Sometimes he talked of going back to America; and sometimes he

threatened to close his career by enlisting as a private soldier. Would any other person, in my place, have

seen which way these signs pointed? I doubt it, if that person's mind had been absorbed, as mine was, in

watching Lucilla day by day. Even if I had been a suspicious woman by naturewhich, thank God, I am

notmy distrust must have lain dormant, in the allsubduing atmosphere of suspense hanging heavily on me

So much, briefly, for the sayings and doings of the persons principally concerned in this narrative, during the

This was the memorable day chosen by Herr Grosse for risking the experiment of removing the bandage, and

permitting Lucilla to try her sight for the first time. Conceive for yourselves (don't ask me to describe) the

excitement that raged in our obscure little circle, now that we were standing face to face with that grand

Event in our lives which I promised to relate in the opening sentence of these pages.

I was the earliest riser at the rectory that morning. My excitable French blood was in a fever. I was irresistibly

reminded of myself, at a time long pastthe time when my glorious Pratolungo and I, succumbing to Fate

and tyrants, fled to England for safety; martyrs to that ungrateful Republic (long live the Republic!) for which

I opened my window, and hailed the good omen of sunrise in a clear sky. Just as I was turning away again

from the view, I saw a figure steal out from the shrubbery and appear on the lawn. The figure came nearer. I

"What in the world are you doing there, at this time in the morning?" I called out.

He lifted his finger to his lips, and came close under my window before he answered.

"Hush!" he said. "Don't let Lucilla hear you. Come down to me as soon as you can. I am waiting to speak to

"Nugent has disappointed me," he answered. "Do you remember the evening when you met me after my

"I told you that I meant to ask Nugent to leave Dimchurch, on the day when Lucilla tried her sight for the first

"Carefullybefore I asked him to go. I told him how impossible it was to say what might happen. I

reminded him that it might be of the utmost importance to me to preserve the impression now in Lucilla's

mindfor a certain time onlyafter Lucilla could see. I promised, the moment she became reconciled to the

sight of me, to recall him, and in his presence to tell her the truth. All that I said to himand how do you

"No. He walked away from me to the window, and considered a little. Then he turned round suddenly and

said 'What did you tell me was Mr. Sebright's opinion? Mr. Sebright thought she would be relieved instead of

being terrified. In that case, what need is there for me to go away? You can acknowledge at once that she has

seen your face, and not mine?' He put his hands in his pockets when he had said that (you know Nugent's

"I said, 'Suppose Mr. Sebright is wrong?' He only answered, 'Suppose Mr. Sebright is right?' I followed him

to the windowI never heard him speak so sourly to me as he spoke at that moment. 'What is your objection

to going away for a day or two?' I asked. 'My objection is soon stated,' he answered. 'I am sick of these

everlasting complications. It is useless and cruel to carry on the deception any longer. Mr. Sebright's advice is

the wise advice and the right advice. Let her see you as you are.' With that answer, he walked out of the

room. Something has upset himI can't imagine what it is. Do pray see what you can make of him! My only

I own I felt reluctant to interfere. Suddenly and strangely as Nugent had altered his point of view, it seemed

to me undeniable that Nugent was right. At the same time, Oscar looked so disappointed and distressed, that

it was really impossible, on that day above all others, to pain him additionally by roundly saying No. I

undertook to do what I couldand I inwardly hoped that circumstances would absolve me from the necessity

I was out in the village, after breakfast, on a domestic errand connected with the necessary culinary

preparations for the reception of Herr Grossewhen I heard my name pronounced behind me, and, turning

I instantly noticed a return in him, as he said that, to the same dogged ungracious manner which had

perplexed and displeased me at my last confidential interview with him in the rectory garden.

"I know! I know! Oscar is worse than a child. I am beginning to lose all patience with him."

"I am sorry to hear you say that, Nugent. You have borne with him so kindly thus farsurely you can make

allowances for him today? His whole future may depend on what happens in Lucilla's sittingroom a few

"You are the last person living who has any right to say that. Oscar is in a false position towards Lucilla, with

your knowledge and consent. In your brother's interests, you agreed to the fraud that has been practiced on

her. In your brother's interests, again, you are asked to leave Dimchurch. Why do you refuse?"

"I refuse, because I have come round to your way of thinking. What did you say of Oscar and of me, in the

summerhouse? You said we were taking a cruel advantage of Lucilla's blindness. You were right. It was

cruel not to have told her the truth. I won't be a party to concealing the truth from her any longer! I refuse to

persist in deceiving herin meanly deceiving heron the day when she recovers her sight!"

It is entirely beyond my power to describe the tone in which he made that reply. I can only declare that it

struck me dumb for the moment. I drew a step nearer to him. With vague misgivings in me, I looked him

I could discover nothing in his faceI could only follow my instincts as a woman. Those instincts warned

"What do you propose to do, when Herr Grosse arrives, and we assemble in Lucilla's room?"

"I propose to be present among the rest of you, at the most interesting moment of Lucilla's life."

"You have forgotten that Lucilla believes the brother with the discolored face to be You, and the brother with

the fair complexion to be Oscar. You have forgotten that the surgeon has expressly forbidden us to agitate her

by entering into any explanations before he allows her to use her eyes. You have forgotten that the very

deception which you have just positively refused to go on with, will be nevertheless a deception continued, if

you are present when Lucilla sees. Your own resolution pledges you not to enter the rectory doors until

Lucilla has discovered the truth." In those words I closed the vice on him. I had got Mr. Nugent Dubourg!

He pronounced those submissive words in a suddenlylowered voice. Something in his tone, or something in

the dropping of his eyes, set my heart beating quickly, with a certain vague expectation which I was unable to

"You agree with me," I said, "that you cannot be one amongst us at the rectory? What will you do?"

I felt he was lying. Don't ask for my reasons: I have no reasons to give. When he said "I will remain at

"Why not do what Oscar asks of you?" I went on. "If you are absent, you may as well be in one place as in

"Who are you indebted to for what is going to happen today?" he went on, more and more passionately.

"You are indebted to Me. Who among you all stood alone in refusing to believe that she was blind for life?

I did! Who brought the man here who has given her back her sight? I brought the man! And I am the one

person who is to be left in ignorance of how it ends. The others are to be present: I am to be sent away. The

others are to see it: I am to hear by post (if any of you think of writing to me) what she does, what she says,

how she looks, at the first heavenly moment when she opens her eyes on the world." He flung up his hand in

the air, and burst out savagely with a bitter laugh. "I astonish you, don't I? I am claiming a position which I

have no right to occupy. What interest can I feel in it? Oh God! what do I care about the woman to whom I

have given a new life?" His voice broke into a sob at those last wild words. He tore at the breast of his coat as

I stood rooted to the spot. In one breathless instant, the truth broke on me like a revelation. At last I had

My first impulse, when I recovered myself, hurried me at the top of my speed back to the rectory. For a

moment or two, I think I must really have lost my senses. I felt a frantic suspicion that he had gone into the

house, and that he was making his way to Lucilla at that moment. When I found that all was quietwhen

Zillah had satisfied me that no visitor had come near our side of the rectoryI calmed down a little, and

went back to the garden to compose myself before I ventured into Lucilla's presence.

After awhile, I got over the first horror of it, and saw my own position plainly. There was not a living soul at

Dimchurch in whom I could confide. Come what might of it, in this dreadful emergency, I must trust in

I had just arrived at that startling conclusion; I had shed some bitter tears when I remembered how hardly I

had judged poor Oscar on more than one occasion; I had decided that my favorite Nugent was the most

hateful villain living, and that I would leave nothing undone that the craft of a woman could compass to drive

him out of the placewhen I was forced back to present necessities by the sound of Zillah's voice calling to

me from the house. I went to her directly. The nurse had a message for me from her young mistress. My poor

Lucilla was lonely and anxious: she was surprised at my leaving her, she insisted on seeing me immediately.

I took my first precaution against a surprise from Nugent, as I crossed the threshold of the door.

"Our dear child must not be disturbed by visitors today," I said to Zillah. "If Mr. Nugent Dubourg comes

SHE was sitting alone in the dim light, with the bandage over her eyes, with her pretty hands crossed

patiently on her lap. My heart swelled in me as I looked at her, and felt the horrid discovery that I had made

still present in my mind. "Forgive me for leaving you," I said in as steady a voice as I could command at the

She instantly discovered my agitation, carefully as I thought I had concealed it.

"Frightened, my love?" I repeated. (I was perfectly stupefied; I really did not know what to say!)

"Yes. Now the time is so near, I feel my courage failing me. I forbode all sorts of horrible things. Oh! when

"Describe him to me once more," she said eagerly. "For the last time, before I see. His eyes, his hair, his

How I should have got through the painful task which she had innocently imposed on me, if I had attempted

to perform it, I hardly like to think. To my infinite relief, I was interrupted at my first word by the opening of

First, strutting with slow and solemn steps, with one hand laid pathetically on the breast of his clerical

waistcoat, appeared Reverend Finch. After him, came his wife, shorn of all her proper

accompanimentsexcept the baby. Without her novel, without her jacket, petticoat, or shawl, without even

the handkerchief which she was always losingclothed, for the first time in my experience, in a complete

gownthe metamorphosis of damp Mrs. Finch was complete. But for the baby, I believe I should have taken

her, in the dim light, for a stranger! She stood (apparently doubtful of her reception) hesitating in the

doorway, and so hiding a third member of the deputationwho appealed piteously to the general notice in a

small voice which I knew well, and in a form of address familiar to me from past experience.

The rector took his hand from his waistcoat, and held it up in faint protest against the intrusion of the third

member. Mrs. Finch moved mechanically into the room. Jicks appeared, hugging her disreputable doll, and

showing signs of recent wandering in the white dust which dropped on the carpet from her frock and her

shoes, as she advanced towards the place in which I was sitting. Arrived in front of me, she peered quaintly

up at my face, through the obscurity of the room; lifted her doll by the legs; hit me a smart rap with the head

I rubbed my knee, and enthroned Jicks as ordered. At the same time Mr. Finch solemnly stalked up to his

daughter; laid his hands on her head; raised his eyes to the ceiling; and said in bass notes that rumbled with

At the sound of her husband's magnificent voice, Mrs. Finch became herself again. She said meekly, "How

"My advice has been neglected, Lucilla. My paternal influence has been repudiated. My Moral Weight has

been, so to speak, set aside. I don't complain. Understand meI simply state sad facts." (Here he became

aware of my existence.) "Good morning, Madame Pratolungo; I hope I see you well?There has been

variance between us, Lucilla. I come, my child, with healing on my wings (healing being understood, for

present purposes, as reconciliation)I come, and bring Mrs. Finch with medon't speak, Mrs. Finch!to

offer my heartfelt wishes, my fervent prayers, on this the most eventful day in my daughter's life. No vulgar

curiosity has turned my steps this way. No hint shall escape my lips, touching any misgivings which I may

still feel as to this purely worldly interference with the ways of an inscrutable Providence. I am here as parent

steppeacemaker. (You understand the distinction, Madame Pratolungo? Thank you. Good creature.) Shall I

preach forgiveness of injuries from the pulpit, and not practice that forgiveness at home? Can I remain, on

this momentous occasion, at variance with my child? Lucilla! I forgive you. With full heart and tearful eyes, I

forgive you. (You have never had any children, I believe, Madame Pratolungo? Ah! you cannot possibly

understand this. Not your fault. Good creature. Not your fault.) The kiss of peace, my child; the kiss of

peace." He solemnly bent his bristly head, and deposited the kiss of peace on Lucilla's forehead. He sighed

superbly, and in a burst of magnanimity, held out his hand next to me. "My Hand, Madame Pratolungo.

Compose yourself. Don't cry. God bless you. Mrs. Finch, deeply affected by her husband's noble conduct,

began to sob hysterically. The baby, disarranged in his proceedings by the emotions of his mama, set up a

sympathetic scream. Mr. Finch crossed the room to them, with domestic healing on his wings. "This does you

credit, Mrs. Finch; but, under the circumstances, it must not be continued. Control yourself, in consideration

of the infant. Mysterious mechanism of Nature!" cried the rector, raising his prodigious voice over the louder

and louder screeching of the baby. "Marvelous and beautiful sympathy which makes the maternal sustenance

the conducting medium, as it were, of disturbance between the mother and child. What problems confront us,

what forces environ us, even in this mortal life! Nature! Maternity! Inscrutable Providence!"

"Inscrutable Providence" was the rector's fatal phraseit always brought with it an interruption; and it

brought one now. Before Mr. Finch (brimful of pathetic apostrophes) could burst into more exclamations, the

Giving that answer, and passing by my chair to place himself on the other side of Lucilla, Oscar cast at me

one imploring looka look which said plainly, "Don't desert me when the time comes!" I nodded my head to

show that I understood him and felt for him. He sat down in the vacant chair by Lucilla, and took her hand in

silence. It was hard to say which of the two felt the position, at that trying moment, most painfully. I don't

think I ever saw any sight so simply and irresistibly touching as the sight of those two poor young creatures

sitting hand in hand, waiting the event which was to make the happiness or the misery of their future lives.

"Have you seen anything of your brother?" I asked, putting the question in as careless a tone as my devouring

Oscar's eyes once more encountered mine, as he replied in those terms; I saw again the imploring look more

marked in them than ever. It was plain to him, as it was plain to me, that Nugent had gone to meet the

German, with the purpose of making Herr Grosse the innocent means of bringing him into the house.

Before I could speak again, Mr. Finch, recovering himself after the interruption which had silenced him, saw

his opportunity of setting in for another harangue. Mrs. Finch had left off sobbing; the baby had left off

screaming; the rest of us were silent and nervous. In a word, Mr. Finch's domestic congregation was entirely

at Mr. Finch's mercy. He strutted up to Oscar's chair. Was he going to propose to read Hamlet? No! He was

"On this interesting occasion," began the rector in his pulpit tones; "now that we are all united in the same

room, all animated by the same hopeI could wish, as pastor and parent (God bless you, Oscar: I look on

you as a son. Mrs. Finch, follow my example, look on him as a son!)I could wish, as pastor and parent, to

The doorthe friendly, admirable, judicious doorstopped the coming sermon, in the nick of time, by

opening again. Herr Grosse's squat figure and owlish spectacles appeared on the threshold. And behind him

Lucilla turned deadly pale: she had heard the door open, she knew by instinct that the surgeon had come.

Oscar got up, stole behind my chair, and whispered to me, "For God's sake, get Nugent out of the room!" I

gave him a reassuring squeeze of the hand, and, putting Jicks down on the floor, rose to welcome our good

The child, as it happened, was beforehand with me. She and the illustrious oculist had met in the garden at

one of the German's professional visits to Lucilla, and had taken an amazing fancy to each other. Herr Grosse

never afterwards appeared at the rectory without some unwholesome eatable thing in his pocket for Jicks;

who gave him in return as many kisses as he might ask for, and further distinguished him as the only living

creature whom she permitted to nurse the disreputable doll. Grasping this same doll now, with both hands,

and using it headforemost, as a kind of batteringram, Jicks plunged in front of me, and butted with all her

might at the surgeon's bandy legs; insisting on a monopoly of his attention before he presumed to speak to

any other person in the room. While he was lifting her to a level with his face, and talking to her in his

wonderful broken Englishwhile the rector and Mrs. Finch were making the necessary apologies for the

child's conductNugent came round from behind Herr Grosse, and drew me mysteriously into a corner of

the room. As I followed him, I saw the silent torture of anxiety expressed in Oscar's face as he stood by

Lucilla's chair. It did me good; it strung up my resolution to the right pitch; it made me feel myself a match,

"I am afraid I behaved in a very odd manner, when we met in the village?" he said. "The fact is, I am not at

all well. I have been in a strange feverish state lately. I don't think the air of this place suits me." There he

stopped; keeping his eyes steadily fixed on mine, trying to read my mind in my face.

"I am not surprised to hear you say that," I answered. "I have noticed that you have not been looking well

My tone and manner (otherwise perfectly composed) expressed polite sympathyand nothing more. I saw I

"I was excitedpainfully excited. You are too kind to admit it; I am sure I owe you my apologies?"

"No, indeed! you were certainly excited, as you say. But we are all in the same state today. The occasion,

Not the slightest sign in my face of any sort of suspicion of him rewarded the close and continued scrutiny

with which he regarded me. I saw in his perplexed expression, the certain assurance that I was beating him at

his own weapons. He made a last effort to entrap me into revealing that I suspected his secrethe attempted,

"You are no doubt astonished at seeing me here," he resumed. "I have not forgotten that I promised to remain

at Browndown instead of coming to the rectory. Don't be angry with me: I am under medical orders which

"I will explain myself," he rejoined. "You remember that we long since took Grosse into our confidence, on

"I am not likely to have forgotten it," I answered, "considering that it was I who first warned your brother that

"Perfectly. He promised to be careful. But, at the same time, he gruffly forbade us to involve him in any more

of our family troubles. He said he was determined to preserve his professional freedom of action, without

being hampered by domestic difficulties which might concern us, but which did not concern him. Is my

"Your memory is wonderful. You will now understand me when I tell you that Grosse asserts his professional

freedom of action on this occasion. I had it from his own lips on our way here. He considers it very important

that Lucilla should not be frightened at the moment when she tries her sight. Oscar's face is sure to startle her,

if it is the first face she sees. Grosse has accordingly requested me to be present (as the only other young man

in the room), and to place myself so that I shall be the first person who attracts her notice. Ask him yourself,

"Of course I believe you!" I answered. "It is useless to dispute the surgeon's orders at such a time as this."

With that, I left him; showing just as much annoyance as an unsuspecting woman, in my position, might have

naturally betrayedand no more. Knowing, as I did, what was going on under the surface, I understood only

too plainly what had happened. Nugent had caught at the opportunity which the surgeon had innocently

offered to him, as a means of misleading Lucilla at the moment, and (possibly) of taking some base

advantage of her afterwards. I trembled inwardly with rage and fear, as I turned my back on him. Our one

chance was to make sure of his absence, at the critical momentand, cudgel my brains as I might, how to

When I returned to the other persons in the room, Oscar and Lucilla were still occupying the same positions.

Mr. Finch had presented himself (at full length) to Herr Grosse. And Jicks was established on a stool in a

corner: devouring a rampant horse, carved in biliousyellow German gingerbread, with a voracious relish

"Ah, my goot Madame Pratolungo!" said Herr Grosse, stopping on his way to Lucilla to shake hands with

me. "Have you made anodder lofely Mayonnaise? I have come on purpose with an emptystomachs, and a

wolf'sappetite in fine order. Look at that little Imps," he went on, pointing to Jicks. "Ach Gott! I believe I

am in lofe with her. I have sent all the ways to Germany for gingerbreads for Jick. Aha, you Jick! does it stick

in your tooths? Is it niceclammysweet?" He glared benevolently at the child through his spectacles; and

tucked my hand sentimentally into the breast of his waistcoat. "Promise me a child like adorable Jick," he

said solemnly, "I will marry the first wife you bring menice womans, nasty womans, I don't care which.

Soh! there is my domestic sentiments laid bare before you. Enough of that. Now for my prettyFeench!

"Open the shutters," he said. "Lightlightlight, and plenty of him, for my lofely Feench!"

Nugent opened the shutters, beginning with the lower window, and ending with the window at which Lucilla

was sitting. Acting on this plan, he had only to wait where he was, to place himself close by herto be the

first object she saw. He did it. The villain did it. I stepped forward, determined to interfereand stopped, not

knowing what to say or do. I could have beaten my own stupid brains out against the wall. There stood

Nugent right before her, as the surgeon turned his patient towards the window. And not the ghost of an idea

The German stretched out his hairy hands, and took hold of the knot of the bandage to undo it.

Herr Grosse hesitatedlooked at herlet go of the bandageand lifting one of her hands, laid his fingers on

In the moment of silence that followed, I had one of my inspirations. The missing idea turned up in my brains

"Soh!" cried Grosse, dropping her hand with a sudden outbreak of annoyance and surprise. Who has been

frightening my pretty Feench? Why these cold trembles? these sinking pulses? Some of you tell mewhat

"It means," I said, "that there are too many people in this room. We confuse her, and frighten her. Take her

into her bedroom, Herr Grosse; and only let the rest of us in, when you think rightone at a time."

"You are a phenix among womens," he said, paternally patting me on the shoulder. "Which is most

perfectest, your advice or your Mayonnaise, I am at a loss to know." He turned to Lucilla, and raised her

gently from her chair. "Come into your own rooms with me, my poor little Feench. I shall see if I dare take

"You promised!" she said. "Oh, Herr Grosse, you promised to let me use my eyes today!"

"Answer me this!" retorted the German. "Did I know, when I promised, that I should find you all shakypale,

"I am quite myself again," she pleaded faintly. "I am quite fit to have the bandage taken off."

"What! you know better than I do? Which of us is surgeonopticyou or me? No more of this. Come under

He put her arm in his, and walked with her to the door. There, her variable humour suddenly changed. She

rallied on the instant. Her face flushed; her courage came back. To my horror, she snatched her arm away

"No!" she said. "I am quite composed again; I claim your promise. Examine me here. I must and will have

(I was afraidliterally afraidto turn my eyes Oscar's way. I glanced at Nugent instead. There was a

"You must and weel?" repeated Grosse. "Now, mind!" He took out his watch. "I give you one little minutes,

to think in. If you don't come with me in that time, you shall find it is I who must and weel. Now!"

"Because I want everybody to see me," she answered. "How many of you are there here?"

"There are five of us. Mr. and Mrs. Finch; Mr. Nugent Dubourg; Oscar, and myself."

"Because you would see me pick out Oscar from all the rest, the instant the bandage was off my eyes!"

Still holding to her own fatal conviction that the image in her mind of Oscar was the right one! For the

second time, though I felt the longing in me to look at him, I shrank from doing it.

"The minutes is passed," he said. "Will you come into the odder rooms? Will you understand that I cannot

properly examine you before all these peoples? Say, my lofely FeenchYes? or No?"

"No!" she cried obstinately, with a childish stamp of her foot. "I insist on showing everybody that I can pick

Herr Grosse buttoned his coat, settled his owlish spectacles firmly on his nose, and took up his hat. "Goot

morning," he said. "I have nothing more to do with you or your eyes. Cure yourself, you

He opened the door. Even Lucilla was obliged to yield, when the surgeon in attendance on her threatened to

Grosse indulged himself in his diabolical grin. "Wait till you are able to use your eyes, my lofe. Then you

We were left in the sittingroom, to wait until the surgeon had decided whether he would, or would not, let

While the others were, in their various ways, all suffering the same uneasy sense of expectation, I was as

quiet in my mind as the baby now sleeping in his mother's arms. Thanks to Grosse's resolution to act on the

hint that I had given to him, I had now made it impossibleeven if the bandage was removed on that

dayfor Nugent to catch Lucilla's first look when she opened her eyes. Her betrothed husband might

certainly, on such a special occasion as this, be admitted into her bedchamber, in company with her father or

with me. But the commonest sense of propriety would dictate the closing of the door on Nugent. In the

sittingroom he must wait (if he still persisted in remaining at the rectory) until she was allowed to join him

there. I privately resolved, having the control of the matter in my own hands, that this should not happen until

Lucilla knew which of the twins was Nugent, and which was Oscar. A delicious inward glow of triumph

diffused itself all through me. I resisted the strong temptation that I felt to discover how Nugent bore his

defeat. If I had yielded to it, he would have seen in my face that I gloried in having outwitted him. I sat down,

the picture of innocence, in the nearest chair, and crossed my hands on my lap, a composed and ladylike

The slow minutes followed each otherand still we waited the event in silence. Even Mr. Finch's tongue

was, on this solitary occasion, a tongue incapable of pronouncing a single word. He sat by his wife at one end

of the room. Oscar and I were at the other. Nugent stood by himself at one of the windows, deep in his own

Oscar was the first of the party who broke the silence. After looking all round the room, he suddenly

I had completely forgotten the child. I too looked round the room, and satisfied myself that she had really

disappeared. Mrs. Finch, observing our astonishment, timidly enlightened us. The maternal eye had seen

Jicks slip out cunningly at Herr Grosse's heels. The child's object was plain enough. While there was any

probability of the presence of more gingerbread in the surgeon's pocket, the wandering Arab of the family (as

stealthy and as quick as a cat) was certain to keep within reach of her friend. Nobody who knew her could

doubt that she had stolen into Lucilla's bedchamber, under cover of Herr Grosse's ample coattails.

We had just accounted in this way for the mysterious absence of Jicks, when we heard the bedchamber door

opened, and the surgeon's voice calling for Zillah. In a minute more the nurse appeared, the bearer of a

We all surrounded her, with one and the same question to ask. What had Herr Grosse decided to do? The

answer informed us that he had decided on forbidding Lucilla to try her eyes that day.

"I can hardly say, sir. She isn't like herself. I never knew Miss Lucilla so quiet when she was crossed in her

wishes, before. When the doctor called me into the room, she said: 'Go in, Zillah, and tell them.' Those words,

"No, ma'am. I took the liberty of asking her if she wished to see you. Miss Lucilla shook her head, and sat

herself down on the sofa, and made the doctor sit by her. 'Leave us by ourselves.' Those were the last words

Reverend Finch put the next question. The Pope of Dimchurch was himself again: the man of many words

"Good woman," said the rector with ponderous politeness, "step this way. I wish to address an inquiry to you.

Did Miss Finch make any remark, in your hearing, indicating a desire to be comforted by My

Ministrationsas one bearing the double relation towards her of pastor and parent?"

Mr. Finch waved his hand with a look of disgust, intimating that Zillah's audience was over. Nugent, upon

"They were doing what I mentioned just now, sirthey were sitting side by side on the sofa. Miss Lucilla

was talking, and the doctor was listening to her. And Jicks," added Zillah, addressing herself confidentially to

After that, there was no more to be said. Zillahdisturbed over her domestic occupations and eager to get

back to her kitchenseized the first chance of leaving the room; going out in such a hurry that she forgot to

close the door after her. We all looked at each other. To what conclusion did the nurse's strange answers

point? It was plainly impossible for Oscar (no matter how quick his temper might be) to feel jealous of a man

of Grosse's age and personal appearance. Still, the prolonged interview between patient and surgeonafter

the decision had been pronounced and the trial of the eyes definitely deferred to a future dayhad a strange

Nugent returned to his place at the windowpuzzled, suspicious, deep in his own thoughts. Reverend Finch,

swelling with unspoken words, rose portentously from his chair by his wife's side. Had he discovered another

chance of inflicting his eloquence on us? It was only too evident that he had! He looked at us with his

Nugent, unassailable by eloquence, persisted in looking out of the window. Oscar, insensible to every earthly

consideration except the one consideration of Lucilla, drew me aside unceremoniously out of the rector's

"Go to Lucilla!" whispered Oscar, taking me entreatingly by both hands. "You needn't stand on ceremony

"The occasion seems to call upon one in my position for a little sustaining advice on Christian dutyI would

"Do me the greatest of all favors! Pray find out what is keeping Lucilla with that man!"

Mr. Finch cleared his throat, and lifted his right hand persuasively by way of introduction to his next

"I don't like intruding on them. Lucilla told the nurse they were to be left by themselves."

Just as I said the words, I became aware of a sudden bump against me from behind. I turned, and discovered

Jicks with the batteringramdoll, preparing for a second plunge at me. She stopped, when she found that she

had attracted my attention; and, taking hold of my dress, tried to pull me out of the room.

The child pulled harder and harder at my dress. Something had apparently happened outside the sittingroom

which had produced a strong impression on her. Her little round face was flushed; her bright blue eyes were

wide open and staring. "Jicks wants to speak to you," she saidand pulled at me impatiently harder than

I stooped down with the double purpose of obeying Mr. Finch's commands and of humouring the child's

whim, by carrying Jicks out of the room, when I was startled by a sound from the bedchamberthe sound,

There was a moment of silencefollowed by the rustling sound of her dress, approaching us along the

Grosse's voiceunmistakably angry and excitedbecame audible at the same time. "No! Come back! come

Nugent and Mr. Finch moved together closer to the door. Oscar caught me by the arm. He and I were on the

lefthand side of the door: Nugent and the rector were on the righthand side. It all happened with the

suddenness of a flash of lightning. My heart stood still. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move.

The halfclosed door of the sittingroom was burst wide openroughly, violently, as if a man, not a

woman, had been on the other side. (The rector drew back; Nugent remained where he was.) Wildly groping

her way with outstretched arms, as I had never seen her grope it in the time of her blindness, Lucilla

staggered into the room. Merciful God! the bandage was off. The life, the new life of sight, was in her eyes. It

transfigured her face: it irradiated her beauty with an awful and unearthly light. She saw! she saw!

For an instant she stopped at the door, swaying to and fro; giddy under the broad stare of daylight.

She looked at the rectorthen at Mrs. Finch, who had followed her husband. She paused bewildered, and put

her hands over her eyes. She slightly changed her position; turned her head, as if to look at me; turned it back

sharply towards the righthand side of the door again; and threw up her arms in the air, with a burst of

hysterical laughter. The laughter ended in a scream of triumph, which rang through the house. She rushed at

Nugent Dubourg, so blindly incapable of measuring her distance that she struck against him violently, and

nearly threw him down. "I know him! I know him!" she criedand flung her arms round his neck. "Oh,

Oscar! Oscar!" She clasped him to her with all her strength as the name passed her lips, and dropped her head

It was done before any of us had recovered the use of our senses. The whole horrible scene must have begun

and ended in less than half a minute of time. The surgeon, who had run into the room after her,

emptyhanded, turned suddenly, and left it again; coming back with the bandage, left forgotten in the

bedroom. Grosse was the first among us to recover his presence of mind. He approached her in silence.

She heard him, before he could take her by surprise, and slip the bandage over her eyes. The moment when I

turned, horrorstruck, to look at Oscar, was also the moment when she lifted her head from Nugent's bosom

to look for the surgeon. Her eyes followed the direction taken by mine. They encountered Oscar's face. She

A cry of terror escaped her: she started back, shuddering, and caught hold of Nugent's arm. Grosse motioned

sternly to him to turn her face from the window; and lifted the bandage. She clutched at it with feverish

eagerness as he held it up. "Put it on again!" she said, holding by Nugent with one hand, and lifting the other

to point towards Oscar with a gesture of disgust. "Put it on again. I have seen too much already."

Grosse fastened the bandage over her eyes, and waited a little. She still held Nugent's arm. The sting of my

indignation as I saw it, roused me into doing something. I stepped forward to part them. Grosse stopped me.

"No!" he said. "Don't make bad worse." I looked at Oscar for the second time. There he stood, as he had

stood from the first moment when she appeared at the doorhis eyes staring wildly straight before him; his

limbs set and fixed. I went to him, and touched him. He seemed not to feel it. I spoke to him. I might as well

"Not today!" he said sternly. With that, he made a sign to Nugent, and placed himself on Lucilla's other

side. In silence, the two men led her out of the room. The door closed on them. It was over.

A FAINT sound of crying found its way to my ears from the lower end of the room, and reminded me that the

rector and his wife had been present among us. Feeble Mrs. Finch was lying back in her chair, weeping and

wailing over what had happened. Her husband, with the baby in his arms, was trying to compose her. I ought

perhaps to have offered my helpbut, I own, poor Mrs. Finch's distress produced only a passing impression

on me. My whole heart was with another person. I forgot the rector and his wife, and went back to Oscar.

This time he movedhe lifted his head when he saw me. Shall I ever forget the silent misery in that face, the

I took his handI felt for the poor disfigured, rejected man as his mother might have felt for himI gave

him a mother's kiss. "Be comforted, Oscar," I said. "Trust me to set this right."

He drew a long trembling breath, and pressed my hand gratefully. I attempted to speak to him againhe

I went into the corridor. It was empty. I looked into Lucilla's room. She and Grosse and the nurse were the

only persons in it. I beckoned to Zillah to come out and speak to me. I asked for Nugent. He had left Lucilla

abruptly at the bedroom doorhe was out of the house. I inquired if it was known in what direction he had

gone. Zillah had seen him in the field at the end of the garden, walking away rapidly, with his back to the

"I must be by myself," he said. After considering a little, he added a question. "Has Nugent gone to

No tears! no flamingup of the quick temper that I knew so well! Nothing in his face, nothing in his voice,

nothing in his manner, but a composure miserable to seethe composure of despair.

With a gentle handand yet with a firmness which took me completely by surprisehe separated himself

I could stand no longerI dropped trembling into a chair. The conviction forced itself on me that there were

worse complications, direr misfortunes, still to come. I was almost beside myselfI broke out vehemently

with wild words spoken in my own language. Mrs. Finch recalled me to my senses. I saw her as in a dream,

drying her tears, and looking at me in alarm. The rector approached, with profuse expressions of sympathy

and offers of assistance. I wanted no comforting. I had served a hard apprenticeship to life; I had been well

seasoned to trouble. "Thank you, sir," I said. "Look to Mrs. Finch." There was more air in the corridor. I went

A small object attracted my attention, crouched up on one of the window seats. The small object wasJicks.

I suppose the child's instinct must have told her that something had gone wrong. She looked furtively

sideways at me, round her doll: she had grave doubts of my intentions towards her. "Are you going to whack

Jicks?" asked the curious little creature, shrinking into her corner. I sat down by her, and soon recovered my

place in her confidence. She began to chatter again as fast as usual. I listened to her as I could have listened to

no grownup person at that moment. In some mysterious way that I cannot explain, the child comforted me.

Little by little, I learnt what she had wanted with me, when she had attempted to drag me out of the room.

She had seen all that had passed in the bedchamber; and she had run out to take me back with her, and show

me the wonderful sight of Lucilla with the bandage off her eyes. If I had been wise enough to listen to Jicks, I

might have prevented the catastrophe that had happened. I might have met Lucilla in the corridor, and have

It was too late now to regret what had happened. "Jicks has been good," I said, patting my little friend on the

head with a heavy heart. The child listenedconsidered with herself gravelygot off the

windowseatand claimed her reward for being good, with that excellent brevity of speech which so

With those words, she shouldered her doll; and walked off. The last I saw of her, she was descending the

stairs as a workman descends a ladder, on her way to the gardenand from the garden (the first time the gate

was opened) to the hills. If I could have gone out with her light heart, I would have joined Jicks.

I had hardly lost sight of the child, before the door of Lucilla's room opened, and Herr Grosse appeared in the

"Soh!" he muttered with a gesture of relief, "the very womans I was looking for. A nice messfix we are in

now! I must stop with Feench. (I shall end in hating Feench!) Can you put me into a beds for the night?"

I assured him that he could easily sleep at the rectory. In answer to my inquiries after his patient, he gravely

acknowledged that he was anxious about Lucilla. The varying and violent emotions which had shaken her

(acting through her nervous system) might produce results which would imperil the recovery of her sight.

Absolute repose was not simply necessaryit was now the only chance for her. For the next

fourandtwenty hours, he must keep watch over her eyes. At the end of that timeno earlierhe might be

able to say whether the mischief done would be fatal to her sight or not. I asked how she had contrived to get

He shrugged his shoulders. "There are times," he said cynically, "when every womans is a hussy, and every

It appeared, on further explanation, that my poor Lucilla had pleaded so earnestly (after the nurse had left the

room) to be allowed to try her eyes, and had shown such ungovernable disappointment when he persisted in

saying No, that he had yieldednot so much to her entreaties, as to his own conviction that it would be less

dangerous to humour her than to thwart her, with such a sensitive and irritable temperament as hers. He had

first bargained however, on his side, that she should remain in the bedchamber, and be content, for that

time, with using her sight on the objects round her in the room. She had promised all that he askedand he

had been foolish enough to trust to her promise. The bandage once off, she had instantly set every

consideration at defiancehad torn herself out of his hands like a mad creatureand had rushed into the

sittingroom before he could stop her. The rest had followed as a matter of course. Feeble as it was at the

first trial of it, her sense of sight was sufficiently restored to enable her to distinguish objects dimly. Of the

three persons who had offered themselves to view on the righthand side of the door, one (Mrs. Finch) was a

woman; another (Mr. Finch) was a short, greyheaded, elderly man; the third (Nugent), in his heightwhich

she could seeand in the color of his hairwhich she could seewas the only one of the three who could

possibly represent Oscar. The catastrophe that followed was (as things were) inevitable. Now that the harm

was done, the one alternative left was to check the mischief at the point which it had already reached. Not the

slightest hint at the terrible mistake that she had made must be suffered to reach her ears. If we any of us said

one word about it before he authorized us to do so, he would refuse to answer for the consequences, and

So, in his broken English, Herr Grosse explained what had happened, and issued his directions for our future

"No person is to go into her," he said, in conclusion, "but you and goot Mrs. Zillahs. You two watch her,

turnaboutturnabout. In a whiles, she will sleep. For me, I go to smoke my tobaccos in the garden. Hear

this, Madame Pratolungo. When Gott made the womens, he was sorry afterwards for the poor mensand he

Favoring me with this peculiar view of the scheme of creation, Herr Grosse shook his shock head, and

I softly opened the bedroom door, and looked indisappearing just in time to escape the rector and Mrs.

Lucilla was lying on the sofa. She asked who it was in a drowsy voiceshe was happily just sinking into

slumber. Zillah occupied a chair near her. I was not wanted for the momentand I was glad, for the first

time in my experience at Dimchurch, to get out of the room again. By some contradiction in my character

which I am not able to explain, there was a certain hostile influence in the sympathy that I felt for Oscar,

which estranged me, for the moment, from Lucilla. It was not her faultand yet (I am ashamed to own it) I

almost felt angry with her for reposing so comfortably, when I thought of the poor fellow, without a creature

The loneliness of the house was insupportable; my anxiety about Oscar grew more than I could endure. I put

Having no desire to interfere with Herr Grosse's enjoyment of his pipe, I made my way through the garden as

quickly as possible, and found myself in the village again. My uneasiness on the subject of Oscar, was

matched by my angry desire to know what Nugent would do. Now that he had worked the very mischief

which his brother had foreseen to be possiblethe very mischief which it had been Oscar's one object to

prevent in asking him to leave Dimchurchwould he take his departure? would he rid us, at once and for

ever, of the sight of him? The bare idea of the other alternativeI mean, of his remaining in the

placeshook me with such an unutterable dread of what might happen next, that my feet refused to support

me. I was obliged, just beyond the village, to sit down by the roadside, and wait till my giddy head steadied

After a minute or two, I heard footsteps coming along the road. My heart gave one great leap in me. I thought

A moment more brought the person in view. It was only Mr. Gootheridge of the village inn, on his way

The uppermost idea in my mind found its way somehow, ill as I was, to expression on my lipsin the form

I started up, as if I had been struck or shot. Worthy Mr. Gootheridge stared. I wished him goodday, and

went on as fast as my feet would take me, straight to Browndown. Had the brothers met in the house? I turned

cold at the bare thought of itbut I still kept on. There was an obstinate resolution in me to part them, which

served me in place of courage. Account for it as you may, I was bold and frightened both at the same time. At

one moment, I was fool enough to say to myself, "They will kill me." At another, just as foolishly, I found

comfort in the opposite view. "Bah! They are gentlemen; they can't hurt a woman!"

The servant was standing idling at the front door, when I arrived in sight of the house. This, in itself, was

unusual. He was a hardworking welltrained man. On other occasions, nobody had ever seen him out of his

proper place. He advanced a few steps to meet me. I looked at him carefully. Not the slightest appearance of

"I beg your pardon, ma'am. Mr. Oscar is at homebut you can't see him. He and Mr. Nugent are together."

I rested my hand on the low wall in front of the house, and made a desperate effort to put a calm face on it.

"I have Mr. Oscar's orders, ma'am, to wait at the door, and tell everybody who comes to the house (without

The housedoor was half open. I listened intently while the man was speaking. If they had been at high

words together, I must have heard them in the silence of the lonely hills all round us. I heard nothing.

It was strange, it was inconceivable. At the same time it relieved me. There they were together, and no harm

I left my cardand walked on a little, past the corner of the house wall. As soon as I was out of the servant's

sight, I turned back to the side of the building, and ventured as near as I durst to the window of the

sittingroom. Their voices reached me, but not their words. On both sides, the tones were low and

confidential. Not a note of anger in either voicelisten for it as I might! I left the house again, breathless

with amazement, and (so rapidly does a woman shift from one emotion to another) burning with curiosity.

After half an hour of aimless wandering in the valley, I returned to the rectory.

Lucilla was still sleeping. I took Zillah's place, and sent her into the kitchen. The landlady of the inn was

there to help us with the dinner. But she was hardly equal, singlehanded, to the superintendence of such

dishes as we had to set before Herr Grosse. It was high time I relieved Zillah if we were to pass successfully

through the ordeal of the great surgeon's criticism, as reviewer of all the sauces.

An hour more passed before Lucilla woke. I sent a messenger to Grosse, who appeared enveloped in a halo of

tobacco, examined the patient's eyes, felt her pulse, ordered her wine and jelly, filled his monstrous pipe, and

The day wore on. Mr. Finch came to make inquiries, and then went back to his wifewhom he described as

"hysterically irresponsible," and in imminent need of another warm bath. He declined, in his most pathetic

manner, to meet the German at dinner. "After what I have suffered, after what I have seen, these

banquetingsI would say, these ticklings of the palateare not to my taste. You mean well, Madame

Pratolungo. (Good creature!) But I am not in heart for feasting. Simple fare, by my wife's couch; a few

consoling words, in the character of pastor and husband, when the infant is quiet. So my day is laid out. I

At the sight of the tablecloth, Herr Grosse's good humour returned. We two dined together alonethe

German sending in selections of his own making from the dishes to Lucilla's room. So far, he said, she had

escaped any serious injury. But he still insisted on keeping his patient perfectly quiet, and he refused to

answer for anything until the night had passed. As for me, Oscar's continued silence weighed more and more

heavily on my spirits. My past suspense in the darkened room with Lucilla seemed to be a mere trifle by

comparison with the keener anxieties which I suffered now. I saw Grosse's eyes glaring discontentedly at me

through his spectacles. He had good reason to look at me as he didI had never before been so stupid and so

Towards the end of the dinner, there came news from Browndown at last. The servant sent in a message by

The instant I saw the servant's face, my heart sank. Oscar's kindness had attached the man devotedly to his

master. I saw his lips tremble, and his color come and go, when I looked at him.

I VAINLY believed I had prepared myself for any misfortune that could fall on us. The man's last words

dispelled my delusion. My gloomiest forebodings had never contemplated such a disaster as had now

happened. I stood petrified, thinking of Lucilla, and looking helplessly at the servant. Try as I might, I was

He felt no such difficulty on his side. One of the strangest peculiarities in the humbler ranks of the English

people, is the sort of solemn relish which they have for talking of their own misfortunes. To be the objects of

a calamity of any kind, seems to raise them in their own estimations. With a dreary enjoyment of his

miserable theme, the servant expatiated on his position as a man deprived of the best of masters; turned adrift

again in the world to seek another service; hopeless of ever again finding himself in such a situation as he had

lost. He roused me at last into speaking to him, by sheer dint of irritating my nerves until I could endure him

(What had become of Nugent? I was too much interested in Oscar to be able to put the question, at that

"I had Mr. Oscar's orders not to tell you, ma'am, till this time in the evening."

Wretched as I was already, my spirits sank lower still when I heard that. The order given to the servant

looked like a premeditated design, not only to leave Dimchurch, but also to keep us in ignorance of his

"He hired Gootheridge's chaise, ma'am, to take him to Brighton. And he told me with his own lips that he had

He had left Browndown, never to come back! For Lucilla's sake, I declined to believe that. The servant was

exaggerating, or the servant had misunderstood what had been said to him. The letter in my hand reminded

me that I had perhaps needlessly questioned him on matters which his master had confided to my own

knowledge only. Before I dismissed him for the night, I made my deferred inquiry on the hateful subject of

"I don't know, ma'am, for certain. I see no signs of his meaning to leave; and he has said nothing to that

I had the greatest difficulty to keep myself from breaking out before the servant. My indignation almost

choked me. The best way was to wish him good night. I took the best wayonly calling him back (as a

"Say nothing, about it then, as you go out. Thank you for bringing me the letter. Good night."

Having thus provided against any whisper of what had happened reaching Lucilla's ears that evening, I

returned to Herr Grosse to make my excuses, and to tell him (as I honestly could) that I was in sore need of

being permitted to retire privately to my own room. I found my illustrious guest putting a plate over the final

dish of the dinner, full of the tenderest anxiety to keep it warm on my account.

"Here is a lofely cheeseomelets," said Grosse. "Twothirds of him I have eaten my own self. The odder

third I sweat with anxiety to keep warm for you. Sit down! sit down! Every moment he is getting cold."

"Ach, Gott! don't tell it to me!" the wretch burst out with a look of consternation. "No miserable news, I pray

you, after such a dinner as I have eaten. Let me do my digestions! My gootdearcreature, if you lofe me let

"Will you excuse me, if I leave you to your digestion, and retire to my own room?"

"Yes! yes! From the deep bottoms of my heart I excuse you. Goot Madame Pratolungo, retire! retire!"

I had barely passed the threshold, before the door was closed behind me. I heard the selfish old brute rub his

hands, and chuckle over his success in shutting me and my sorrow both out of the room together.

Just as my hand was on my own door, it occurred to me that I should do well to make sure of not being

surprised by Lucilla over the reading of Oscar's letter. The truth is that I shrank from reading it. In spite of my

resolution to disbelieve the servant, the dread was now growing on me that the letter would confirm his

statement, and would force it on me as the truth that Oscar had left us never to return. I retraced my steps, and

I could just see her, by the dim nightlight burning in a cornet to enable the surgeon or the nurse to find their

way to her. She was alone in her favorite little wickerwork chair, with the doleful white bandage over her

"Yes! I couldn't enjoy myself thoroughly tonight, unless I felt that I was quite alone. I have seen him, my

dearI have seen him! How could you possibly think I felt lonely? I am so inordinately happy that I am

obliged to knit to keep myself quiet. If you say much more, I shall get up and danceI know I shall! Where

is Oscar? That odious Grosseno! it is too bad to talk of the dear old man in that way, after he has given me

back my sight. Still it is cruel of him to say that I am overexcited, and to forbid Oscar to come and see me

tonight. Is Oscar with you, in the next room? Is he very much disappointed at being parted from me in this

"No? then he is at Browndown of course with that poor wretched disfigured brother of his. I have got over

my terror of Nugent's hideous face. I am even beginning (though I never liked him, as you know) to pity him,

with such a dreadful complexion as that. Don't let us talk about it! Don't let us talk at all! I want to go on

She resumed her knitting, and shut herself up luxuriously in her own happy thoughts. Knowing what I knew,

it was nothing less than heartbreaking to see her and hear her. Afraid to trust myself to say another word, I

softly closed the door, and charged Zillah (when her mistress rang her bell) to say for me that I was weary

At last, I was alone. At last I was at the end of my maneuvers to spare myself the miserable necessity of

opening Oscar's letter. After first locking my door, I broke the seal, and read the lines which follow.

"KIND AND DEAR FRIEND,Forgive me: I am going to surprise and distress you. My letter thanks you

"Summon all your indulgence for me. Read these lines to the end: they will tell you what happened after I left

"Nothing had been seen of Nugent, when I reached this house. It was not till a quarter of an hour later that I

heard his voice at the door, calling to me, and asking if I had come back. I answered, and he joined me in the

"I can give you no idea of the tone in which he spoke to me: it would have gone straight to your heart, as it

went straight to mine. For the moment, I was not able to answer him. I could only offer him my hand. He

" 'I have something still to tell you,' he said. 'Wait till you have heard it; and give me your hand

"He even refused to take the chair to which I pointed. He distressed me by standing in my presence as if he

"No! I have need of all my calmness and all my courage. It shakes both to recall what he said to me. I sat

down to write this, intending to repeat to you everything that passed between us. Another of my weaknesses!

another of my failures! The tears come into my eyes again, when my mind attempts to dwell on the details. I

can only tell you the result. My brother's confession may be summed up in three words. Prepare yourself to

"Think of this discovery falling on me, after I had seen my innocent Lucilla's arms round his neckafter my

own eyes had shown me how she rejoiced over her first sight of him; how she shuddered at her first sight of

"Nugent held out his hand, when he had doneas I had held out mine before he began.

" 'The one atonement I can make to you and to her,' he said, 'is never to let either of you set eyes on me again.

"If I had willed it soso it might have ended. I willed it differently. It has ended differently. Can you guess

I laid down the letter for a moment. It cut me with such keen regret; it fired me with such hot ragethat I

was within a hairsbreadth of tearing the rest of it up unread, and trampling it under my feet. I took a turn in

the room. I dipped my handkerchief in water, and bound it round my head. In a minute or two I was myself

againI could force my mind away from my poor Lucilla, and return to the letter. It proceeded thus:

"I can write calmly of what I have next to tell you. You shall hear what I have decided, and what I have done.

"I told Nugent to wait in the room, while I went away, and thought over what he had said to me, by myself.

He attempted to resist this. I insisted on his yielding. For the first time in our lives, we changed places. It was

I who took the lead, and he who followed. I left him and went out into the valley alone.

"The heavenly tranquillity, the comforting solitude helped me. I saw my position and his, in their true light.

Before I got back, I had decided (cost me what it might) on myself making the sacrifice to which my brother

had offered to submit. For Lucilla's sake, and for Nugent's sake, I felt the certain assurance in my own mind

"Don't blame me; don't grieve for me. Read the rest. I want you to think of this with my thoughtsto feel

"Bearing in mind what Nugent has confessed, and what I have myself seen, have I any right to hold Lucilla to

her engagement? I am firmly persuaded that I have no right. After inspiring her with terror and disgust at the

moment when her eyes first looked at me; after seeing her innocently happy in Nugent's armshow, in

God's name, can I claim her as mine? Our marriage has become an impossibility. For her own sake, I cannot,

I dare not, appeal to our engagement. The wreck of my happiness is nothing. The wreck of her happiness

"As to Nugent next. I owe it entirely to my brother (at the time of the Trial) that the honor of our family has

been saved, and that I have escaped a shameful death on the scaffold. Is there any limit to the obligation that

he has laid on me, after doing me such a service as this? There is no limit. The man who loves Lucilla and the

brother who has saved my life are one. I am bound to leave him freeI do leave him freeto win Lucilla by

open and loyal means, if he can. As soon as Herr Grosse considers that she is fit to bear the disclosure, let her

be told of the error into which she has fallen (through my fault)let her read these lines, purposely written to

meet her eye as well as yoursand let my brother tell her afterwards what has passed tonight in this house

between himself and me. She loves him now, believing him to be Oscar. Will she love him still, after she has

learnt to know him under his own name? The answer to that question rests with Time. If it is an answer in

Nugent's favor, I have already arranged to set aside from my income a sufficient yearly sum to place my

brother in a position to begin his married life. I wish to leave his genius free to assert itself, untrammeled by

pecuniary cares. Possessing, as I do, far more than enough for my own simple wants, I can dedicate my spare

"What I have decided on you now know. What I have done can be told in two words. I have left Browndown

for ever. I have gone, to live or die (as God pleases) under the blow that has fallen on me, far away from you

"Perhaps, when years have passed, and when their children are growing up round them, I may see Lucilla

again, and may take as the hand of my sister, the hand of the beloved woman who might once have been my

wife. This may happen, if I live. If I die, you will none of you know it. My death shall not cast its shadow of

sadness on their lives. Forgive me and forget me; and keep, as I keep, that first and noblest of all mortal

"I enclose, when there is need for you to write to me, the address of my bankers in London. They will have

their instructions. If you love me, if you pity me, abstain from attempting to shake my resolution. You may

distress mebut you will never change me. Wait to write, until Nugent has had the opportunity of pleading

"Once more, I thank you for the kindness which has borne with my weaknesses and my follies. God bless

Of the effect which the first reading of this letter produced on me, I shall say nothing. Even at this distance of

time, I shrink from reviving the memory of what I suffered, alone in my room on that miserable night. Let it

I determined on doing two things. First, on going to London by the earliest train the next morning, and

finding my way to Oscar by means of his bankers. Secondly, on preventing the villain who had accepted the

The one comfort I had, that night, was in feeling that, on these two points, my mind was made up. There was

a stimulant in my sense of my own resolution which strengthened me to make my excuses to Lucilla, without

betraying the grief that tortured me when I found myself in her presence again. Before I went to my bed, I

had left her quiet and happy; I had arranged with Herr Grosse that he was still to keep his excitable patient

secluded from visitors all through the next day; and I had secured as an ally to help me in preventing Nugent

from entering the house, no less a person than Reverend Finch himself. I saw him in his study overnight, and

told him all that had happened; keeping one circumstance only concealednamely, Oscar's insane

determination to share his fortune with his infamous brother. I purposely led the rector to suppose that Oscar

had left Lucilla free to receive the addresses of a man who had dissipated his fortune to the last farthing. Mr.

Finch's harangue when this prospect was brought within his range of contemplation, was something to be

By the train of the same evening, I returned alone to Dimchurch; having completely failed to achieve the

Oscar had appeared at the bank as soon as the doors were opened in the morning; had drawn out some

hundreds of pounds in circular notes; had told the bankers that they should be furnished with an address at

which they could write to him, in due course of time; and had departed for the Continent, without leaving a

I spent the day in making what arrangements I could for discovering him by the usual methods of inquiry

pursued in such cases; and took the return train to the country, with my mind alternating between despair

when I thought of Lucilla, and anger when I thought of the twinbrothers. In the first bitterness of my

disappointment, I was quite as indignant with Oscar as with Nugent. With all my heart I cursed the day which

As we lengthened our distance from London, flying smoothly the tranquil woods and fields, my mind, with

time to help it, began to recover its balance. Little by little, the unexpected revelation of firmness and

decision in Oscar's conductheartily as I still deplored and blamed that conductbegan to have a new

effect on my mind. I now looked back in amazement and selfreproach, at my own superficial estimate of the

Thinking it over uninterruptedly, with no one in the carriage but myself, I arrived at a conclusion which

strongly influenced my conduct in guiding Lucilla through the troubles and perils that were still to come.

Our physical constitutions have, as I take it, more to do with the actions which determine other people's

opinions of us (as well as with the course of our own lives) than we generally suppose. A man with

delicatelystrung nerves says and does things which often lead us to think more meanly of him than he

deserves. It is his great misfortune constantly to present himself at his worst. On the other hand, a man

provided with nerves vigorously constituted, is provided also with a constitutional health and hardihood

which express themselves brightly in his manners, and which lead to a mistaken impression that his nature is

what it appears to be on the surface. Having good health, he has good spirits. Having good spirits, he wins as

an agreeable companion on the persons with whom he comes in contactalthough he may be hiding all the

while, under an outer covering which is physically wholesome, an inner nature which is morally diseased. In

the last of these typical men, I saw reflectedNugent. In the firstOscar. All that was feeblest and poorest

in Oscar's nature had shown itself on the surface in past times, to the concealment of its stronger and its

nobler side. There had been something hidden in this supersensitive man, who had shrunk under all the small

trials of his life in our village, which had proved firm enough, when the greatness of the need called on it, to

sustain the terrible disaster that had fallen on him. The nearer I got to the end of my journey, the more certain

I felt that I was only now learning (bitterly as he had disappointed me) to estimate Oscar's character at its true

value. Inspired by this conviction, I began already to face our hopeless prospects boldly. As long as I had life

and strength to help her, I determined that Lucilla should not lose the man, whose best qualities I had failed to

When I reached the rectory, I was informed that Mr. Finch wished to speak to me. My anxiety about Lucilla

made me unwilling to submit to any delay in seeing her. I sent a message, informing the rector that I would

"Has it been a very long day, my dear?" I asked, when our first greetings were over.

"It has been a delightful day," she answered joyously. "Grosse took me out for a walk, before he went back to

A chilly sense of misgiving seized me. I drew back from her. I looked at her lovely face without the slightest

An exclamation escaped me("Infamous Grosse!" spit out between my teeth in my own language). I could

Lucilla laughed. "There! there! It was my fault; I insisted on speaking to Oscar. As soon as I had my own

way, I behaved perfectly. I never asked to have the bandage taken off; I was satisfied with only speaking to

him. Dear old Grossehe isn't half as hard on me as you and my fatherwas with us, all the time. It has

done me so much good. Don't be sulky about it, you darling Pratolungo! My 'surgeon optic' sanctions my

imprudence. I won't ask you to go with me to Browndown tomorrow; Oscar is coming to return my visit."

Those last words decided me. I had had a weary time of it since the morning; but (for me) the day was not at

an end yet. I said to myself, "I will have it out with Mr. Nugent Dubourg, before I go to my bed tonight!"

"Can you spare me for a little while?" I asked. "I must go to the other side of the house. Your father wishes to

"About business in London," I answeredand left her, before her curiosity could madden me (in the state I

I found the rector prepared to favor me with his usual flow of language. Fifty Mr. Finches could not have

possessed themselves of my attention in the humour I was in at that moment. To the reverend gentleman's

"Wait a minute, Madame Pratolungo! One thing is of the utmost importance to begin with. Do you

"Thoroughly," I interposed. "Of course, they would not have gone to Browndown, if you had consented to let

"Stop!" said Mr. Finch, elevating his right hand. "My good creature, you are in a state of hysterical

precipitation. I will be heard! I did more than refuse my consent. When the man GrosseI insist on your

composing yourselfwhen the man Grosse came and spoke to me about it, I did more, I say, infinitely more,

than refuse my consent. You know my force of languagedon't be alarmed! I said, 'Sir! As pastor and

"I understand, Mr. Finch. Whatever you said to Herr Grosse was quite useless; he entirely ignored your

"He found Lucilla dangerously agitated by her separation from Oscar: he asserted, what he calls, his

"You persisted in closing your doors to Nugent Dubourg. He persisted, on his sideand took Lucilla to

Mr. Finch got on his feet, and asserted himself at the full pitch of his tremendous voice.

I didn't care. I shouted. I came down, with a smack of my hand, on the opposite side of the table.

"One question, sir, before I leave you," I said. "Since your daughter went to Browndown, you have had many

The Pope of Dimchurch suddenly collapsed, in full fulmination of his domestic Bulls.

"Pardon me," he replied, adopting his most elaborately polite manner. "This requires considerable

I declined to wait for considerable explanation. "You have not seen him?" I said.

"I have not seen him," echoed Mr. Finch. "My position towards Nugent Dubourg is very remarkable,

Madame Pratolungo. In my parental character, I should like to wring his neck. In my clerical character, I feel

it incumbent on me to pauseand write to him. You feel the responsibility? You understand the distinction?"

I understood that he was afraid. Answering him by an inclination of the head (I hate a coward!) I walked

Mr. Finch returned my bow with a look of helpless perplexity. "Are you going to leave me?" he inquired

If I had said that I was going to a place which the rector had frequent occasion to mention in the stronger

passages of his sermons, Mr. Finch's face could hardly have shown more astonishment and alarm than it

exhibited when I replied to him in those terms. He lifted his persuasive right hand; he opened his eloquent

lips. Before the coming overflow of language could reach me, I was out of the room, on my way to

OSCAR'S dismissed servant (left, during the usual month of warning, to take care of the house) opened the

door to me when I knocked. Although the hour was already a late one in primitive Dimchurch, the man

"Yes, ma'am." He lowered his voice, and added, "I think Mr. Nugent expected to see you tonight."

Whether he intended it, or not, the servant had done me a good turnhe had put me on my guard. Nugent

Dubourg understood my character better than I had understood his. He had foreseen what would happen,

when I heard of Lucilla's visit on my return to the rectoryand he had, no doubt, prepared himself

accordingly. I was conscious of a certain nervous trembling (I own) as I followed the servant to the

sittingroom. At the moment, however, when he opened the door, this ignoble sensation left me as suddenly

as it had come. I felt myself Pratolungo's widow again, when I entered the room.

A readinglamp, with its shade down, was the only light on the table. Nugent Dubourg, comfortably reposing

in an easychair, sat by the lamp, with a cigar in his mouth, and a book in his hand. He put down the book on

the table as he rose to receive me. Knowing, by this time, what sort of man I had to deal with, I was

determined not to let even the merest trifles escape me. It might have its use in helping me to understand him,

if I knew how he had been occupying his mind while he was expecting me to arrive. I looked at the book. It

He advanced with his pleasant smile, and offered his hand as if nothing had happened to disturb our ordinary

"When you do know, Mr. Nugent Dubourg, and when you have brought your brother back to this house, I

He bowed resignedly, with a little satirical shrug of the shoulders, and asked if he might offer me a chair.

I took a chair for myself, and placed it so that I might be opposite to him when he resumed his seat. He

"Thank you." He took his chairkeeping his face in the partial obscurity cast by the shade of the lamp. After

smoking for a moment, he spoke again, without turning to look at me. "May I ask what your object is in

"I have two objects. The first is to see that you leave Dimchurch tomorrow morning. The second is to make

He looked round at me quickly. His experience of my irritable temper had not prepared him for the perfect

composure of voice and manner with which I answered his question. He looked back again from me to his

cigar, and knocked off the ash at the tip of it (considering with himself) before he addressed his next words to

"We will come to the question of my leaving Dimchurch presently," he said. "Have you received a letter from

"I know that your brother has sacrificed himselfand that you have taken a base advantage of the sacrifice."

He started, and looked round at me once more. I saw that something in my language, or in my tone of

"You have your privilege as a lady," he said. "Don't push it too far. What Oscar has done, he has done of his

"What Oscar has done," I rejoined, "is lamentably foolish, cruelly wrong. Still, perverted as it is, there is

something generous, something noble, in the motive which has led him. As for your conduct in this matter, I

see nothing but what is mean, nothing but what is cowardly, in the motive which has led you."

"Madame Pratolungo," he said, "I have not the honor of knowing anything of your family. I can't call a

woman to account for insulting me. Do you happen to have any man related to you, in or out of England?"

"I happen to have what will do equally well on this occasion," I replied. "I have a hearty contempt for threats

"I decline to give you the opportunity of saying anything more," he rejoined. "I beg to leave you in

He opened the door. I had entered the house, armed in my own mind with a last desperate resolve, only to be

communicated to him, or to anybody, in the final emergency and at the eleventh hour. The time had come for

"Return to your chair and your book," I said. "Our interview is at an end. In leaving the house, I have one last

"Pardon me, you are not in a position to judge at all. You don't know what I mean to do as soon as I get back

He instantly changed his position; placing himself in the doorway so as to prevent me from leaving the room.

He laughed insolently. I went on as quietly as before. "You have personated your brother to Lucilla this

"I can control you through Lucilla. When I get back to the rectory, I can, and will, tell Lucilla the truth."

"You forget something, Madame Pratolungo. You forget what the surgeon in attendance on her has told us."

"I remember it perfectly. If we say or do anything to agitate his patient, in her present state, the surgeon

"Wellbetween the alternative of leaving you free to break both their hearts, and the alternative of setting

the surgeon's warning at defiancedreadful as the choice is, my choice is made. I tell you to your face, I

His estimate of the strength of the position on his side, had been necessarily based on one convictionthe

conviction that Grosse's professional authority would tie my tongue. I had scattered his calculations to the

winds. He turned so deadly pale that, dim as the light was, I could see the change in his face.

"Present yourself at the rectory tomorrow," I answered"and you will see. I have no more to say to you. Let

You may suppose I was only trying to frighten him. I was doing nothing of the sort. Blame me, or approve of

me, as you please, I was expressing the resolution which I had in my mind when I spoke. Whether my

courage would have held out through the walk from Browndown to the rectorywhether I should have

shrunk from it when I actually found myself in Lucilla's presenceis more than I can venture to decide. All I

say is that I did, in my desperation, positively mean doing it, at the moment when I threatened to do itand

that Nugent Dubourg heard something in my voice which told him I was in earnest.

The whole passionate fervour of the love that the miserable wretch felt for her, shook him from head to foot,

"Spare me your opinion of my character," I said. "I don't expect you to understand the motives of an honest

Instead of letting me by, he locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. That done, he pointed to the chair

"Sit down," he said, with a sudden sinking in his voice which implied a sudden change in his temper. "Let me

I returned to my place. He took his own chair on the other side of the table, and covered his face with his

hands. We waited awhile in silence. I looked at him, once or twice, as the minutes followed each other. The

shaded lamplight glistened dimly on something between his fingers. I rose softly, and stretched across the

table to look closer. Tears! On my word of honor, tears forcing their way through his fingers, as he held them

over his face! I had been on the point of speaking. I sat down again in silence.

"Say what you want of me. Tell me what you wish me to do." Those were his first words. He spoke them

without moving his hands; so quietly, so sadly, with such hopeless sorrow, such uncomplaining resignation in

his voice, that I, who had entered that room, hating him, rose again, and went round to his chair. Iwho a

minute ago, if I had had the strength, would have struck him down on the floor at my feetlaid my hand on

his shoulder, pitying him from the bottom of my heart. That is what women are! There is a specimen of their

"Be just, Nugent," I said. "Be honorable. Be all that I once thought you. I want no more."

He dropped his arms on the table: his head fell on them, and he burst into a fit of crying. It was so like his

brother, that I could almost have fancied I, too, had mistaken one of them for the other. "Oscar over again," I

"Come!" I said, when he was quieter. We shall end in understanding each other and respecting each other

He irritably shook my hand off his shoulder, and turned his face away from the light.

"Don't talk of understanding me," he said. "Your sympathy is for Oscar. He is the victim; he is the martyr; he

has all your consideration and all your pity. I am a coward; I am a villain; I have no honor and no heart. Tread

Me under foot like a reptile. My misery is only what I deserve! Compassion is thrown awayisn't it?on

I was sorely puzzled how to answer him. All that he had said against himself, I had thought of him in my own

mind. And why not? He had behaved infamouslyhe was a fit object for righteous indignation. And

yetand yetit is sometimes so very hard, however badly a man may have behaved, for women to hold out

"Whatever I may have thought of you," I said, "it is still in your power, Nugent, to win back my old regard

"Is it?" he answered scornfully. "I know better than that. You are not talking to Oscar nowyou are talking

to a man who has had some experience of women. I know how you all hold to your opinions because they are

your opinionswithout asking yourselves whether they are right or wrong. There are men who could

understand me and pity me. No woman can do it. The best and cleverest among you don't know what love

isas a man feels it. It isn't the frenzy with You that it is with Us. It acknowledges restraints in a womanit

bursts through everything in a man. It robs him of his intelligence, his honor, his selfrespectit levels him

with the brutesit debases him into idiocyit lashes him into madness. I tell you I am not accountable for

my own actions. The kindest thing you could do for me would be to shut me up in a madhouse. The best

thing I could do for myself would be to cut my throat.Oh, yes! this is a shocking way of talking, isn't it? I

ought to struggle against itas you say. I ought to summon my selfcontrol. Ha! ha! ha! Here is a clever

womanhere is an experienced woman. And yetthough she has seen me in Lucilla's company hundreds

of timesshe has never once discovered the signs of a struggle in me! From the moment when I first saw

that heavenly creature, it has been one long fight against myself, one infernal torment of shame and remorse;

and this clever friend of mine has observed so little and knows so little, that she can only view my conduct in

He got up, and took a turn in the room. I wasnaturally, I thinka little irritated by his way of putting it. A

man assuming to know more about love than a woman! Was there ever such a monstrous perversion of the

"You ought to be the last person to blame me," I said. "I had too high an opinion of you to suspect what was

"Do you really mean to say you saw nothing to set you thinking, on the day when I first met her?" he asked.

"You were there in the roomdidn't you see that she struck me dumb? Did you notice nothing suspicious at

a later time? When I was suffering martyrdom, if I only looked at herwas there nothing to be seen in me

"I noticed that you were never at your ease with her," I replied. "But I liked you and trusted youand I failed

"Did you fail to understand everything that followed? Didn't I speak to her father? Didn't I try to hasten

"When we first talked of his telling Lucilla of the discoloration of his face, did I not agree with you that he

"When she all but found it out for herself, whose influence was used to make him own it? Mine! What did I

do, when he tried to confess it, and failed to make her understand him? what did I do when she first

The audacity of that last question fairly took away my breath. "You cruelly helped to deceive her," I

answered indignantly. "You basely encouraged your brother in his fatal policy of silence."

He looked at me with an angry amazement on his side which more than equaled the angry amazement on

"So much for the delicate perception of a woman!" he exclaimed. "So much for the wonderful tact which is

the peculiar gift of the sex! You can see no motive but a bad motive in my sacrificing myself for Oscar's

I began to discern faintly that there might have been another than a bad motive for his conduct. Butwell! I

dare say I was wrong; I resented the tone he was taking with me; I would have owned I had made a mistake

"Look back for one moment," he resumed, in quieter and gentler tones. "See how hardly you have judged me!

I seized the opportunityI swear to you this is trueI seized the opportunity of making myself an object of

horror to her, the moment I heard of the mistake that she had made. I felt in myself that I was growing less

and less capable of avoiding her, and I caught at the chance of making her avoid me; I did thatand I did

more! I entreated Oscar to let me leave Dimchurch. He appealed to me, in the name of our love for each

other, to remain. I couldn't resist him. Where do you see signs of the conduct of a scoundrel in all this?

Would a scoundrel have betrayed himself to you a dozen times overas I did in that talk of ours in the

summerhouse? I remember saying in so many words, I wished I had never come to Dimchurch. What

reason but one could there be for my saying that? How is it that you never even asked me what I meant?"

"You forget," I interposed, "that I had no opportunity of asking you. Lucilla interrupted us, and diverted my

attention to other things. What do you mean by putting me on my defence in this way?" I went on, more and

more irritated by the tone he was taking with me. "What right have you to judge my conduct?"

"Perhaps I was thinking, if you had seen my infatuation in time you might have checked it in time. No!" he

exclaimed, before I could answer him. "Nothing could have checked itnothing will cure it but my death.

Let us try to agree. I beg your pardon if I have offended you. I am willing to take a just view of your conduct.

I tried hard to take a just view. Though I resented his manner of speaking to me, I nevertheless secretly felt

for him, as I have confessed. Still I could not forget that he had attempted to attract to himself Lucilla's first

look, on the day when she tried her sightthat he had personated his brother to Lucilla that very

morningthat he had suffered his brother to go away heartbroken, a voluntary exile from all that he held

dear. No! I could feel for him, but I could not take a just view of him. I sat down, and said nothing.

He returned to the question between us; treating me with the needful politeness, when he spoke next. For all

"I repeat what I have already told you," he proceeded. "I am no longer accountable for what I do. If I know

anything of myself, I believe it will be useless to trust me in the future. While I am capable of speaking the

truth, let me tell it. Whatever happens at a later timeremember this, I have honestly made a clean breast of

"Stop!" I cried. "I don't understand your reckless way of talking. Every man is accountable for what he does."

"Keep your opinion; I don't dispute it. You will see; you will see.Madame Pratolungo, the day when we

had that private talk of ours in the rectory summerhouse, marks a memorable date in my calendar. My last

honest struggle to be true to my poor Oscar ended with that day. The efforts I have made since then have

been little better than mere outbreaks of despair. They have done nothing to help me against the passion that

has become the one feeling and the one misery of my life. Don't talk of resistance. All resistance stops at a

certain point. Since the time I have told you of, my resistance has reached its limits. You have heard how I

struggled against temptation, as long as I could resist it. I have only to tell you how I have yielded to it now."

The reckless, shameless composure with which he said that, began to set me against him once more. The

perpetual shifts and contradictions in him, bewildered and irritated me. Quicksilver itself seemed to be less

"Do you remember the day," he asked, "when Lucilla lost her temper, and received you so rudely at your visit

"You spoke, a little while since, of my personating Oscar to her. I personated him, on the occasion I have just

mentioned, for the first time. You were present and heard me. Did you care to speculate on the motives which

"As well as I can remember," I answered, "I made the first guess that occurred to me. I thought you were

"I was indulging the passion that consumed me! I longed to feel the luxury of her touching me and being

familiar with me, under the impression that I was Oscar. Worse even than that, I wanted to try how

completely I could impose on herhow easily I might marry her, if I could only deceive you all, and take

her away somewhere by herself. The devil was in possession of me. I don't know how it might have ended, if

Oscar had not come in, and if Lucilla had not burst out as she did. She distressed meshe frightened

meshe gave me back again to my better self. I rushed, without stopping to prepare her, into the question of

her restoration to sightas the only way of diverting her mind from the vile advantage that I had taken of her

blindness. That night, Madame Pratolungo, I suffered pangs of selfreproach and remorse which would even

have satisfied you. At the very next opportunity that offered, I made my atonement to Oscar. I supported his

"When the two surgeons had left us. In Lucilla's sittingroom. In the heat of the discussion whether she

should submit to the operation at onceor whether she should marry Oscar first, and let Grosse try his

experiment on her eyes at a later time. If you recall our conversation, you will remember that I did all I could

to persuade Lucilla to marry my brother before Grosse tried his experiment on her sight. Quite useless! You

threw all the weight of your influence into the opposite side of the scale. I failed. It made no difference. I had

done what I had done in sheer despair: mere impulseit didn't last. When the next temptation tried me, I

"Very wellas you think, then. Did you suspect me at lastwhen we met in the village, yesterday? Surely,

I answered silently, by an inclination of my head. I had no wish to drift into another quarrel. Sorely as he was

presuming on my endurance, I tried, in Lucilla's interests, to keep on friendly terms with him.

"You concealed it wonderfully well," he went on, "when I tried to find out whether you had, or had not

discovered me. You virtuous people are not bad hands at deception, when it suits your interests to deceive. I

needn't tell you what my temptation was yesterday. The first look of her eyes when they opened on the world;

the first light of love and joy breaking on her heavenly facewhat madness to expect me to let that look fall

on another man, that light show itself to other eyes! No living being, adoring her as I adored her, would have

acted otherwise than I did. I could have fallen down on my knees and worshipped Grosse, when he

innocently proposed to me to take the very place in the room which I was determined to occupy. You saw

what I had in my mind! You did your bestand did it admirablyto defeat me. Oh, you pattern

peopleyou can be as shifty with your resources, when a cunning trick is to be played, as the worst of us!

You saw how it ended. Fortune stood my friend at the eleventh hour; fortune can shine, like the sun, on the

just and the unjust! I had the first look of her eyes! I felt the first light of love and joy in her face falling on

"I don't wonder at it," he answered. "You may well be ashamed of me. I am ashamed of myself."

There was nothing cynical in his tone, nothing insolent in his manner. The same man who had just gloried in

that abominable way, in his victory over innocence and misfortune, now spoke and looked like a man who

was honestly ashamed of himself. If I could only have felt convinced that he was mocking me, or playing the

hypocrite with me, I should have known what to do. But I say againimpossible as it seemshe was,

beyond all doubt, genuinely penitent for what he had said, the instant after he had said it! With all my

experience of humanity, and all my practice in dealing with strange characters, I stopped midway between

He took the key of the door out of his pocket, and put it on the tableclose to the chair from which I had just

"I lose my head when I talk of her, or think of her," he went on. "I would give everything I possess not to

have said what I said just now. No language you can use is too strong to condemn it. The words burst out of

me: if Lucilla herself had been present, I couldn't have controlled them. Go, if you like. I have no right to

keep you here, after behaving as I have done. There is the key, at your service. Only think first, before you

leave me. You had something to propose when you came in. You might influence meyou might shame me

Which was I, a good Christian? or a contemptible fool? I went back once more to my chair, and determined

"That's kind," he said. "You encourage me; you show me that I am worth trying again. I had a generous

impulse in this room, yesterday. It might have been something better than an impulseif I had not had

"Oscar's letter has told you: Oscar himself put the temptation in my way. You must have seen it."

"Doesn't he tell you that I offered to leave Dimchurch for ever? I meant it. I saw the misery in the poor

fellow's face, when Grosse and I were leading Lucilla out of the room. With my whole heart, I meant it. If he

had taken my hand, and had said Goodbye, I should have gone. He wouldn't take my hand. He insisted on

thinking it over by himself. He came back, resolved to make the sacrifice, on his side"

"Yes! What else can you call itwhen he offered to leave me free to plead my own cause with Lucilla?

What else can you call itwhen he showed me a future life, which was a life with Lucilla? Poor, dear,

generous fellow, he tempted me to stay when he ought to have encouraged me to go. How could I resist him?

I looked at the book on the tablethe book that he had been reading when I entered the room. These

sophistical confidences of his were nothing but Rousseau at second hand. Good! If he talked false Rousseau,

nothing was left for me but to talk genuine Pratolungo. I let myself goI was just in the humour for it.

"How can a clever man like you impose on yourself in that way?" I said. "Your future with Lucilla? You have

no future with Lucilla which is not shocking to think of. Supposeyou shall never do it, as long as I

livesuppose you married her? Good heavens, what a miserable life it would be for both of you! You love

your brother. Do you think you could ever really know a moment's peace, with one reflection perpetually

forcing itself on your mind? 'I have cheated Oscar out of the woman whom he loved; I have wasted his life; I

have broken his heart.' You couldn't look at her, you couldn't speak to her, you couldn't touch her, without

feeling it all embittered by that horrible reproach. And she? What sort of wife would she make you, when she

knew how you had got her? I don't know which of the two she would hate mostyou or herself. Not a man

would pass her in the street, who would not rouse the thought in her'I wonder whether he has ever done

anything as base as what my husband has done.' Not a married woman of her acquaintance, but would make

her sick at heart with envy and regret. 'Whatever faults he may have, your husband hasn't won you as my

husband won me.' You happy? Your married life endurable? Come! I have saved a few pounds, since I have

been with Lucilla. I will lay you every farthing I possess, you two would be separated by mutual consent

before you had been six months man and wife. Now, which will you do? Will you start for the Continent, or

stay here? Will you bring Oscar back, like an honorable man? or let him go, and disgrace yourself for ever?"

His eyes sparkled; his color rose. He sprang to his feet, and unlocked the door. What was he going to do? To

"Make the house fast when Madame Pratolungo and I have left it. I am not coming back again."

"You refused to take my hand when you came in," he said. "Will you take it now? I leave Browndown when

"Both hands!" I exclaimedand took him by both hands. I could say nothing more. I could only wonder

whether I was waking or sleeping; fit to be put into an asylum, or fit to go at large?

"I can! I can walk to Brighton, and get a bed there, and leave for London tomorrow morning. Nothing will

induce me to pass another night at Browndown. Stop! One question before I put the lamp out."

I wrote them. He extinguished the lamp, and led me into the passage. The servant was standing there

bewildered. "Good night, James. I am going to bring your master back to Browndown." With that

explanation, he took up his hat and stick, and gave me his arm. The moment after, we were out in the dark

On the walk back to the rectory, he talked with a feverish volubility and excitement. Avoiding the slightest

reference to the subject discussed at our strange and stormy interview, he returned, with tenfold confidence in

himself, to his old boastful assertion of the great things he was going to do as a painter. The mission which

called him to reconcile Humanity with Nature; the superb scale on which he proposed to interpret

sympathetic scenery for the benefit of suffering mankind; the prime necessity of understanding him, not as a

mere painter, but as Grand Consoler in ArtI had it all over again, by way of satisfying my mind as to his

prospects and occupations in his future life. It was only when we stopped at the rectorygate that he referred

to what had passed between usand even then, he only touched on the subject in the briefest possible way.

"Well?" he said. "Have I won back your old regard for me? Do you believe there is a fine side to be found in

the nature of Nugent Dubourg? Man is a compound animal. You are a woman in ten thousand. Give me a

"Now for Oscar!" he shouted cheerfully. He waved his hat, and disappeared in the darkness. I stood at the

gate till the last rapid pitpat of his feet died away in the silence of the night.

An indescribable depression seized on my spirits. I began to doubt him again, the instant I was alone.

"Is there a time coming," I asked myself, "when all that I have done tonight must be done over again?"

I opened the rectorygate. Mr. Finch intercepted me before I could get round to our side of the house. He

With that reply, I told the rector in as few words as possible how my visit to Browndown had ended.

Mr. Finch looked at his letter. All those pages of eloquence written for nothing? No! In the nature of things,

that could not possibly be. "You have done very well, Madame Pratolungo," he remarked, in his most

patronizing manner. "Very well indeed, all things considered. But, I don't think I shall act wisely if I destroy

this." He carefully locked up his manuscript, and turned to me again with a mysterious smile. "I venture to

think," said Mr. Finch with mock humility, "My Letter will be wanted. Don't let me discourage you about

It was said by a fool: it would never have been said at all, if he had not written his wonderful letter. Still, it

echoed, with a painful fidelity, the misgiving secretly present at that moment in my own mindand, more

yet, it echoed the misgiving in Nugent's mind, the doubt of himself which his own lips had confessed to me in

After looking for awhile at her lovely peaceful face, I was obliged to turn away. It was time I left the bedside,

when the sight of her only made my spirits sink lower and lower. As I cast my last look at her before I closed

the door, Mr. Finch's ominous question forced itself on me again. In spite of myself, I said to myself

WITH the new morning, certain reflections found their way into my mind which were not of the most

welcome sort. There was one serious element of embarrassment in my position towards Lucilla, which had

Browndown was now empty. In the absence of both the brothers, what was I to say to Lucilla when the false

In what a labyrinth of lies had the first fatal suppression of the truth involved us all! One deception after

another had been forced on us; one disaster after another had followed retributively as the resultand, now

that I was left to deal singlehanded with the hard necessities of our position, no choice seemed left to me but

to go on deceiving Lucilla still! I was weary of it and ashamed of it. At breakfasttime, I evaded all further

discussion of the subject, after I had first ascertained that Lucilla did not expect her visitor before the

afternoon. For some time after breakfast, I kept her at the piano. When she wearied of music, and began to

talk of Oscar once more, I put on my hat, and set forth on a domestic errand (of the kind usually entrusted to

Zillah), solely for the purpose of keeping out of the way, and putting off to the last moment the hateful

necessity of telling more lies. The weather stood my friend. It threatened to rain; and Lucilla, on that account,

My errand took me to a farmhouse on the road which led to Brighton. After settling my business, I

prolonged my walk, though the rain was already beginning to fall. I had nothing on me that would spoil; and,

in my present frame of mind, a wet gown was a preferable alternative to returning to the rectory.

After I had walked about a mile further on, the solitude of the road was enlivened by the appearance of an

open carriage approaching me from the direction of Brighton. The hood was up to protect the person inside

from the rain. The person looked out as I passed, and stopped the carriage in a voice which I instantly

recognized as the voice of Grosse. Our gallant oculist insisted (in the state of the weather) on my instantly

"This is an unexpected pleasure," I said. "I thought you had arranged not to see Lucilla again till the end of

Grosse's eyes glared at me through his spectacles with a dignity and gravity worthy of Mr. Finch himself.

"Shall I tell you something?" he said. "You see sitting at your side a lost surgeonoptic. I shall die soon. Put

on my tombs, if you please, The malady which killed this German mans wasLofely Feench. When I am

away from hergif me your sympathies: I so much want itI sweat with anxiousness for young Miss. Your

damnmessfix about those two brodders is a sort of perpetual blisters on my mind. Instead of snoring

peaceably all night in my nice big English beds, I roll wide awake on my pillows, fidgeting for Feench. I am

here today before my time. For what? For to try her eyesyou think? Goot Madam, you think wrong! It is

not her eyes which troubles me. Her eyes will do. It is Youand the odders at your rectoryplace. You make

me nervousanxious about my patients. I am afraid some of you will let the messfix of those broddertwins

find its way to her pretty ears, and turn her poor little mind topsyturvies when I am not near to see to it in

time. Will you let her be comfortableeasy for two months more? Ach Gott! if I could only be certainsure of

that, I might leave those weak new eyes of hers to cure themselves, and go my ways back to London again."

I had intended to remonstrate with him pretty sharply for taking Lucilla to Browndown. After what he had

now said, it was useless to attempt anything of that sortand doubly useless to hope that he would let me

"Of course you are the best judge," I said. "But you little know what these precautions of yours cost the

"You shall judge for yourself," he said, "if it is not worth the cost. If her eyes satisfy meFeench shall learn

to see today. You shall stand by, you obstinate womans, and judge if it is goot to add shock and agitation to

the exhaustions and irritabilities and bedevilments of all sorts which our poor Miss must suffer in learning to

see, after being blind for all her life. No more of it now, till we get to the rectoryplace." By way of changing

the subject for the present, he put a question to me which I felt it necessary to answer with some caution.

"Mind this!" Grosse went on. "My brightboyNugent keeps her comfortableeasy. My brightboyNugent

is worth all the rest of you togedder. I insist on his making his visits to young Miss at the rectoryplace, in

spite of that windytalkypuffbagFeenchfather of hers. I say positivelyNugent shall come into the

There was no help for it now. I was obliged to tell him that Nugent had left Browndown, and that I was the

For a moment, I was really in doubt whether the skilled hand of the great surgeon would not be ignobly

employed in boxing my ears. No perversion of spelling can possibly report the complicated GermanEnglish

jargon in which his fury poured itself out on my devoted head. Let it be enough to say that he declared

Nugent's abominable personation of his brother to be vitally importantso long as Oscar was absentto his

successful treatment of the sensitive and excitable patient whom we had placed under his care. I vainly

assured him that Nugent's object in leaving Dimchurch was to set matters right again by bringing his brother

back. Grosse flatly declined to allow himself to be influenced by any speculative consideration of that sort.

He said (and swore) that my meddling had raised a serious obstacle in his way, and that nothing but his own

tender regard for Lucilla prevented him from "turning the coachmans back," and leaving us henceforth to

When we reached the rectory gate, he had cooled a little. As we crossed the garden, he reminded me that I

"Now mind!" he said. "You are going to see, if it is goot or bad to tell her that she has had those nice white

arms of hers round the wrong brodder. You are going to tell me afterwards, if you dare say to her, in plain

We found Lucilla in the sittingroom. Grosse briefly informed her that he had nothing particular to occupy

him in London, and that he had advanced the date of his visit on that account. "You want something to do,

my lofe, on this soakyrainy day. Show PapaGrosse what you can do with your eyes, now you have got

them back again." With those words, he unfastened the bandage, and, taking her by the chin, examined her

"Famouswell! You go on (as my goot friends say in America) firstclass. Now use your eyes for yourself.

He was not only satisfied about her eyeshe was triumphant. "Soh!" he grunted, turning to me. "Why is Mr.

I eagerly approached Lucilla. There was still a little dimness left in her eyes. I noticed also that they moved to

and fro restlessly, and (at times) wildly. But, oh, the bright change in her! the new life of beauty which the

new sense had bestowed on her already! Her smile, always charming, now caught light from her lips, and

spread its gentle fascination over all her face. It was impossible not to long to kiss her. I advanced to

"No," he said. "Walk your ways to the odder end of the roomsand let us see if she can go to you."

Like all other people, knowing no more of the subject than I knew, I had no idea of the pitiably helpless

manner in which the restored sense of sight struggles to assert itself, in persons who have been blind for life.

In such cases, the effort of the eyes that are first learning to see, is like the effort of the limbs when a child is

first learning to walk. But for Grosse's odd way of taking it, the scene which I was now to witness would

have been painful in the last degree. My poor Lucillainstead of filling me with joy, as I had

anticipatedwould I really believe have wrung my heart, and have made me burst out crying.

"Now!" said Grosse, laying one hand on Lucilla's arm, while he pointed to me with the other. "There she

"I lay you a betwager you can not! Ten thausand pounds to six pennies. Donedone. Now try!"

She answered by a little gesture of defiance, and took three hasty steps forward. Bewildered and frightened,

she stopped suddenly at the third stepbefore she had advanced half the way from her end of the room to

"I saw her here," she said, pointing down to the spot on which she was standing; and appealing piteously to

Grosse. "I see her nowand I don't know where she is! She is so near, I feel as if she touched my eyesand

yet" (she advanced another step, and clutched with her hands at the empty air)"and yet, I can't get near

She resented his laughing at her, with an obstinate shake of her head, and an angry knitting of her pretty

"Wait a little," she said. "You shan't win quite so easily as that. I will get to her yet!"

She came straight to me in a momentjust as easily as I could have gone to her myself if I had tried.

"Another wagerbet!" cried Grosse, still standing behind her, and calling to me. "Twenty thousand pounds

It was trueshe had blindfolded herself! With her eyes closed, she could measure to a hair's breadth the

distance which, with her eyes opened, she was perfectly incompetent to calculate! Detected by both of us, she

sat down, poor dear, with a sigh of despair. "Was it worth while," she said to me sadly, "to go through the

"All in goot time," he said. "Patienceand these helpless eyes of yours will learn. Soh! I shall begin to teach

them now. You have got your own notionshey?about this colors and that? When you were blind, did

you think what would be your favorite colors if you could see? You did? Which colors is it? Tell me. Come!"

"White, I understand," he said. "White is the fancy of a young girls. But why scarlets? Could you see scarlets

"Almost," she answered, "if it was bright enough. I used to feel something pass before my eyes when scarlet

"In these cataractscases, it is constantly scarlets that they almost see," muttered Grosse to himself. "There

must be reason for thisand I must find him." He went on with his questions to Lucilla. "And the colors you

Grosse nodded his head approvingly. "I thought so," he said. "It is always black that they hate. For this also

Having expressed that resolution, he approached the writingtable, and took a sheet of paper out of the case,

and a circular penwiper of scarlet cloth out of the inkstand. After that, he looked about him; waddled back

to the other end of the room; and fetched the black felt hat in which he had traveled from London. He ranged

the hat, the paper, and the penwiper in a row. Before he could put his next question to her, she pointed to the

"Wait a little," he whispered in my ear. "It is not quite so wonderful as you think. These blind peoples, when

they first see, have all alike the same hatred of anything what is dark." He turned to Lucilla. "Say," he asked.

She passed by the hat in contempt; looked at the penwiper, and put it down; looked at the sheet of paper,

"No!" cried Grosse. "I won't have it! How dare you blind yourself, in the presence of Me? What! I give you

back your sights, and you go shut your eyes. Open themor I will put you in the corner like a naughty girls.

She opened her eyes (very unwillingly), and looked once more at the penwiper and the paper.

"Goot. Now mind! This paper is white," (he snatched her handkerchief out of her apronpocket). "This

handkerchief is white, too; whitest of white, both of them. First lesson, my lofe! Here in my hands is your

"Those!"she exclaimed, pointing to the paper and the handkerchief, with a look of blank disappointment as he

dropped them on the table. She turned over the penwiper and the hat, and looked round at me. Grosse,

waiting to try another experiment, left it to me to answer. The result, in both cases, was the same as in the

cases of the sheet of paper and the handkerchief. Scarlet was not half as redblack, not onehundredth part

as blackas her imagination had figured them to her, in the days when she was blind. Still, as to this last

coloras to blackshe could feel some little encouragement. It had affected her disagreeably (just as poor

Oscar's face had affected her), though she had not actually known it for the color that she disliked. She made

an effort, poor child, to assert herself, against her merciless surgeonteacher. "I didn't know it was black," she

She tried, as she spoke, to toss the hat on to a chair, standing close by herand threw it instead, high above

the back of the chair, against the wall, at least six feet away from the object at which she had aimed. "I am a

helpless fool!" she burst out; her face flushing crimson with mortification. "Don't let Oscar see me! I can't

bear the thought of making myself ridiculous before him! He is coming here," she added, turning to me

entreatingly. "Manage to make some excuse for his not seeing me till later in the day."

I promised to find the excuseall the more readily, that I now saw an unexpected chance of reconciling her

in some degree (so long as she was learning to see) to the blank produced in her life by Oscar's absence.

"Go on!" she said impatiently. "Teach me to be something better than an idiotor put the bandage on, and

blind me again. My eyes are of no use to me! Do you hear?" she cried furiously, taking him by his broad

"Now! now! now!" cried Grosse. "If you don't keep your tempers, you little spitfire, I will teach you

nothing." He took up the sheet of paper and the penwiper; and, forcing her to sit down, placed them together

"Do you know one thing?" he went on. "Do you know what is meant by an objects which is square? Do you

"Is it not monstrous," she asked, "to hear him put such a question to me as that? Do I know round from

"If you know," persisted Grosse, "you can tell me. Look at those two things in your lap. Are they both round?

"You put me out, standing there staring at me through your horrid spectacles!" she said irritably. "Don't look

Grosse turned his head my way, with his diabolical grin; and signed to me to keep watch on her, in his place.

The instant his back was turned, she shut her eyes, and ran over the paper and the penwiper with the tips of

"One is round and one is square," she answered, cunningly opening her eyes again, just in time to bear critical

He took the paper and the penwiper out of her hands; and (thoroughly understanding the trick she had

played him) changed them for a bronze saucer and a book. "Which is round? and which is square of these?"

She looked first at one, and then at the otherplainly incapable (with only her eyes to help her) of answering

"I put you outdon't I?" said Grosse. "You can't shut your eyes, my lofely Feench, while I am lookingcan

She turned redthen pale again. I began to be afraid she would burst out crying. Grosse managed her to

perfection. The tact of this rough, ugly, eccentric old man was the most perfect tact I have ever met with.

"Shut your eyes," he said soothingly. "It is the right ways to learn. Shut your eyes, and take them in your

"Goot! now open your eyes, and see for yourself it is the saucers you have got in your right hand, and the

books you have got in your left. You see? Goot again! Put them back on the table now. What shall we do

"May I try if I can write?" she asked eagerly. "I do so want to see if I can write with my eyes instead of my

"No! Ten thausand times no! I forbid reading; I forbid writing, yet. Come with me to the window. How do

While we had been trying our experiment with Lucilla, the weather had brightened again. The clouds were

parting; the sun was coming out; the bright gaps of blue in the sky were widening every moment; the

shadows were traveling grandly over the windy slopes of the hills. Lucilla lifted her hands in speechless

admiration as the German threw open the window, and placed her face to face with the view.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "don't speak to me! don't touch me!let me enjoy it! There is no disappointment

here. I have never thought, I have never dreamed, of anything half so beautiful as this!"

Grosse looked at me, and silently pointed to her. She had turned paleshe was trembling in every limb,

overwhelmed by her own ecstatic sense of the glory of the sky and the beauty of the earth, as they now met

her view for the first time. I penetrated the surgeon's object in directing my attention to her. "See" (he meant

to say), "what a delicatelyorganized creature we have to deal with! Is it possible to be too careful in

handling such a sensitive temperament as that?" Understanding him only too well, I also trembled when I

thought of the future. Everything now depended on Nugent. And Nugent's own lips had told me that he could

She pleaded hard to be allowed to stay at the window a little longer. He refused to allow it. Upon that she

flew instantly into the opposite extreme. "I am in my own room, and I am my own mistress," she said angrily.

"Take your own ways; fatigue those weak new eyes of yoursand tomorrow, when you try to look out of

window, you will not be able to see at all." This reply terrified her into instant submission. She assisted in

replacing the bandage with her own hands. "May I go away to my own room?" she asked, with the simplicity

of a child. "I have seen such beautiful sightsand I do so want to think of them by myself."

The medical adviser instantly granted the patient's request. Any proceeding which tended to compose her,

"If Oscar comes," she whispered, as she passed me on her way to the door, "mind I hear of it! and mind you

don't tell him of the mistakes I have made!" She paused for a moment, thinking. "I don't understand myself,"

she said. "I never was so happy in my life. And yet I feel almost ready to cry!" She turned towards Grosse.

"Come here, papa. You have been very good to me today. I will give you a kiss." She laid her hands lightly

on his shoulders; kissed his lined and wrinkled cheek; gave me a little squeeze round the waistand left us.

Grosse turned sharply to the window, and used his huge silk handkerchief for a purpose to which (I suspect)

He put his handkerchief back into his pocket, and turned round to me from the window with his face

"Now you have seen for your own self," he said, with an emphatic rap on the box, "do you dare tell that sweet

It is not easy to find a limit to the obstinacy of womenwhen men expect them to acknowledge themselves

to have been wrong. After what I had seen, I no more dared tell her than he did. I was only too obstinate to

"Mind this!" he went on. Whether you shake her with frights, or whether you heat her with rages, or whether

you wound her with griefsit all goes straight the same to those weak new eyes of hers. They are so weak

and so new, that I must ask once more for my beds here tonight, for to see tomorrow if I have not already

tried them too much. Now, for the last time of asking, have you got the abominable courage in you to tell her

He had found my limit at last. I was obliged to own (heartily as I disliked doing it) that there was, for the

present, no choice left but mercifully to conceal the truth. Having gone this length I next attempted to consult

him as to the safest manner in which I could account to Lucilla for Oscar's absence. He refused (as a man) to

recognize the slightest necessity for giving me (as a woman) any advice on a question of evasions and

excuses. "I have not lived all my years in the world, without learning something," he said. "When it comes to

walking upon eggshells and telling fips, the womens have nothing to learn from the mens.Will you take a

little strollwalk with me in the garden? I have one odder thing to say to you: and I am hungry and thirsty

He produced "This," in the form of his pipe. We left the room at once for our stroll in the garden.

Having solaced himself with his first mouthful of tobaccosmoke, he startled me by announcing that he

meant to remove Lucilla forthwith from Dimchurch to the seaside. In doing this, he was actuated by two

motivesfirst, the medical motive of strengthening her constitution: second, the personal motive of

preserving her from making painful discoveries by placing her out of reach of the gossip of the rectory and

the village. Grosse had the lowest opinion of Mr. Finch and his household. His dislike and distrust of the

rector, in particular, knew no bounds: he characterized the Pope of Dimchurch as an Ape with a long tongue,

and a manandmonkey capacity for doing mischief. Ramsgate was the wateringplace which he had fixed

on. It was at a safe distance from Dimchurch; and it was near enough to London to enable him to visit Lucilla

frequently. The one thing needed was my cooperation in the new plan. If I was at liberty to take charge of

Lucilla, he would speak to the Ape with the long tongue; and we might start for Ramsgate before the end of

There was nothing to prevent me. My one other anxiety apart from Lucillaanxiety about good Papahad

now, for some time, been happily set at rest. Letter after letter from my sisters in France, brought me always

the same cheering news. My evergreen parent had at last discovered that he was no longer in the first bloom

of his youth. He had resigned to his juniors, with pathetic expressions of regret, the making of love and the

fighting of duels. Ravaged by past passions, this dear innocent had now found a refuge from swords, pistols,

and the sex, in collecting butterflies and playing on the guitar. I was free wholly to devote myself to Lucilla;

and I honestly rejoiced in the prospect before me. Alone with her, and away from the rectory (where there

was always danger off gossip reaching her ears) I could rely on myself to protect her from harm in the

present, and to preserve her for Oscar in the future. With all my heart I agreed to the arrangements as Grosse

proposed them. When we parted in the garden, he went round to the rector's side of the house to announce (in

his medical capacity) the decision at which he had arrivedwhile I, on my side, went back to Lucilla to

make the best excuses that I could invent for Oscar, and to prepare her for our speedy removal from

There was the first impression I produced on her, when I had done my best to account harmlessly for Oscar's

absence. I had, as I thought, taken the shortest and simplest way out of the difficulty, by merely inverting the

truth. In other words, by telling her that Nugent had got into some serious embarrassment abroad, and that

Oscar had been called away at a moment's notice, to follow him and help him. It was in vain that I reminded

her of Oscar's wellknown horror of leavetakings of all kinds; in vain that I represented the urgency of the

matter as leaving him no alternative but to confide his excuses and his farewells to me; in vain that I

promised for him that he would write to her at the first opportunity. She listened, without conviction. The

more perseveringly I tried to account for it, the more perseveringly she dwelt on Oscar's unaccountable

disregard of her claims on his consideration for her. As for our journey to Ramsgate, it was impossible to

I could only answer that he was not sure enough of his movements to be able to do that before he went away.

"It is more provoking than you think," she went on. "I believe Oscar is afraid to bring his unfortunate brother

into my presence. The blue face startled me when I saw it, I know. But I have quite got over that. I feel none

of the absurd terror of the poor man which I felt when I was blind. Now that I have seen for myself what he is

really like, I can feel for him. I wanted to tell Oscar thisI wanted to say that he might bring his brother to

live with us if he likedI wanted to prevent (just what has happened,) his going away from me when he

wishes to see his brother. You are using me very hardly among you; and I have some reason to complain of

While she was talking in this mortifying manner, I felt some consolation nevertheless. Oscar's disfigured

complexion would not be the terrible obstacle in the way of his restoration to Lucilla that I had feared. All the

comfort which this reflection could give, I wanted badly enough. There was no open hostility towards me on

Lucilla's partbut there was a coolness which I found more distressing to bear than hostility itself. I

breakfasted in bed the next morning, and only rose towards noonjust in time to say goodbye to Grosse

He was in high good spirits about his patient. Her eyes were the better instead of the worse for the exertion to

which he had subjected them on the previous day. The bracing air of Ramsgate was all that was wanting to

complete the success of the operation. Mr. Finch had started objections, all turning on the question of

expense. But with a daughter who was her own mistress, and who had her own fortune, his objections

mattered nothing. By the next day, or the day after at latest, we were to start for Ramsgate. I promised to

write to our good surgeon as soon as we were established; and he engaged on his side, to visit us immediately

after. "Let her use her eyes for two goot hours every day," said Grosse, at parting. "She may do what she likes

with themexcept that she must not peep into books, or take up pens, till I come to you at Ramsgate. It is

most wonderfulbeautiful to see how those new eyes of hers do get along. When I next meet goot Mr.

I felt a little nervous as to how the day would passwhen the German left me alone with Lucilla.

To my amazement, she not only met me with the needful excuses for her behavior on the previous day, but

showed herself to be perfectly resigned to the temporary loss of Oscar's society. It was she (not I) who

remarked that he could not have chosen a better time for being away from her, than the humiliating time

when she was learning to distinguish between round and square. It was she (not I) who welcomed the little

journey to Ramsgate as a pleasant change in her dull life, which would help to reconcile her to Oscar's

absence. In brief, if she had actually received a letter from Oscar, relieving her of all anxiety about him, her

words and looks could hardly have offered a completer contrast than they now showed to her words and

If I had noticed no other alteration in her than this welcome change for the better, my record of the day would

But, I grieve to say, I have something unpleasant to add. While she was making her excuses to me, and

speaking in the sensible and satisfactory terms which I have just repeated, I noticed a curious underlying

embarrassment in her manner, entirely unlike any previous embarrassment which had ever intruded itself

between us. And, stranger still, on the first occasion when Zillah came into the room, while I was in it, I

observed that Lucilla's embarrassment was reflected (when the old woman spoke to me) in the face and

But one conclusion could possibly follow from what I saw:they were both concealing something from me;

Somewherenot very far back in these pagesI have said of myself that I am not by nature a woman who

is easily ready to suspect others. On this very account, when I find suspicion absolutely forced on meas it

was nowI am apt to fly into the opposite extreme. In the present case, I fixed on the person to suspectall

the more readily from having been slow to suspect him in bygone days. "In some way or other," I said to

Was he communicating with her privately, in the name and in the character of Oscar?

The bare idea of it hurried me headlong into letting her know that I had noticed the change in her.

I said no more. If our intimacy had been less close and less affectionate, I might have openly avowed to her

what was passing in my mind. But how could I say to Lucilla, You are deceiving me? It would have been the

end of our sisterhoodthe end of our friendship. When confidence is withdrawn between two people who

love each othereverything is withdrawn. They are on the footing of strangers from that moment, and must

stand on ceremony. Delicate minds will understand why I accepted the check she had administered to me, and

I went into the village alone. Managing matters so as to excite no surprise, I contrived to have a little gossip

about Nugent with Gootheridge at the inn, and with the servant at Browndown. If Nugent had returned

secretly to Dimchurch, one of those two men, in our little village, must almost certainly have seen him.

I inferred from this that he had not tried to communicate with her personally. Had he attempted it (more

I went back to the rectory. It was close on the hour which I had appointed with Lucillanow that the

responsibility rested on my shouldersfor allowing her to use her eyes. On taking off the bandage, I noticed

a circumstance which confirmed the conclusion at which I had already arrived. Her eyes deliberately avoided

looking into mine. Suppressing as well as I could the pain which this new discovery caused me, I repeated

Grosse's words, prohibiting her from attempting to look into a book, or to use a pen, until he had seen her

"I looked into a little book of engravings," she answered. "But I could distinguish nothing. The lines all

"Have you tried to write?" I asked next. (I was ashamed of myself for laying that trap for heralthough the

serious necessity of discovering whether she was privately in correspondence with Nugent, might surely have

She changed color when she made that answer. It is necessary to own that, in putting my question, I was too

much excited to call to mind, what I should have remembered in a calmer state. There was no necessity for

her trying to use her eyeseven if she was really carrying on a correspondence which she wished to keep

secret from me. Zillah had been in the habit of reading her letters to her, before I appeared at the rectory; and

she could write short notes (as I have already mentioned) by feeling her way on the paper with her finger.

Besides, having learnt to read by touch (that is to say with raised characters), just as she had learnt to

writeeven if her eyes had been sufficiently recovered to enable her to distinguish small objects, nothing but

These considerations, though they did not strike me at the time, occurred to me later in the day, and altered

my opinion to a certain extent. I now interpreted the change of color which I had noticed in her as the

outward sign of suspicion on her sidesuspicion that I had a motive of my own in interrogating her. For the

rest, my doubts of Nugent remained unmoved. Try as I might, I could not divest my mind of the idea that he

was playing me false, and that in one way or another he had contrived, not only to communicate with Lucilla,

The last thing at night, I had a momentary impulse to question Zillah. Reflection soon checked it. My

experience of the nurse's character told me that she would take refuge in flat denialand would then inform

her mistress of what had happened. I knew enough of Lucilla to know (after what had already passed between

us) that a quarrel with me would follow. Things were bad enough already, without making them worse in that

way. When the morning came, I resolved to keep a watchful eye on the village postoffice, and on the

The address was in the handwriting of one of my sisters. We usually wrote to each other at intervals of a

fortnight or three weeks. This letter had followed its predecessor after an interval of less than one week. What

It enclosed a telegram, announcing that my poor dear father was lying dangerously wounded at Marseilles.

My sisters had already gone to him: they implored me to follow them without one moment of needless delay.

Is it necessary to tell the story of this horrible calamity? Of course it begins with a woman and an elopement.

Of course it ends with a young man and a duel. Have I not told you already?Papa was so susceptible; Papa

was so brave. Oh, dear, dear! the old story over again. You have an English proverb: "What is bred in the

OUGHT I to have been prepared for the calamity which had now fallen on my sisters and myself? If I had

looked my own experience of my poor father fairly in the face, would it not have been plain to me that the

habits of a life were not likely to be altered at the end of a life? Surelyif I had exerted my intelligenceI

might have foreseen that the longer his reformation lasted, the nearer he was to a relapse, and the more

obviously probable it became that he would fail to fulfill the hopeful expectations which I had cherished of

his conduct in the future? I grant it all. But where are the pattern people who can exert their

intelligencewhen their intelligence points to one conclusion, and their interests to another? Ah, my dear

ladies and gentlemen, there is such a fine strong foundation of stupidity at the bottom of our common

I could feel no hesitationas soon as I had recovered myselfabout what it was my duty to do. My duty

was to leave Dimchurch in time to catch the fast mailtrain from London to the Continent, at eight o'clock

Yes! not even Lucilla's interestsdearly as I loved her; alarmed as I felt about herwere as sacred as the

interests which called me to my father's bedside. I had some hours to spare before it would be necessary for

me to leave her. All I could do was to employ those hours in taking the strictest precautions I could think of

to protect her in my absence. I could not be long parted from her. One way or the other, the miserable doubt

She was honestly grieved when she read it. For a momentwhen she spoke her few words of

sympathythe painful constraint in her manner towards me passed away. It returned again, when I

announced my intention of starting for France that day, and expressed the regret I felt at being obliged to

defer our visit to Ramsgate for the present. She not only answered restrainedly (forming, as I fancied, some

thought at the moment in her own mind)she left me, with a commonplace excuse. "You must have much to

think of in this sad affliction: I won't intrude on you any longer. If you want me, you know where to find me."

I never remember, at any other time, such a sense of helplessness and confusion as came over me when she

had closed the door. I set to work to pack up the few things I wanted for the journey; feeling instinctively that

if I did not occupy myself in doing something, I should break down altogether. Accustomed in all the other

emergencies of my life, to decide rapidly, I was not even clear enough in my mind to see the facts as they

were. As to resolving on anything, I was about as capable of doing that as the baby in Mrs. Finch's arms.

The effort of packing aided me to rally a littlebut did no more towards restoring me to my customary tone

I sat down helplessly, when I had done; feeling the serious necessity of clearing matters up between Lucilla

and myself, before I went away, and still as ignorant as ever how to do it. To my own indescribable disgust, I

actually felt tears beginning to find their way into my eyes! I had just enough of Pratolungo's widow left in

me to feel heartily ashamed of myself. Past vicissitudes and dangers, in the days of my republican life with

my husband, had made me a sturdy walkerwith a gypsy relish (like my little Jicks) for the open air. I

I tried the garden. No! the garden was (for some inscrutable reason) not big enough. I had still some hours to

Turning towards the left, and passing the church, I heard through the open windows the boomboom of

Reverend Finch's voice, catechizing the village children. Thank Heaven, he was out of my way at any rate! I

mounted the hills, hurrying on as fast as I could. The air and the movement cleared my mind. After more than

an hour of hard walking, I returned to the rectory, feeling like my old self again.

Perhaps, there were some dregs of irresolution still left in me. Or, perhaps, there was some enervating

influence in my affliction, which made me feel more sensitively than ever the change in the relations between

Lucilla and myself. Having, by this time, resolved to come to a plain explanation, before I left her

unprotected at the rectory, I shrank, even yet, from confronting a possible repulse, by speaking to her

personally. Taking a leaf out of poor Oscar's book, I wrote what I wanted to say to her in a note.

I went to the kitchen. Zillah was not there. I knocked at the door of her bedroom. There was no answer: the

bedroom was empty when I looked in. Awkward as it would be, I found myself obliged, either to give my

I could not prevail on myself to speak to her. So I went to her room with my note, and knocked at the door.

Here again there was no reply. I knocked once morewith the same result. I looked in. There was no one in

the room. On the little table at the foot of the bed, there lay a letter addressed to me. The writing was in

Zillah's hand. But Lucilla had written her name in the corner in the usual way, to show that she had dictated

the letter to her nurse. A load was lifted off my heart as I took it up. The same idea (I concluded) had

occurred to her which had occurred to me. She too had shrunk from the embarrassment of a personal

explanation. She too had writtenand was keeping out of the way until her letter had spoken for her, and

With these pleasant anticipations, I opened the letter. Judge what I felt when I found what it really contained.

"DEAR MADAME PRATOLUNGO,You will agree with me, that it is very important, after what Herr

Grosse has said about the recovery of my sight, that my visit to Ramsgate should not be delayed. As you are

unable, through circumstances which I sincerely regret, to accompany me to the seaside, I have determined

to go to London to my aunt, Miss Batchford, and to ask her to be my companion instead of you. I have had

experience enough of her sincere affection for me to be quite sure that she will gladly take the charge of me

off your hands. As no time is to be lost, I start for London without waiting for your return from your walk to

wish you goodbye. You so thoroughly understand the necessity of dispensing with formal farewells, in

cases of emergency, that I am sure you will not feel offended at my taking leave of you in this way. With best

"P. S.You need be under no apprehension about me. Zillah goes with me as far as London; and I shall

But for one sentence in it, I should most assuredly have answered this cruel letter by instantly resigning my

The sentence to which I refer, contained the words which cast in my teeth the excuses that I had made for

Oscar's absence. The sarcastic reference to my recent connection with a case of emergency, and to my

experience of the necessity of dispensing with formal farewells, removed my last lingering doubts of

Nugent's treachery. I now felt, not suspicion only, but positive conviction that he had communicated with her

in his brother's name, and that he had contrived (by some means at which it was impossible for me to guess)

so to work on Lucilla's mindso to excite that indwelling distrust which her blindness had rooted in her

Arriving at this conclusion, I could still feel compassionately and generously towards Lucilla. Far from

blaming my poor deluded sisterfriend for her cruel departure and her yet crueler letter, I laid the whole fault

on the shoulders of Nugent. Full as my mind was of my own troubles, I could still think of the danger that

threatened Lucilla, and of the wrong that Oscar had suffered. I could still feel the old glow of my resolution

to bring them together again, and still remember (and determine to pay) the debt I owed to Nugent Dubourg.

In the turn things had taken, and with the short time still at my disposal, what was I to do next? Assuming

that Miss Batchford would accompany her niece to Ramsgate, how could I put the necessary obstacle in

Nugent's way, if he attempted to communicate with Lucilla at the seaside, in my absence?

It was impossible for me to decide this, unless I first knew whether Miss Batchford, as a member of the

family, was to be confidentially informed of the sad position in which Oscar and Lucilla now stood towards

The person to consult in this difficulty was the rector. As head of the household, and in my absence, the

I went round at once to the other side of the house. If Mr. Finch had returned to the rectory, after the

catechizing was over, well and good. If not, I should be obliged to inquire in the village and seek him at the

cottages of his parishioners. His magnificent voice relieved me from all anxiety on this head. The

When I entered the room, Mr. Finch was on his legs, highly excited; haranguing Mrs. Finch and the baby,

ensconced as usual in a corner. My appearance on the scene diverted his flow of language, for the moment, so

that it all poured itself out on my unlucky self. (If you recollect that the rector and Lucilla's aunt had been,

from time immemorial, on the worst of termsyou will be prepared for what is coming. If you have

"The very person I was going to send for!" said the Pope of Dimchurch. "Don't excite Mrs. Finch! Don't

speak to Mrs. Finch! You shall hear why directly. Address yourself exclusively to Me. Be calm, Madame

I ventured to stop him: mentioning that Lucilla's letter had informed me of his daughter's sudden departure

for her aunt's house. Mr. Finch waved away my answer with his hand, as something too infinitely

"Yes! yes! yes!" he said. "You have a superficial acquaintance with the facts. But you are far from being

aware of what my daughter's sudden removal of herself from my roof really means. Now don't be frightened,

Madame Pratolungo! and don't excite Mrs. Finch! (How are you, my dear? how is the child? Both well?

Thanks to an overruling Providence, both well.) Now, Madame Pratolungo, attend to this. My daughter's

flightI say flight advisedly: it is nothing lessmy daughter's flight from my house means (I entreat you to

be calm!)means ANOTHER BLOW dealt at me by the family of my first wife. Dealt at me," repeated Mr.

Finch; heating himself with the recollection of his old feud with the Batchfords"Dealt at me by Miss

Batchford (by Lucilla's aunt, Madame Pratolungo) through my unoffending second wife, and my innocent

child.Are you sure you are well, my dear? are you sure the infant is well? Thank

Providence!Concentrate your attention, Madame Pratolungo! Your attention is wandering. Prompted by

Miss Batchford, my daughter has left my roof. Ramsgate is a mere excuse. And how has she left it? Not only

without first seeing MeI am Nobody! but without showing the slightest sympathy for Mrs. Finch's

maternal situation. Attired in her traveling costume, my daughter precipitately entered (or to use my wife's

graphic expression 'bounced into') the nursery, while Mrs. Finch was administering maternal sustenance to

the infant. Under circumstances which might have touched the heart of a bandit or a savage, my unnatural

daughter (remind me, Mrs. Finch; we will have a little Shakespeare tonight; I will read King Lear), my

unnatural daughter announced without one word of preparation that a domestic affliction would prevent you

from accompanying her to Ramsgate.Grieved, dear Madame Pratolungo, to hear of it. Cast your burden on

Providence. Bear up, Mrs. Finch; bear upHaving startled my wife with this harrowing news, my daughter

next shocked her by declaring that she was going to leave her father's roof, without waiting to bid her father

goodbye. The catching of a train, you will observe, was (no doubt at Miss Batchford's instigation) of more

importance than the parental embrace or the pastoral blessing. Leaving a message of apology for Me, my

heartless child (I use Mrs. Finch's graphic language againyou have fair, very fair powers of expression,

Mrs. Finch)my heartless child 'bounced out' of the nursery to catch her train; having, for all she knew, or

cared, administered a shock to my wife which might have soured the fountain of maternal sustenance at its

source. There is where the Blow falls, Madame Pratolungo! How do I know that acid disturbance is not being

communicated at this moment, instead of wholesome nourishment, between mother and child? I shall prepare

you an alkaline draught, Mrs. Finch, to be taken after meals. Don't speak; don't move! Give me your pulse. I

hold Miss Batchford accountable, Madame Pratolungo, for whatever happensmy daughter is a mere

instrument in the hands of my first wife's family. Give me your pulse, Mrs. Finch. I don't like your pulse.

Come upstairs directly. A recumbent position, and another warm bathunder Providence, Madame

Pratolungo!may parry the Blow. Would you kindly open the door, and pick up Mrs. Finch's handkerchief?

I seized my first opportunity of speaking again, while Mr. Finch was conducting his wife (with his arm round

her waist) to the doorputting the question which I had been waiting to ask, in this cautious form:

"Do you propose to communicate, sir, either with your daughter or with Miss Batchford, while Lucilla is

Before I could state my object, Mr. Finch turned round (turning Mrs. Finch with him) and surveyed me from

"Is it possible you can see this double Wreck," said Mr. Finch, indicating his wife and child, "and suppose

that I would communicate or sanction communication of any sort, with the persons who are responsible for

it?My dear! Can you account for Madame Pratolungo's extraordinary question? Am I to understand (do

It was useless to try to explain myself. It was useless for Mrs. Finch (who had made several abortive efforts

to put in a word or two, on her own part) to attempt to pacify her husband. All the poor damp lady could do

was to beg me to write to her from foreign parts. "I'm sorry you're in trouble; and I should really be glad to

hear from you." Mrs. Finch had barely time to say those kind wordsbefore the rector, in a voice of thunder,

desired me to look at "that double Wreck, and respect it if I did not respect him"and with that walked

Having gained the object which had brought me into the study, I made no attempt to detain him. The little

sense the man possessed at the best of times, was completely upset by the shock which Lucilla's abrupt

departure had inflicted on his high opinion of his own importance. That he would end in being reconciled to

his daughterbefore her next subscription to the household expenses fell duewas a matter of downright

certainty. But, until that time came, I felt equally sure that he would vindicate his outraged dignity by

declining to hold any communication, in person or in writing, with Ramsgate. During the short term of my

absence from England, Miss Batchford would be left as ignorant of her niece's perilous position between the

twinbrothers, as Lucilla herself. To know this was to have gained the information that I wanted. Nothing

On the spur of the moment, I could see but one way. If Grosse pronounced Lucilla's recovery to be complete,

before I returned from abroad, the best thing I could do would be to put Miss Batchford in a position to reveal

the truth in my placewithout running any risk of a premature discovery. In other words, without letting the

old lady into the secret, before the time arrived at which it could be safely divulged.

This apparently intricate difficulty was easily overcome, by writing two letters (before I went away) instead

The first letter I addressed to Lucilla. Without any reference to her behavior to me, I stated, in the fullest

detail and with all needful delicacy, her position between Oscar and Nugent: and referred her for proof of the

truth of my assertions to her relatives at the rectory. "I leave it entirely to your discretion" (I added) "to write

me an answer or not. Put the warning which I now give you to the proof; and if you wonder why it has been

so long delayed, apply to Herr Grosse on whom the whole responsibility rests." There I ended; being

resolved, after the wrong that Lucilla had inflicted on me, to leave my justification to facts. I confess I was

too deeply wounded by her conductthough I did lay all the blame of it on Nugentto care to say a word in

It was not an easy matter to address Miss Batchford. The contempt with which she regarded Mr. Finch's

opinions in politics and religion, was more than matched by the strong aversion which she felt for my

republican opinions. I have already mentioned, far back in these pages, that a dispute on politics between the

Tory old lady and myself ended in a quarrel between us, which closed the doors of her house on me from that

time forth. Knowing this, I ventured on writing to her nevertheless, because I also knew Miss Batchford to be

(apart from her furious prejudices) a gentlewoman in the best sense of the word; devotedly attached to her

niece, and quite as capable, when that devotion was appealed to, of doing justice to me (apart from my furious

prejudices) as I was of doing justice to her. Writing in a tone of unaffected respect, and appealing to her

forbearance to encourage mine, I requested her to hand my letter to Lucilla on the day when the surgeon

reported that all further necessity for his attendance had ceased. In the interval before this happened, I

entreated Miss Batchford, in her niece's interests, to consider my letter as a strictly private communication;

adding, that my sufficient reason for venturing to make this condition would be found in my letter to

Lucillawhich I authorized her aunt to read as soon as the time had arrived for opening it.

By this means I had, as I firmly believed, taken the only possible way of preventing Nugent Dubourg from

Whatever his uncontrolled infatuation for Lucilla might lead him to do next, he could proceed to no serious

extremities until Grosse pronounced her recovery to be complete. On the day when Grosse did that, she

would receive my letter, and would discover for herself the abominable deception which had been practiced

on her. As to attempting to find Nugent, no idea of doing this entered my mind. Wherever he might be, at

home or abroad, it would be equally useless to appeal to his honor again. It would be degrading myself to

speak to him or to trust him. To expose him to Lucilla the moment it became possible was the one thing to be

done. I was ready with my letters, one enclosed in the other, when good Mr. Gootheridge (with whom I had

arranged previously) called to drive me to Brighton in his light cart. The chaise which he had for hire had

been already used to make the same journey by Lucilla and the nurse, and had not yet been returned to the

inn. I reached my train before the hour of starting, and arrived in London with a sufficient margin of time to

Resolved to make sure that no possible mischance could occur, I drove to Miss Batchford's house, and saw

It was a bitter moment when I found myself pulling down my veil, in the fear that Lucilla might be at the

window and see me! Nobody was visible but the man who answered the door. If pen, ink, and paper had been

within my reach at the moment, I think I should have written to her on my own account, after all! As it was, I

could only forgive her the injury she had done me. From the bottom of my heart, I forgave her, and longed

for the blessed time which should unite us again. In the meanwhile, having done everything that I could to

guard and help her, I was now free to give to Oscar all the thoughts that I could spare from my poor

Being bound for the Continent, I determined (though the chances were a hundred to one against me) to do all

that I could, in my painful position, to discover the place of Oscar's retreat. The weary hours of suspense at

my father's bedside would be lightened to me, if I could feel that the search for the lost man was being carried

on at my instigation, and that from day to day there was a bare possibility of my hearing of him, if there was

The office of the lawyer whom I had consulted during my previous visit to London, lay in my way to the

terminus. I drove there next, and was fortunate enough to find him still at business.

No tidings had yet been heard of Oscar. The lawyer, however, proved to be useful by giving me a letter of

introduction to a person at Marseilles, accustomed to conduct difficult confidential inquiries, and having

agents whom he could employ in all the great cities of Europe. A man of Oscar's startling personal

appearance would be surely more or less easy to trace, if the right machinery to do it could only be set at

work. My savings would suffice for this purpose to a certain extentand to that extent I resolved that they

It was a troubled sea on the channel passage that night. I remained on deck; accepting any inconvenience

rather than descend into the atmosphere of the cabin. As I looked out to sea on one side and on the other, the

dark waste of tossing waters seemed to be the fit and dreary type of the dark prospect that was before me. On

the trackless path that we were ploughing, a faint misty moonlight shed its doubtful ray. Like the doubtful

IN my description of what Lucilla said and did, on the occasion when the surgeon was teaching her to use her

sight, it will be remembered that she is represented as having been particularly anxious to be allowed to try

The motive at the bottom of this was the motive which is always at the bottom of a woman's conduct when

she loves. Her one ambition is to present herself to advantage, even in the most trifling matters, before the

man on whom her heart is fixed. Lucilla's one ambition with Oscar, was this and no more.

Conscious that her handwritingthus far, painfully and incompletely guided by her sense of touchmust

present itself in sadly unfavorable contrast to the handwriting of other women who could see, she persisted in

petitioning Grosse to permit her to learn to "write with her eyes instead of her finger," until she fairly wearied

out the worthy German's power of resistance. The rapid improvement in her sight, after her removal to the

seaside, justified him (as I was afterwards informed) in letting her have her way. Little by little, using her

eyes for a longer and longer time on each succeeding day, she mastered the serious difficulty of teaching

herself to write by sight instead of by touch. Beginning with lines in copybooks, she got on to writing easy

words to dictation. From that again, she advanced to writing notes; and from writing notes to keeping a

journalthis last, at the suggestion of her aunt, who had lived in the days before penny postage, when people

kept journals, and wrote long lettersin short, when people had time to think of themselves, and, more

I had planned at first to make use of it, so as to continue the course of my narrative without a check; still

writing in my own personas I have written thus far; and as I propose to write again, at the time when I

But on thinking over it once more, and after reading the Journal again, it strikes me as the wiser proceeding to

let Lucilla tell the story of her life at Ramsgate, herself: adding notes of my own occasionally, where they

appear to be required. Variety, freshness, and realityI believe I shall secure them all three by following this

plan. Why is History in general (I know there are brilliant exceptions to the rule) such dull reading? Because

it is the narrative of events, written at second hand. Now I will be anything else you please, except dull. You

may say I have been dull already? As I am an honest woman, I don't agree with you. There are some people

who bring dull minds to their readingand then blame the writer for it. I say no more.

Consider it as arranged, then. During my absence on the Continent, Lucilla shall tell the story of events at

East Cliff Ramsgate, August 28th.A fortnight today since my aunt and I arrived at this place. I sent Zillah

back to the rectory from London. Her rheumatic infirmities trouble her tenfold, poor old soul, in the moist air

How has my writing got on for the last week? I am becoming a little better satisfied with it. I use my pen

more easily; my hand is less like the hand of a backward child than it was. I shall be able to write as well as

[Note.She is easily satisfied, poor dear. Her improved handwriting is sadly crooked. Some of the letters

embrace each other at close quarters like dear friends; and some start asunder like bitter enemies. This is not

to reflect on Lucillabut to excuse myself, if I make any mistakes in transcribing the Journal. Now let her

Oscar's wife! when shall I be Oscar's wife? I have not so much as seen him yet. SomethingI am afraid a

difficulty with his brotherstill keeps him on the Continent. The tone in which he writes continues to have a

certain reserve in it which disquiets and puzzles me. Am I quite as happy as I expected to be when I

It is not Oscar's fault, if I am out of spirits every now and then. It is my own fault. I have offended my father;

and I sometimes fear I have not acted justly towards Madame Pratolungo. These things vex me.

It seems to be my fate to be always misunderstood. My sudden flight from the rectory meant no disrespect to

my father. I left as I did, because I was quite incapable of facing the woman whom I had once dearly

lovedthinking of her as I think now. It is so unendurable to feel that your confidence is lost in a person

whom you once trusted without limit, and to go on meeting that person every hour in the day with a smooth

face, as if nothing had happened! The impulse to escape more meetings (when I discovered that she had left

the house for a walk) was irresistible. I should do it again, if I was in the same position again. I have hinted at

this in writing to my father; telling him that something unpleasant had happened between Madame

Pratolungo and me, and that I went away so suddenly, on that account alone. No use! He has not answered

my letter. I have written since to my stepmother. Mrs. Finch's reply has informed me of the unjust manner in

which he speaks of my aunt. Without the slightest reason for it, he is even more deeply offended with Miss

Sad as this estrangement is, there is one consolationso far as I am concerned, it will not last. My father and

I are sure, sooner or later, to come to an understanding together. When I return to the rectory, I shall make my

She has not answered the letter I wrote to her. (I begin to wish I had never written it, or at least some of

itthe latter part I mean.) I have heard absolutely nothing of her since she has been abroad. I don't know

when she will returnor if she will ever return, to live at Dimchurch again. Oh, what would I not give to

have this dreadful mystery cleared up! to know whether I ought to fall down on my knees before her and beg

her pardon? or whether I ought to count among the saddest days of my life the day which brought that woman

There is the question which always comes to me and torments me, when I wake in the night. Let me look

[Note.I copy the letter. Other eyes than hers ought to see it in this place. It is Nugent, of course, who here

writes in Oscar's character and in Oscar's name. You will observe that his good resolutions, when he left me,

"MY OWN DEAREST,I have reached Paris, and have found my first opportunity of writing to you since I

left Browndown. Madame Pratolungo has no doubt told you that a sudden necessity has called me to my

brother. I have not yet reached the place at which I am to meet him. Before I meet him, let me tell you what

the necessity which has parted us really is. Madame Pratolungo no longer possesses my confidence. When

"Alas, my love, I must amaze you, shock you, grieve youI who would lay down my life for your

happiness! Let me write it in the fewest words. I have made a terrible discovery. Lucilla! you have trusted

Madame Pratolungo as your friend. Trust her no longer. She is your enemy, and mine.

"Long ere this, I ought to have told you, what I tell you now. But I shrink from distressing you. To see a sad

look on your dear face breaks my heart. It is only when I am away from youwhen I fear the consequences

if you are not warned of your dangerthat I can summon the courage to tear off the mask from that woman's

false face, and show her to you as she really is. It is impossible for me to enter into details in the space of a

letter; I reserve all particulars until we meet again, and until I can produce, what you have a right to ask

"In the meanwhile, I beg you to look back into your own thoughts, to recall your own words, on the day when

Madame Pratolungo offended you in the rectory garden. On that occasion, the truth escaped the

"Do you remember what you said, after she had followed you to Browndown? I mean, after she had declared

that you would have fallen in love with my brother if you had met him firstand after Nugent (at her

instigation no doubt) had taken advantage of your blindness to make you believe that you were speaking to

me. When you were smarting under the insult, and when you had found out the trick, what did you say?

" 'She hated you from the first, Oscarshe took up with your brother directly he came here. Don't marry me

at Dimchurch! Find out some place that they don't know of! They are both in a conspiracy together against

"Lucilla! I echo your own words to you. I return the warningthe prophetic warningwhich you

unconsciously gave me in that past time. I am afraid my unhappy brother loves youand I know for certain

that Madame Pratolungo feels the interest in him which she has never felt in me. What you said, I say. They

"When we meet again, I shall be prepared to defeat the conspiracy. Till that time comesas you value your

happiness and mine, don't let Madame Pratolungo suspect that you have discovered her. It is she, I firmly

believe, who is to blame. I am going to my brotheras you will now understandwith an object far

different to the object which I put forward as an excuse to your false friend. Fear no dispute between Nugent

and me. I know him. I firmly believe I shall find that he has been tempted and misled. I answernow that no

evil influences are at work on himfor his acting like an honorable man, and deserving your pardon and

mine. The excuse I have made to Madame Pratolungo will prevent her from interfering between us. That was

"Keep me correctly informed of your movements and of hers. I enclose an address to which you can write,

"On my side, I promise to write constantly. Once more, don't trust a living creature about you with the secret

which this letter reveals! Expect me back at the earliest possible moment, to free youwith a husband's

authorityfrom the woman who has so cruelly deceived us.Yours with the truest affection, the fondest

[Note.It is quite needless for me to dwell here on the devilish cunningI can use no other phrasewhich

inspired this abominable letter. Look back to the twentyseventh and twentyeighth chapters, and you will

see how skillfully what I said in a moment of foolish irritation, and what Lucilla said when she too had lost

her temper, is turned to account to poison her mind against me. We are made innocently to supply our enemy

with the foundation on which he builds his plot. For the rest, the letter explains itself. Nugent still persists in

personating his brother. He guesses easily at the excuse I should make to Lucilla for his absence; and he gets

over the difficulty of appearing to have confided his errand to a woman whom he distrusts, by declaring that

he felt it necessary to deceive me as to what the nature of that errand really was. As the Journal proceeds, you

will see how dexterously he works the machinery which his letter has set in motion. All I need add here, in

the way of explanation, isthat the delay in his arrival at Ramsgate of which Lucilla complains, was caused

by nothing but his own hesitation. His sense of honoras I knew, from discoveries made at a later

timewas not entirely lost yet. The lower he sank, the harder his better nature struggled to raise him.

Nothing, positively nothing, but his own remorse need have kept him at Paris (it is needless to say that he

never stirred farther, and never discovered the place of his brother's retreat) after Lucilla had informed him by

letter, that I had gone abroad, and that she was at Ramsgate with her aunt. I have done: let Lucilla go on

He is the soul of honor; he is incapable of deceiving me. I remember saying what he tells me I said, and

thinking it toofor the moment onlywhen I was beside myself with rage. Stillmay it not be possible

that appearances have misled Oscar? Oh, Madame Pratolungo! I had such a high opinion of you, I loved you

so dearlycan you have been unworthy of the admiration and affection that you once inspired in me?

I quite agree with Oscar that his brother is not to blame. It is sad and shocking that Mr. Nugent Dubourg

should have allowed himself to fall in love with me. But I cannot help pitying him. Poor disfigured man, I

It is impossible to endure, any longer, my present state of suspense. Oscar must, and shall, satisfy me about

Madame Pratolungowith his own lips. I shall write to him by this post, and insist on his coming to

August 29th.I wrote to him yesterday, to the address in Paris. My letter will be delivered tomorrow.

[Note.That innocent letter did its fatal mischief. It ended the struggle against himself which had kept

Nugent Dubourg in Paris. On the morning when he received it, he started for England. Here is the entry in

August 31st.A telegram for me at breakfasttime. I am too happy to keep my hand steadyI am writing

horribly. It doesn't matter: nothing matters but my telegram. (Oh, what a noble creature the man was who

I AM composed enough to return to my Journal, and to let my mind dwell a little on all that I have thought

Now that I have lost Madame Pratolungo, I have no friend with whom I can talk over my little secrets. My

aunt is all that is kind and good to me; but with a person so much older than I amwho has lived in such a

different world from my world, and whose ideas seem to be so far away from minehow can I talk about

my follies and extravagances, and expect sympathy in return! My one confidential friend is my JournalI

can only talk about myself to myself, in these pages. My position feels sometimes like a very lonely one. I

saw two girls telling all their secrets to each other on the sands todayand I am afraid I envied them.

Well, my dear Journal, how did I feelafter longing for Oscarwhen Oscar came to me? It is dreadful to

own it; but my book locks up, and my book can be trusted with the truth. I felt ready to cryI was so

No. "Disappointed" is not the word. I can't find the word. There was a momentI hardly dare write it: it

seems so atrociously wickedthere was a moment when I actually wished myself blind again.

He took me in his arms; he held my hand in his. In the time when I was blind, how I should have felt it! how

the delicious tingle would have run through me when he touched me! Nothing of the kind happened now. He

might have been Oscar's brother for all the effect he produced on me. I have myself taken his hand since, and

shut my eyes to try and renew my blindness, and put myself back completely as I was in the old time. The

Is it that he is a little restrained with me on his side? He certainly is! I felt it the moment he came into the

No: it is not that. In the old time, when we were only beginning to love each other, he was restrained with me.

But it made no difference then. I was not the insensible creature in those days that I have become since.

I can only account for it in one way. The restoration of my sight has made a new creature of me. I have

gained a senseI am no longer the same woman. This great change must have had some influence over me

that I never suspected until Oscar came here. Can the loss of my sense of feeling be the price that I have paid

In the meanwhile, I have had a second disappointment. He is not nearly so beautiful as I thought he was when

On the day when my bandage was taken off for the first time, I could only see indistinctly. When I ran into

the room at the rectory, I guessed it was Oscar rather than knew it was Oscar. My father's grey head, and Mrs.

Finch's woman's dress, would no doubt have helped anybody in my place to fix as I did on the right man. But

this is all different now. I can see his features in detailand the result is (though I won't own it to any of

them) that I find my idea of him in the days of my blindnessoh, so unlike the reality! The one thing that is

not a disappointment to me, is his voice. When he cannot see me, I close my eyes, and let my ears feel the old

And this is what I have gained, by submitting to the operation, and enduring my imprisonment in the

What am I writing? I ought to be ashamed of myself! Is it nothing to have had all the beauty of land and sea,

all the glory of cloud and sunshine, revealed to me? Is it nothing to be able to look at my

fellowcreaturesto see the bright faces of children smile at me when I speak to them? Enough of myself! I

My aunt approves of him. She thinks him handsome, and says he has the manners of a gentleman. This last is

high praise from Miss Batchford. She despises the present generation of young men. "In my time," she said

the other day, "I used to see young gentlemen. I only see young animals now; wellfed, wellwashed,

Oscar, on his side, seems to like Miss Batchford on better acquaintance. When I first presented him to her, he

rather surprised me by changing color and looking very uneasy. He is almost distressingly nervous, on certain

[Note.I really must break in here. Her aunt's "grand manner" makes me sick. It is nothing (between

ourselves) but a hooknose and a stiff pair of stays. What daunted Nugent Dubourg, when he first found

himself in the old lady's presence, was the fear of discovery. He would no doubt have learnt from his brother

that Oscar and Miss Batchford had never met. You will see, if you look back, that it was, in the nature of

things, impossible they should have met. But is it equally clear that Nugent could find out beforehand that

Miss Batchford had been left in ignorance of what had happened at Dimchurch? He could do nothing of the

sorthe could feel no assurance of his security from exposure, until he had tried the ground in his own

proper person first. The risk here was certainly serious enough to make even Nugent Dubourg feel uneasy.

And Lucilla talks of her aunt's "grand manner!" Poor innocent! I leave her to go on.P.]

As soon as my aunt left us together, the first words I said to Oscar, referred (of course) to his letter about

"Why should we spoil the pleasure of our first meeting by talking of her?" he said. "It is so inexpressibly

painful to you and to me. Let us return to it in a day or two. Not now, Lucillanot now!"

His brother was the next subject in my mind. I was not at all sure how he would take my speaking about it. I

risked a question however, for all that. He made another sign of entreaty, and looked distressed again.

"My brother and I understand each other, Lucilla. He will remain abroad for the present. Shall we drop that

subject, too? Let me hear your own newsI want to know what is going on at the rectory. I have heard

nothing since you wrote me word that you were here with your aunt, and that Madame Pratolungo had gone

I was unwilling to tell him of the misunderstanding at home. "I have not heard from my father since I have

been here," I said. "Now you have come back, I can write and announce your return, and get all the news

He looked at me rather strangelyin a way which led me to fear that he saw some objection to my writing to

"I suppose you would like Mr. Finch to come here?" he saidand then stopped suddenly, and looked at me

Oscar seemed to be wonderfully interested about my father. "Very little chance!" he repeated. "Why?"

I was obliged to refer to the family quarrelstill, however, saying nothing of the unjust manner in which my

"As long as I am with Miss Batchford," I said, "it is useless to hope that my father will come here. They are

on bad terms; and I am afraid there is no prospect, at present, of their being friends again. Do you object to

"I?" he exclaimed, looking the picture of astonishment. "What could possibly make you think that? Write by

all meansand leave a little space for me. I will add a few lines to your letter."

It is impossible to say how his answer relieved me. It was quite plain that I had stupidly misinterpreted him.

Oh, my new eyes! my new eyes! shall I ever be able to depend on you as I could once depend on my touch?

[Note.I must intrude myself again. I shall burst with indignation while I am copying the journal, if I don't

relieve my mind at certain places in it. Remark, before you go any farther, how skillfully Nugent contrives to

ascertain his exact position at Ramsgateand see with what a fatal unanimity all the chances of his

personating Oscar, without discovery, declare themselves in his favor! Miss Batchford, as you have seen, is

entirely at his mercy. She not only knows nothing herself, but she operates as a check on Mr. Finchwho

would otherwise have joined his daughter at Ramsgate, and have instantly exposed the conspiracy. On every

side of him, Nugent is, to all appearance, safe. I am away in one direction. Oscar is away in another. Mrs.

Finch is anchored immovably in her nursery. Zillah has been sent back from London to the rectory. The

Dimchurch doctor (who attended Oscar, and who might have proved an awkward witness) is settled in

Indiaas you will see, if you refer to the twentysecond chapter. The London doctor with whom he

consulted has long since ceased to have any relations with his former patient. As for Herr Grosse, if he

appears on the scene, he can be trusted to shut his eyes professionally to all that is going on, and to let matters

take their course in the only interest he recognizesthe interest of Lucilla's health. There is literally no

obstacle in Nugent's wayand no sort of protection for Lucilla, except in the faithful instinct which persists

in warning her that this is the wrong manthough it speaks in an unknown tongue. Will she end in

understanding the warning before it is too late? My friend, this note is intended to relieve my mindnot

yours. All you have to do is to read on. Here is the journal. I won't stand another moment in your way.P.]

September 2nd.A rainy day. Very little said that is worth recording between Oscar and me.

My aunt, whose spirits are always affected by bad weather, kept me a long time in her sittingroom, amusing

herself by making me exercise my sight. Oscar was present by special invitation, and assisted the old lady in

setting this new seeingsense of mine all sorts of tasks. He tried hard to prevail on me to let him see my

writing. I refused. It is improving as fast as it can; but it is not good enough yet.

I notice here what a dreadfully difficult thing it is to get backin such a case as mineto the exercise of

We have a cat and a dog in the house. Would it be credited, if I was telling it to the world instead of telling it

to my Journal, that I actually mistook one for the other today?after seeing so well, too, as I do now, and

being able to write with so few false strokes in making my letters! It is nevertheless true that I did mistake the

two animals; having trusted to nothing but my memory to inform my eyes which was which, instead of

helping my memory by my touch. I have now set this right. I caught up puss, and shut my eyes (oh, that

habit! when shall I get over it?) and felt her soft fur (so different from a dog's hair!) and opened my eyes

again, and associated the feel of the fur for ever afterwards with the sight of a cat.

Today's experience has also informed me that I make slow progress in teaching myself to judge correctly of

In spite of this drawback, however, there is nothing I enjoy so much in using my sight as looking at a great

wide prospect of any kindprovided I am not asked to judge how far or how near objects may be. It seems

like escaping out of prison, to look (after having been shut up in my blindness) at the view over the town, and

the bold promontory of the pier, and the grand sweep of the sea beyondall visible from our windows.

The moment my aunt begins to question me about distances, she makes a toil of my pleasure. It is worse still

when I am asked about the relative sizes of ships and boats. When I see nothing but a boat, I fancy it larger

than it is. When I see the boat in comparison with a ship, and then look back at the boat, I instantly go to the

other extreme, and fancy it smaller than it is. The setting this right still vexes me almost as keenly as my

stupidity vexed me some time since, when I saw my first horse and cart from an upper window, and took it

for a dog drawing a wheelbarrow! Let me add in my own defence that both horse and cart were figured at

least five times their proper size in my blind fancy, which makes my mistake, I think, not so very stupid after

If I could trust my eyes, I should say I produced exactly the contrary effect on himI made him melancholy.

But I don't trust my eyes. They must be deceiving me when they tell me that he looked, in my company, a

Or is it, that he sees and feels something changed in Me? I could scream with vexation and rage against

myself. Here is my Oscarand yet he is not the Oscar I knew when I was blind. Contradictory as it seems, I

used to understand how he looked at me, when I was unable to see it. Now that I can see it, I ask myself, Is

this really love that is looking at me in his eyes? or is it something else? How should I know? I knew when I

had only my own fancy to tell me. But now, try as I may, I cannot make the old fancy and the new sight serve

me in harmony both together. I am afraid he sees that I don't understand him. Oh, dear! dear! why did I not

meet my good old Grosse, and become the new creature that he has made me, before I met Oscar? I should

have had no blind memories and prepossessions to get over then. I shall become used to my new self, I hope

and believe, with timeand that will accustom me to my new impressions of Oscarand so it may all come

right in the end. It is all wrong enough now. He put his arm round me, and gave me a little tender squeeze,

while we were following Miss Batchford down to the diningroom this afternoon. Nothing in me answered to

Here is a tear on the paper. What a fool I am! Why can't I write about something else?

I sent my second letter to my father today; telling him of Oscar's return from abroad, and taking no notice of

his not having replied to my first letter. The only way to manage my father is not to take notice, and to let

him come right by himself. I showed Oscar my letterwith a space left at the end for his postscript. While

he was writing it, he asked me to get something which happened to be upstairs in my room. When I came

back, he had sealed the envelopeforgetting to show me his postscript. It was not worth while to open the

[Note.I must trouble you with a copy of what Nugent really did write. It shows why he sent her out of the

room, and closed the envelope before she could come back. The postscript is also worthy of notice, in this

Thus Nugent writes, in Oscar's name and character, to the rector of Dimchurch. (I have already mentioned, as

you will see in the twentysecond chapter, that a close similarity of handwriting was one among the other

"Lucilla's letter will have told you that I have come to my senses, and that I am again paying my addresses to

her as her affianced husband. My principal object in adding these lines is to propose that we should forget the

"Nugent has behaved nobly. He absolves me from the engagements towards him into which I so rashly

entered, at our last interview before I left Browndown. Most generously and amply he has redeemed his

pledge to Madame Pratolungo to discover the place of my retreat and to restore me to Lucilla. For the present

"If you favor me with a reply to this, I must warn you to be careful how you write; for Lucilla is sure to ask to

see your letter. Remember that she only supposes me to have returned to her after a brief absence from

England, caused by a necessity for joining my brother on the Continent. It will be also desirable to say

nothing on the subject of my unfortunate peculiarity of complexion. I have made it all right with Lucilla, and

she is getting accustomed to me. Still, the subject is a sore one; and the less it is referred to the better.

Unless I add a word of explanation here, you will hardly appreciate the extraordinary skillfulness with which

Written in Oscar's character (and representing Nugent as having done all that he had promised me to do) it

designedly omits the customary courtesy of Oscar's style. The object of this is to offend Mr. Finchwith

what end in view you will presently see. The rector was the last man in existence to dispense with the

necessary apologies and expressions of regret from a man engaged to his daughter, who had left her as Oscar

had left herno matter how the circumstances might appear to excuse him. The curt, offhand postscript

signed "Oscar" was the very thing to exasperate the wound already inflicted on Mr. Finch's selfesteem, and

to render it at least probable that he would reconsider his intention of himself performing the marriage

ceremony. In the event of his refusal, what would happen? A stranger, entirely ignorant of which was Nugent

But even the cleverest people are not always capable of providing for every emergency. The completest plot

The postscript, as you have seen, was a little masterpiece. But it nevertheless exposed the writer to a danger

which (as the Journal will tell you) he only appreciated at its true value when it was too late to alter his mind.

Finding himself forced, for the sake of appearances, to permit Lucilla to inform her father of his arrival at

Ramsgate, he was now obliged to run the risk of having that important piece of domestic news

communicatedeither by Mr. Finch or by his wifeto no less a person than myself. You will remember

that worthy Mrs. Finch, when we parted at the rectory, had asked me to write to her while I was abroadand

you will see, after the hint I have given you, that clever Mr. Nugent is beginning already to walk upon

September 3rd.Oscar has (I suppose) forgotten something which he ought to have included in his postscript

More than two hours after I had sent it to the post, he asked if the letter had gone. For the moment, he looked

annoyed when I said, Yes. But he soon recovered himself. It mattered nothing (he said); he could easily write

again. "Talking of letters," he added, "do you expect Madame Pratolungo to write to you?" (This time it was

he who referred to her!) I told him that there was not much chance, after what had passed on her side and on

mine, of her writing to meand then tried to put some of those questions about her which he had once

already requested me not to press yet. For the second time, he entreated me to defer the discussion of that

unpleasant subject for the presentand yet, with a curious inconsistency, he made another inquiry relating to

"Do you think she is likely to be in correspondence with your father, or your stepmother, while she is out of

"I should doubt her writing to my father," I said. "But she might correspond with Mrs. Finch."

He considered a littleand then turned the talk to the topic of our residence at Ramsgate next.

He came back to me, and took my handmy cold insensible hand that won't feel his touch as it ought!

"Let me be your husband, Lucilla," he whispered; "and I will live at Ramsgate if you likefor your sake."

Although there was everything to please me in those words, there was something that startled meI cannot

describe itin his look and manner when he said them. I made no answer at the moment. He went on.

"Why should we not be married at once?" he asked. We are both of age. We have only ourselves to think of."

[Note.Alter his words as follows: "Why should we not be married before Madame Pratolungo can hear of

my arrival at Ramsgate?"and you will rightly interpret his motives. The situation is now fast reaching its

climax of peril. Nugent's one chance is to persuade Lucilla to marry him before any discoveries can reach my

ears, and before Grosse considers her sufficiently recovered to leave Ramsgate.P.]

"You forget," I answered, more surprised than ever; "we have my father to think of. It was always arranged

"We shall wait a long time, I am afraid," he said, "if we wait until your father marries us."

"When we enter on the painful subject of Madame Pratolungo," he replied, "I will tell you. In the meantime,

The same unpleasant smile showed itself again in his face. He abruptly dropped the conversation, and went to

All this happened yesterday evening. I went to bed, sadly dissatisfied with somebody. Was it with Oscar? or

Today, we went out together for a walk on the cliffs. What a delight it was to move through the fresh briny

air, and see the lovely sights on every side of me! Oscar enjoyed it too. All through the first part of our walk,

he was charming, and I was more in love with him than ever. On our return, a little incident occurred which

I proposed returning by the sands. Ramsgate is still crowded with visitors; and the animated scene on the

beach in the later part of the day has attractions for me, after my blind life, which it does not (I dare say)

possess for people who have always enjoyed the use of their eyes. Oscar, who has a nervous horror of

crowds, and who shrinks from contact with people not so refined as himself, was surprised at my wishing to

mix with what he called "the mob on the sands." However, he said he would go, if I particularly wished it. I

All sorts of diversions were going on. Monkeys, organs, girls on stilts, a conjurer, and a troop of negro

minstrels, were all at work to amuse the visitors. I thought the varied color and bustling enjoyment of the

crowd, with the bright blue sea beyond, and the glorious sunshine overhead, quite delightfulI declare I felt

as if two eyes were not half enough to see with! A nice old lady, sitting near, entered into conversation with

me; hospitably offering me biscuits and sherry out of her own bag. Oscar, to my disappointment, looked quite

disgusted with all of us. He thought my nice old lady vulgar; and he called the company on the beach "a herd

of snobs." While he was still muttering under his breath about the "mixture of low people," he suddenly cast a

sidelook at some person or thingI could not at the moment tell whichand, rising, placed himself so as

to intercept my view of the promenade on the sands immediately before me. I happened to have noticed, at

the same moment, a lady approaching us in a dress of a peculiar color; and I pulled Oscar on one side, to look

at her as she passed in front of me. "Why do you get in my way?" I asked. Before he could answer the

question the lady passed, with two lovely children, and with a tall man at her side. My eyes, looking first at

the lady and the children, found their way next to the gentlemanand saw repeated in his face, the same

blackblue complexion which had startled me in the face of Oscar's brother, when I first opened my eyes at

the rectory! For the moment I felt startled againmore, as I believe, by the unexpected repetition of the blue

face in the face of a stranger, than by the ugliness of the complexion itself. At any rate, I was composed

enough to admire the lady's dress, and the beauty of the children, before they had passed beyond my range of

view. Oscar spoke to me, while I was looking at them, in a tone of reproach for which, as I thought, there was

"I tried to spare you," he said. "You have yourself to thank, if that man has frightened you."

Oscar looked at me very attentively; and sat down again, without saying a word more.

The goodhumoured old woman, on my other side, who had seen and heard all that had passed, began to talk

of the gentleman with the discolored face, and of the lady and the children who accompanied him. He was a

retired Indian officer, she said. The lady was his wife, and the two beautiful children were his own children.

"It seems a pity that such a handsome man should be disfigured in that way," my new acquaintance remarked.

"But still, it don't matter much, after all. There he is, as you see, with a fine woman for a wife, and with two

lovely children. I know the landlady of the house where they lodgeand a happier family you couldn't lay

your hand on in all England. That is my friend's account of them. Even a blue face don't seem such a dreadful

I entirely agreed with the old lady. Our talk seemed, for some incomprehensible reason, to irritate Oscar. He

"Your aunt will be wondering what has become of us," he said. "Surely you have had enough of the mob on

I had not had enough of it, and I should have been quite content to have made one of the mob for some time

longer. But I saw that Oscar would be seriously vexed if I persisted in keeping my place. So I took leave of

He said nothing more, until we had threaded our way out of the crowd. Then he returned, without any reason

for it that I could discover, to the subject of the Indian officer, and to the remembrance which the stranger's

"I don't understand your telling me you were not frightened when you saw that man," he said. "You were

"I was terribly frightened by my own imagination, before I saw him," I answered. "After I saw him, I soon got

There is something excessively provokingat least to mein being told to my face that I have said

something which is not worthy of belief. It was not a very becoming act on my part (after what he had told

me in his letter about his brother's infatuation) to mention his brother. I ought not to have done it. I did it, for

"I say what I mean," I replied. "Before I knew what you told me about your brother, I was going to propose to

you, for your sake and for his, that he should live with us after we were married."

Oscar suddenly stopped. He had given me his arm to lead me through the crowdhe dropped it now.

I denied being angry with him; I declared, once more, that I was only speaking the truth.

"You really mean," he went on, "that you could have lived comfortably with my brother's blue face before

"Quite comfortablyif he would have been my brother too." Oscar pointed to the house in which my aunt

"You are close at home," he said, speaking in an odd muffled voice, with his eyes on the ground. "I want a

Jealous of his brother! There is something unnatural, something degrading in such jealousy as that. I am

ashamed of myself for thinking it of him. And yet what else could his conduct mean?

[Note.It is for me to answer that question. Give the miserable wretch his due. His conduct meant, in one

plain wordremorse. The only excuse left that he could make to his own conscience for the infamous part

which he was playing, was thisthat his brother's personal disfigurement presented a fatal obstacle in the

way of his brother's marriage. And now Lucilla's own words, Lucilla's own actions, had told him that Oscar's

face was no obstacle to her seeing Oscar perpetually in the familiar intercourse of domestic life. The torture

of selfreproach which this discovery inflicted on him, drove him out of her presence. His own lips would

have betrayed him, if he had spoken a word more to her at that moment. This is no speculation of mine. I

It is night again. I am in my bedroomtoo nervous and too anxious to go to rest yet. Let me employ myself

Oscar came a little before dinnertime; haggard and pale, and so absent in mind that he hardly seemed to

know what he was talking about. No explanations passed between us. He asked my pardon for the hard things

he had said, and the illtemper he had shown, earlier in the day. I readily accepted his excusesand did my

best to conceal the uneasiness which his vacant, preoccupied manner caused me. All the time he was

speaking to me, he was plainly thinking of something elsehe was more unlike the Oscar of my blind

remembrances than ever. It was the old voice talking in a new way: I can only describe it to myself in those

As for his manner, I know it used to be always more or less quiet and retiring in the old days: but was it ever

so hopelessly subdued and depressed, as I have seen it today? Useless to ask! In the bygone time, I was not

able to see it. My past judgment of him and my present judgment of him have been arrived at by such totally

different means, that it seems useless to compare them. Oh, how I miss Madame Pratolungo! What a relief,

what a consolation it would have been, to have said all this to her, and to have heard what she thought of it in

There is, however, a chance of my finding my way out of some of my perplexities, at any rateif I can only

Oscar seems to have made up his mind at last to enter into the explanations which he has hitherto withheld

from me. He has asked me to give him a private interview in the morning. The circumstances which led to his

making this request have highly excited my curiosity. Something is evidently going on under the surface, in

On returning to the house, after Oscar had left me, I found that a letter from Grosse had arrived by the

afternoon post. My dear old surgeon wrote to say that he was coming to see meand added in a postscript

that he would arrive the next day at luncheontime. Past experience told me that this meant a demand on my

aunt's housekeeping for all the good things that it could produce. (Ah, dear! I thought of Madame Pratolungo

and the Mayonnaise. Will those times never come again?) Wellat dinner, I announced Grosse's visit;

My aunt looked up from her plate with a little startnot interested, as I was prepared to hear, in the serious

question of luncheon, but in the opinion which my medical adviser was likely to give of the state of my

"I am anxious to hear what Mr. Grosse says about you tomorrow," the old lady began. "I shall insist on his

giving me a far more complete report of you than he gave last time. The recovery of your sight appears to me,

"Do you want me to be cured, aunt, because you want to get away?" I asked. "Are you weary of Ramsgate?"

Miss Batchford's quick temper flashed at me out of Miss Batchford's bright old eyes.

"I am weary of keeping a letter of yours," she answered, with a look of disgust.

"Yes. A letter which is only to be given to you, when Mr. Grosse pronounces that you are quite yourself

Oscarwho had not taken the slightest interest in the conversation thus farsuddenly stopped, with his fork

"What letter?" I asked. "Who gave it to you? Why am I not to see it until I am quite myself again?"

Miss Batchford obstinately shook her head three times, in answer to those three questions.

"I hate secrets and mysteries," she said impatiently. "This is a secret and a mysteryand I long to have done

All my entreaties were of no avail. My aunt's quick temper had evidently led her into committing an

imprudence of some sort. Having done that, she was now provokingly determined not to make bad worse.

Nothing that I could say would induce her to open her lips on the subject of the mysterious letter. "Wait till

As for Oscar, this little incident appeared to have an effect on him which added immensely to the curiosity

He listened with breathless attention while I was trying to induce Miss Batchford to answer my questions.

When I gave it up, he pushed away his plate, and ate no more. On the other hand (though generally the most

temperate of men) he drank a great deal of wine, both at dinner and after. In the evening, he made so many

mistakes in playing cards with my aunt, that she dismissed him from the game in disgrace. He sat in a corner

for the rest of the time, pretending to listen while I was playing the pianoreally lost to me and my music;

When he took his leave, he whispered these words in my ear; anxiously pressing my hand while he spoke:

On that, he left me. But one question has pursued me ever since. Does Oscar know the writer of the

mysterious letter? I firmly believe he does. Tomorrow will prove whether I am right or wrong. How I long

I MARK this day as one of the saddest days of my life. Oscar has shown Madame Pratolungo to me, in her

true colors. He has reasoned out this miserable matter with a plainness which it is impossible for me to resist.

I have thrown away my love and my confidence on a false woman: there is no sense of honor, no feeling of

gratitude or of delicacy in her nature. And I once thought herit sickens me to recall it! I will see her no

[Note.Did it ever occur to you to be obliged to copy out, with your own hand, this sort of opinion of your

own character? I can recommend the sensation produced as something quite new, and the temptation to add a

line or two on your own account to be as nearly as possible beyond mortal resistance.P.]

He took me to the west pier. At that hour of the morning (excepting a few sailors who paid no heed to us) the

place was a solitude. It was one of the loveliest days of the season. When we were tired of pacing to and fro,

we could sit down under the mellow sunshine, and enjoy the balmy sea air. In that pure light, with all those

lovely colors about us, there was something, to my mind, horribly and shamefully out of place in the talk that

engrossed ustalk that still turned, hour after hour, on nothing but plots and lies, cruelty, ingratitude, and

I managed to ask my first question so as to make him enter on the subject at oncewithout wasting time in

"When my aunt mentioned that letter at dinner yesterday," I said, "I fancied that you knew something about

"Very nearly right," he answered. "I can't say I knew anything about it. I only suspected that it was the

I disagreed with him at the outset. Madame Pratolungo and my aunt had quarreled about politics. Any

correspondence between thema confidential correspondence especiallyseemed to be one of the most

unlikely things that could take place. I asked Oscar if he could guess what the letter contained, and why it

"I can't guess at the contentsI can only guess at the object of the letter," he said.

"The object which she has had in view from the firstto place every possible obstacle in the way of my

We were walking, while these words were passing between us. When I said that, he stopped, and looked at

"I believed your letter," I replied; "and I shared your opinion of her as long as she was in the same house with

me. Her presence fed my anger and my horror of her in some way that I can't account for. Now she has left

menow I have had time to thinkthere is something in her absence that pleads for her, and tortures me

with doubts if I have done right. I can't explain itI don't understand it. I only know that so it is."

He still looked at me more and more attentively. "Your good opinion of her must have been very firmly

rooted to assert itself in this obstinate manner," he said. "What can she have done to deserve it?"

If I had looked back through all my old recollections of her, and had recalled them one by one, it would only

have ended in making me cry. And yet, I felt that I ought to stand up for her as long as I could. I managed to

"I will tell you what she did," I said, "after I received your letter. Fortunately for me, she was not very well

that morning; and she breakfasted in bed. I had plenty of time to compose myself, and to caution Zillah (who

read your letter to me), before we met for the first time that day. On the previous day, I had felt hurt and

offended with her for the manner in which she accounted for your absence from Browndown. I thought she

was not treating me with the same confidence which I should have placed in her, if our positions had been

reversed. When I next saw her, having your warning in my mind, I made my excuses, and said what I thought

she would expect me to say, under the circumstances. In my excitement and my wretchedness, I daresay I

overacted my part. At any rate, I roused the suspicion in her that something was wrong. She not only asked

me if anything had happened, she went the length of saying, in so many words, that she thought she saw a

change in me. I stopped it there, by declaring that I did not understand her. She must have seen that I was not

telling the truth: she must have known as well as I knew that I was concealing something from her. For all

that, not one word more escaped her lips. A proud delicacyI saw it as plainly in her face, as I now see

youa proud delicacy silenced her; she looked wounded and hurt. I have been thinking of that look, since I

have been here. I have asked myself (what did not occur to me at the time) if a false woman, who knew

herself to be guilty, would have behaved in that way? Surely a false woman would have set her wits against

mine, and have tried to lead me into betraying to her what discoveries I had really made? Oscar! that delicate

silence, that wounded look, will plead for her when I think of her in her absence! I can not feel as satisfied as

I once did, that she is the abominable creature you declare her to be. I know you are incapable of deceiving

meI know you believe what you say. But is it not possible that appearances have misled you? Can you

Without answering me, he suddenly stopped at a seat under the stone parapet of the pier, and signed to me to

sit down by him. I obeyed. Instead of looking at me, he kept his head turned away; looking out over the sea. I

He turned towards me again, as abruptly as he had turned away. His eyes wandered; his face was pale.

"You are a good generous creature," he said, in a confused hasty way. "Let us talk of something else."

"No!" I answered. "I am too deeply interested in knowing the truth to talk of anything else."

His color changed again at that. His face flushed; he gave a heavy sigh as one does sometimes, when one is

He rose again. The nearer he was to telling me all that he had kept concealed from me thus far, the harder it

I silently rose on my side, and put my arm in his. We walked on slowly towards the end of the pier. Arrived

there, he stood still, and spoke those hard first wordslooking out over the broad blue waters: not looking at

"I won't ask you to take anything for granted, on my assertion only," he began. "The woman's own words, the

"You first made me suspect her, by what you said of her at Browndown," he answered. "Now carry your

memory back to the time I have already mentioned in my letterwhen she betrayed herself to you in the

rectory garden. Is it true that she said you would have fallen in love with Nugent, if you had met him first

"It is true that she said it," I answered. "At a moment," I added, "when her temper had got the better of

"Advance the hour a little," he went on, "to the time when she followed you to Browndown. Was she still out

"Did she interfere, when Nugent took advantage of your blindness to make you believe you were talking to

I still defended her. "She might well have been angry," I said. "She had made her excuses to me in the kindest

My defence produced no effect on him. He summed it up coolly so far. "She compared me disadvantageously

with Nugent; and she allowed Nugent to personate me in speaking to you, without interfering to stop it. In

both these cases, her temper excuses and accounts for her conduct. Very good. We may, or may not, differ so

far. Before we go farther, let usif we canagree on one unanswerable fact. Which of us two brothers was

About that, there could be no doubt. I admitted at once that Nugent was her favorite. And more than this, I

remembered accusing her myself of never having done justice to Oscar from the first.

[Note.See the sixteenth chapter, and Madame Pratolungo's remark, warning you that you would hear of

"Bear that in mind," he said. "And now let us get to the time when we were assembled in your sittingroom,

to discuss the subject of the operation on your eyes. The question before us, as I remember it, was this. Were

you to marry me, before the operation? Or were you to keep me waiting until the operation had been

performed, and the cure was complete? How did Madame Pratolungo decide on that occasion? She decided

He surprised me by again accepting my view of the matter, without attempting to dispute it.

"We will say she did it out of sympathy with you," he proceeded. "Whatever her motives might be, the result

was the same. My marriage to you was indefinitely put off; and Madame Pratolungo voted for that delay."

"And your brother," I added, "took the other side, and tried to persuade me to marry you first. How can you

He interposed before I could say more. "Don't bring my brother into the inquiry," he said. "My brother, at that

time, could still behave like an honorable man, and sacrifice his own feelings to his duty to me. Let us strictly

confine ourselves, for the present, to what Madame Pratolungo said and did. And let us advance again to a

few minutes later on the same day, when our little domestic debate had ended. My brother was the first to go.

Then, you retired, and left Madame Pratolungo and me alone in the room. Do you remember?"

"You had bitterly disappointed me," I said. "You had shown no sympathy with my eagerness to be restored to

the blessing of sight. You made objections and started difficulties. I recollect speaking to you with some of

the bitterness that I feltblaming you for not believing in my future as I believed in it, and hoping as I

In those terms, I satisfied him that my memory of the events of that day was as clear as his own. He listened

"Madame Pratolungo shared your hard opinion of me, on that occasion," he proceeded; "and expressed it in

infinitely stronger terms. She betrayed herself to you in the rectory garden. She betrayed herself to me, after

you had left us together in the sittingroom. Her hasty temper again, beyond all doubt! I quite agree with you.

What she said to me in your absence, she would never have said if she had been mistress of herself."

I began to feel a little startled. "How is it that you now tell me of this for the first time?" I said. "Were you

Hitherto, I had kept my arm in his. I drew it out now. If his reply meant anything, it meant that he had once

"Remember," he said, "that I had unhappily offended you that day, and that you have not heard yet what

"This:'It would have been a happier prospect for Lucilla, if she had been going to marry your brother,

"Are you really sure?" I asked him. "Can she have said anything so cruel to you as that?"

Instead of answering me, he took his pocketbook from the breastpocket of his coatsearched in itand

produced a morsel of folded and crumpled paper. He opened the paper, and showed me some writing inside.

It was his writing. I had seen enough of his letters, since the recovery of my sight, to feel sure of that.

[Note.You have made your acquaintance with this letter already, in my thirtysecond chapter. I had said

those foolish words to Oscar (as you will find in my record of the time), under the influence of a natural

indignation, which any other woman with a spark of spirit in her would have felt in my place. Instead of

personally remonstrating with me, Oscar had (as usual) gone home, and written me a letter of expostulation.

Having, on my side, had time to cooland feeling the absurdity of our exchanging letters when we were

within a few minutes' walk of each otherI had gone straight to Browndown, on receiving the letter: first

crumpling it up, and (as I supposed) throwing it into the fire. After personally setting myself right with Oscar,

I had returned to the rectory; and had there heard that Nugent had been to see me in my absence, had waited a

little while alone in the sittingroom, and had gone away again. When I tell you that the letter which he was

now showing to Lucilla, was that same letter of Oscar's, which I had (as I believed) destroyed, you will

understand that I had thrown it into the fender instead of into the fire; and that I failed to see it in the fender

on my return, simply because Nugent had seen it first, and had taken it away with him. These particulars are

described in greater detail in the chapter to which I have referred; the letter itself being there inserted at full

length. However, I will save you the trouble of looking backI know how you hate trouble!by

transcribing literally what I find before me in the Journal. The original letter is pasted on the page: I will copy

it from the page for the second time. Am I not good to you? What author by profession would do as much for

I took the letter from him and read it. At my request, he has permitted me to keep it. The letter is my

justification for thinking of Madame Pratolungo as I now think of her. I place it here, before I write another

"MADAME PRATOLUNGO,You have distressed and pained me more than I can say. There are faults,

and serious ones, on my side, I know. I heartily beg your pardon for anything that I may have said or done to

offend you. I cannot submit to your hard verdict on me. If you knew how I adore Lucilla, you would make

allowances for meyou would understand me better than you do. I cannot get your last cruel words out of

my ears. I cannot meet you again without some explanation of them. You stabbed me to the heart, when you

said this evening that it would be a happier prospect for Lucilla if she had been going to marry my brother

instead of marrying me. I hope you did not really mean that? Will you please write and tell me whether you

My first proceeding, after reading those lines, was of course to put my arm again in his, and to draw him as

close to me as close could be. My second proceeding followed in due time. I asked, naturally, for Madame

I made him repeat thatonce, twice. Was it not incredible that such an appeal could be made to any woman

not utterly depravedand be left unnoticed? Twice he reiterated the same answer. Twice he declared on his

honor that not a line of reply had been returned to him. She was then utterly depraved? No! there was a last

"There is but one explanation of her conduct," I said. "She never received the letter. Where did you send it

"He may have lost it on the way, and have been afraid to tell you. Or the servant at the rectory may have

Oscar shook his head. "Quite impossible! I know Madame Pratolungo received the letter."

"I found it crumpled up in a corner inside the fender, in your sittingroom at the rectory."

"It had been opened. She had received it; she had read it; and she had not thrown quite far enough to throw it

into the fire. Now, Lucilla! Is Madame Pratolungo an injured woman? and am I a man who has slandered

There was another public seat, a few paces distant from us. I could stand no longer. I went away by myself

and sat down. A dull sensation possessed me. I could neither speak, nor cry. There I sat in silence; slowly

wringing my hands in my lap, and feeling the last ties that still bound me to the onceloved friend of former

He followed me, and stood over mehe summed her up in stern quiet tones, which carried conviction into

"Look back for the last time, Lucilla, at what this woman has said and done. You will find that the idea of

your marrying Nugent is, under one form or another, always present to her mind. Present alike when she

forgets herself, and speaks in a rageor when she reflects, and speaks with a purpose. At one time, she tells

you that you would have fallen in love with Nugent, if you had seen him first. At another time, she stands by

while Nugent is personating me to you, and never interferes to stop it. On a third occasion, she sees that you

are offended with me; and triumphs so cruelly in seeing it, that she tells me to my face, your prospect would

have been a much happier one, if you had been engaged to marry my brother instead of me. She is asked in

writing, civilly and kindly asked, to explain what she means by those abominable words? She has had time to

reflect since she spoke them; and what does she do? Does she answer me? No! She contemptuously tosses

my letter into the fireplace. Add to these plain facts what you yourself have observed. Nugent has all her

admiration; Nugent is her favorite: from the first, she has always disliked and wronged me. Add to this, again,

that Nugent (as I know for certain) privately confessed to her that he was himself in love with you. Look at

all these circumstancesand what plain conclusion follows? I ask you once moreIs Madame Pratolungo a

slandered woman? or am I right in warning you (as you once warned me) to beware of her?"

What could I do but own that he was right? It was due to him, and due to me, to close my heart to her, from

"After my experience of her in the past," he went on softly, "can you wonder that I dread what she may do in

the future? Has no such thing ever happened as the parting of true lovers by treachery which has secretly

undermined their confidence in each other. Is Madame Pratolungo not clever enough and unscrupulous

enough to undermine our confidence, and to turn against us, to the wickedest purpose, the influence which

she already possesses at the rectory? How do we know that she is not in communication with Nugent at this

I stopped him thereI could not endure it. "You have seen your brother," I said. "You have told me that you

"I have to dread Madame Pratolungo's influence, and my brother's infatuation for you," he answered. "The

promises which he has honestly made to me, are promises which I cannot depend on when my back is turned,

and when Madame Pratolungo may be with him in my absence. Something under the surface is going on

already! I don't like that mysterious letter, which is only to be shown to you on certain conditions. I don't like

your father's silence. He has had time to answer your letter. Has he done it? He has had time to answer my

Those were awkward questions. He had certainly left both our letters unansweredthus far. Still, the next

post might bring his reply. I persisted in taking this view; and I said so to Oscar. He persisted just as

"Suppose we go on to the end of the week," he said; "and still no letter from your father comes, for you, or

"I will admit that his silence shows a sad want of proper consideration for you," I replied.

"And there you will stop? You won't see (what I see) the influence of Madame Pratolungo making itself felt

He was pressing me rather hardly. I did my best, however, to tell him honestly what was passing in my mind.

"I can see," I said, "that Madame Pratolungo has behaved most cruelly to you. And I believe, after what you

have told me, that she would rejoice if I broke my engagement, and married your brother. But I can

not understand that she is mad enough to be actually plotting to make me do it. Nobody knows better than she

does how faithfully I love you, and how hopeless it would be to attempt to make me marry another man.

Would the stupidest woman living, who looked at you two brothers (knowing what she knows), be stupid

"If you had seen more of the world, Lucilla," he said, "you would know that a true love like yours is a

mystery to a woman like Madame Pratolungo. She doesn't believe in itshe doesn't understand it. She

knows herself to be capable of breaking any engagement, if the circumstances encouraged herand she

estimates your fidelity by her knowledge of her own nature. There is nothing in her experience of you, or in

her knowledge of my brother's disfigurement, to discourage such a woman from scheming to part us. She has

seen for herselfwhat you have already told methat you have got over your first aversion to him. She

knows that women as charming as you are, have over and over again married men far more personally

repulsive than my brother. Lucilla! something which is not to be outargued, and not to be contradicted, tells

me that her return to England will be fatal to my hopes, if that return finds you and me with no closer tie

between us than the tie that binds us now. Are these fanciful apprehensions, unworthy of a man? My darling!

worthy or not worthy, you ought to make allowances for them. They are apprehensions inspired by my love

Under those circumstances, I could make every allowance for himand I said so. He moved nearer to me;

"Would you relieve me from the anxieties under which I am suffering, if you could?"

"By giving me a husband's claim to you, Lucillaby consenting to marry me in London, in a fortnight's

I started back, and looked at him in amazement. For the moment, I was incapable of answering in any other

"I ask you to do nothing unworthy of you," he said. "I have spoken to a relative of mine living near

Londona married ladywhose house is open to you in the interval before our wedding day. When your

visit has been prolonged over a fortnight only, we can be married. Write home by all means to prevent them

from feeling anxious about you. Tell them that you are safe and happy, and under responsible and respectable

carebut say no more. As long as it is possible for Madame Pratolungo to make mischief between us,

conceal the place in which you are living. The instant we are married reveal everything. Let all your

His arm trembled round me; his face flushed deep; his eyes devoured me. Some women, in my place, might

have been offended; others might have been flattered. As for meI can trust the secret to these pagesI

"An elopement!" he repeated. "Between two engaged people who have only themselves to think of."

"I have my father to think of; and my aunt to think of," I said. "You are proposing to me to run away from

"I am asking you to pay a fortnight's visit at the house of a married ladyand to keep the knowledge of that

visit from the ears of the worst enemy you have, until you have become my wife," he answered. "Is there

anything so very terrible in my request that you should turn pale at it, and look at me in that frightened way?

Have I not courted you with your father's consent? Am I not your promised husband? Are we not free to

decide for ourselves? There is literally no reasonif it could be donewhy we should not be married

tomorrow. And you still hesitate? Lucilla! Lucilla! you force me to own the doubt that has made me

miserable ever since I have been here. Are you indeed as changed towards me as you seem? Do you really no

He rose, and walked away a few paces, leaning over the parapet with his face in his hands.

I sat alone, not knowing what to say or do. The uneasy sense in me that he had reason to complain of my

treating him coldly, was not to be dismissed from my mind by any effort that I could make. He had no right

to expect me to take the step which he had proposedthere were objections to it which any woman would

have felt in my place. Still, though I was satisfied of this, there was an obstinate something in me which

would take his part. It could not have been my conscience surely which said to me'There was a time when

his entreaties would have prevailed on you; there was a time when you would not have hesitated as you are

Whatever the influence was, it moved me to rise from my seat, and to join him at the parapet.

"You cannot expect me to decide on such a serious matter as this at once," I said. "Will you give me a little

"You are your own mistress," he rejoined bitterly. Why ask me to give you time? You can take any time you

"Give me till the end of the week," I went on. "Let me be sure that my father persists in not answering either

your letter or mine. Though I am my own mistress, nothing but his silence can justify me in going away

secretly, and being married to you by a stranger. Don't press me, Oscar! It isn't very long to the end of the

Something seemed to startle himsomething in my voice perhaps which told him that I was really

distressed. He looked round at me quickly, and caught me with the tears in my eyes.

"Don't cry, for God's sake!" he said. "It shall be as you wish. Take your time. We will say no more about it

"Grosse is coming today," he continued. "He mustn't see you looking as you are looking now. You must rest

I went back with him, feelingoh, so sad and sore at heart! My last faint hope of a renewal of my

oncepleasant intimacy with Madame Pratolungo was at an end. She stood revealed to me now as a woman

whom I ought never to have knowna woman with whom I could never again exchange a friendly word. I

had lost the companion with whom I had once been so happy; and I had pained and disappointed Oscar. My

life has never looked so wretched and so worthless to me as it looked today on the pier at Ramsgate.

"I will call again later," he said; "and hear what Grosse's report of you is, before he goes back to London.

A heavy footstep sounded suddenly behind us as he spoke. We both turned round. Time had slipped by more

rapidly than we had thought. There stood Herr Grosse, just arrived on foot from the railway station.

His first look at me seemed to startle and disappoint him. His eyes stared into mine through his spectacles

with an expression of surprise and anxiety which I had never seen in them before. Then he turned his head

and looked at Oscar with a sudden changea change, unpleasantly suggestive (to my fancy) of anger or

distrust. Not a word fell from his lips. Oscar was left to break the awkward silence. He spoke to Grosse.

"I won't disturb you and your patient now," he said. "I will come back in an hour's time."

"No! you will come in along with me, if you please. I have something, my young gentlemans, that I may want

to say to you." He spoke with a frown on his bushy eyebrows, and pointed in a very peremptory manner to

Oscar rang the bell. At the same moment my aunt, hearing us outside, appeared on the balcony above the

"Good morning, Mr. Grosse," she said. "I hope you find Lucilla looking her best. Only yesterday, I expressed

Grosse took off his hat sulkily to my aunt, and looked back again at melooked so hard and so long, that he

"Your aunt's opinions is not my opinions," he growled, close at my ear. "I don't like the looks of you, Miss.

The servant was waiting for us at the open door. I went an without making any answer. Grosse waited to see

Oscar enter the house before him. Oscar's face darkened as he joined me in the hall. He looked half angry,

half confused. Grosse pushed himself roughly between us, and gave me his arm. I went upstairs with him,

ARRIVED in the drawingroom, Grosse placed me in a chair near the window. He leaned forward, and

looked at me close; he drew back, and looked at me from a distance; he took out his magnifying glass, and

had a long stare through it at my eyes; he felt my pulse; dropped my wrist as if it disgusted him; and, turning

to the window, looked out in grim silence, without taking the slightest notice of any one in the room.

"Mr. Grosse!" she said sharply. "Have you nothing to tell me about your patient today? Do you find

He turned suddenly round from the window, and interrupted Miss Batchford without the slightest ceremony.

"I find her gone back, back, back!" he growled, getting louder and louder at each repetition of the word.

"When I sent her here, I said'Keep her comfortableeasy.' You have not kept her comfortableeasy.

Something has turned her poor little mind topsyturvies. What is it? Who is it?" He looked fiercely

backwards and forwards between Oscar and my auntthen turned my way, and putting his heavy hands on

my shoulders, looked down at me with an odd angry kind of pity in his face. "My childs is melancholick; my

childs is ill," he went on. "Where is our gootdear Pratolungo? What did you tell me about her, my

littlelofe, when I last saw you? You said she had gone aways to see her Papa. Send a telegramsand say I

At the repetition of Madame Pratolungo's name, Miss Batchford rose to her feet and stood (apparently)

"Am I to understand, sir," inquired the old lady, "that your extraordinary language is intended to cast a

"You are to understand this, madam. In the face of the goot seaairs, Miss your niece is fretting herself ill. I

sent her to this place, for to get a rosy face, for to put on a firm flesh. How do I find her? She has got nothing,

she has put on nothingshe is emphatically flabbypale. In this fine airs, she can be flabbypale but for one

reason. She is fretting herself about something or anodder. Is fretting herself goot for her eyes?

Hodamndamn! it is as bad for her eyes as bad can be. If you can do no better than this, take her aways

"You will understand, Lucilla, that it is impossible for me to notice such language as this in any other way

than by leaving the room. If you can bring Mr. Grosse to his senses, inform him that I will receive his

apologies and explanations in writing." Pronouncing these lofty words with her severest emphasis, Miss

Grosse took no notice of the offended lady: he only put his hands in his pockets, and looked out of window

once more. As the door closed, Oscar left the corner in which he had seated himself, not overgraciously,

Grosse was on the point of answering the question even less amiably than it had been putwhen I stopped

him by a look. "I want to speak to you," I whispered in his ear. He nodded, and, turning sharply to Oscar, put

Greatly to my surprise, Oscar submitted to be treated in this peremptory manner. He took his leave of me

silently, and left the room. Grosse drew a chair close to mine, and sat down by me in a comforting

"Now my gootgirls," he said. "What have you been fretting yourself about since I was last in this house?

I suppose he had exhausted his illtemper on my aunt and Oscar. He said those wordsmore than

kindlyalmost tenderly. His fierce eyes seemed to soften behind his spectacles; he took my hand and patted

There are some things written in these pages of mine which it was, of course, impossible for me to confide to

him. With those necessary reservationsand without entering on the painful subject of my altered relations

with Madame PratolungoI owned quite frankly how sadly changed I felt myself to be towards Oscar, and

how much less happy I was with him, in consequence of the change. "I am not ill as you suppose," I

explained. "I am only disappointed in myself, and a little downhearted when I think of the future." Having

opened it to him in this way, I thought it time to put the question which I had determined to ask when I next

"The restoration of my sight," I said, "has made a new being of me. In gaining the sense of seeing, have I lost

the sense of feeling which I had when I was blind? I want to know if it will come back when I have got used

to the novelty of my position? I want to know if I shall ever enjoy Oscar's society again, as I used to enjoy it

in the old days before you cured methe happy days, PapaGrosse, when I was an object of pity, and when

I had more to saybut at this place, Grosse (without meaning it, I am sure) suddenly stopped me. To my

amazement, he let go of my hand, and turned his face away sharply, as if he resented my looking at him. His

big head sank on his breast. He lifted his great hairy hands, shook them mournfully, and let them fall on his

knees. This strange behavior and the still stranger silence which accompanied it, made me so uneasy that I

insisted on his explaining himself. "What is the matter with you?" I said. "Why don't you answer me?"

He roused himself with a start, and put his arm round me, with a wonderful gentleness for a man who was so

"It is nothing, my pretty lofe," he said. "I am out of sort, as you call it. Your English climates sometimes

gives your English blue devil to foreign mens like me. I have got him nowan English blue devil in a

German inside. Soh! I shall go and walk him out, and come back emptycheerful, and see you again." He

rose, after this curious explanation, and attempted some sort of answera very odd oneto the question

which I had asked of him. "As to that odder thing," he went on, "yesindeedyes. You have hit your nail on

his head. It is, as you say, your seeings which has got in the way of your feelings. When your

seeingsfeelings has got used to one anodder, your seeings will stay where he is, your feelings will come

back to where they was; one will balance the odder; you will feel as you did; you will see as you didn't; all at

the same times, all jollynice again as before. You have my opinions. Now let me walk out my blue devil. I

Saying all this in a violent hurry, as if he was eager to get away, he gave me a kiss on the forehead, snatched

Does he persist in thinking me seriously ill? I am too weary to puzzle my brains in the effort to understand

my dear old surgeon. It is one o'clock in the morning; and I have still to write the story of all that happened

later in the day. My eyes are beginning to ache; and, strange to say, I have hardly been able to see the last two

or three lines I have written. They look as if the ink was fading from them. If Grosse knew what I am about at

this moment! His last words to me, when he went back to his patients in London, were:"No more readings!

no more writings till I come again!" It is all very well to talk in that way. I have got so used to my Journal

that I can't do without it. Nevertheless, I must stop nowfor the best of reasons. Though I have got three

[Note.I have purposely abstained from interrupting Lucilla's Journal until my extracts from it had reached

this place. Here the writer pauses, and gives me a chance; and here there are matters that must be mentioned,

You have seen how her faithful instinct still tries to reveal to my poor darling the cruel deception that is being

practiced on herand still tries in vain. In spite of herself, she shrinks from the man who is tempting her to

go away with himthough he pleads in the character of her betrothed husband. In spite of herself, she

detects the weak places in the case which Nugent has made out against methe absence of sufficient motive

for the conduct of which he accuses me, and the utter improbability of my plotting and intriguing (without

anything to gain by it) to make her marry the man who was not the man of her choice. She feels these

hesitations and difficulties. But what they really signify it is morally impossible for her to guess.

Thus far, no doubt, her strange and touching position has been plainly revealed to you. But can I feel quite so

sure that you understand how seriously she has been affected by the anxiety, disappointment, and suspense

which have combined together to torture her at this critical interval in her life?

I doubt it, for the sufficient reason that you have only had her Journal to enlighten you, and that her Journal

shows she does not understand it herself. As things are, it seems to be time for me to step on the stage, and to

discover to you plainly what her surgeon really thought of her, by telling you what passed between Grosse

I am writing now (as a matter of course) from information given to me, at an afterperiod, by the persons

themselves. As to particulars, the accounts vary. As to results, they both agree.

The discovery that Nugent was at Ramsgate necessarily took Grosse by surprise. With his previous

knowledge, however, of the situation of affairs at Dimchurch, he could be at no loss to understand in what

character Nugent had presented himself to Lucilla; and he could certainly not fail to understandafter what

he had seen and what she had herself told himthat the deception was, under present circumstances,

producing the worst possible effect on her mind. Arriving at this conclusion, he was not a man to hesitate

about the duty that lay before him. When he entered the room at the hotel in which Nugent was waiting, he

Grosse refused the chairbut consented to explain himself in terms variously reported by the two parties.

Combining the statements, and translating Grosse (in this grave matter) into plain English, I find that the

"As a professional man, Mr. Nugent, I invariably refuse to enter into domestic considerations connected with

my patients with which I have nothing to do. In the case of Miss Finch, my business is not with your family

complications. My business is to secure the recovery of the young lady's sight. If I find her health improving,

I don't inquire how or why. No matter what private and personal frauds you may be practicing upon her, I

have nothing to say to themmore, I am ready to take advantage of them myselfso long as their influence

is directly beneficial in keeping her morally and physically in the condition in which I wish her to be. But, the

instant I discover that this domestic conspiracy of yoursthis personation of your brother which once

quieted and comforted heris unfavorably affecting her health of body and her peace of mind, I interfere

between you in the character of her medical attendant, and stop it on medical grounds. You are producing in

my patient a conflict of feeling, whichin a nervous temperament like herscannot go on without serious

injury to her health. And serious injury to her health means serious injury to her eyes. I won't have thatI

tell you plainly to pack up and go. I meddle with nothing else. After what you have yourself seen, I leave you

to decide whether you will restore your brother to Miss Finch, or not. All I say is, Go. Make any excuse you

like, but go before you have done more mischief. You shake your head! Is that a sign that you refuse? Take a

day to think, before you make up your mind. I have patients in London to whom I am obliged to go back. But

the day after tomorrow, I shall return to Ramsgate. If I find you still here, I shall tell Miss Finch you are no

more Oscar Dubourg than I am. In her present state, I see less danger in giving her even that serious shock

than in leaving her to the slow torment of mind which you are inflicting by your continued presence in this

place. My last word is said. I go back by the next train, in an hour's time. Good morning, Mr. Nugent. If you

After this, the accounts vary. Nugent's statement asserts that he accompanied Grosse on his way back to Miss

Batchford's lodging, arguing the matter with him, and only leaving him at the door of the house. Grosse's

statement, on the other hand, makes no allusion to this. The disagreement between them is, however, of no

consequence here. It is admitted, on either side, that the result of the interview was the same. When Grosse

took the train for London, Nugent Dubourg was not at the station. The next entry in the Journal shows that he

You now know, from the narrative of the surgeon's own proceedings, how seriously he thought of his

patient's case, and how firmly he did his duty as a professional man. Having given you this necessary

information, I again retire, and leave Lucilla to take up the next link in the chain of events.P.]

September 5th. Six o'clock in the morning.A few hours of restless, broken sleepdisturbed by horrid

dreams, and waking over and over again with startings that seemed to shake me from head to foot. I can bear

it no longer. The sun is rising. I have got upand here I am at the writingtable, trying to finish the long

I have just been looking at the view from my windowand I notice one thing which has struck me. The mist

The seaview is almost invisible, it is so dim and dull. Even the objects about me in my room are nothing

like so plain as usual. The mist is stealing in no doubt through my open window. It gets between me and my

paper, and obliges me to bend down close over the page to see what I am about. When the sun is higher,

He was quite peremptory in ordering me not to overtask my eyesforbidding reading and writing, as I have

already mentioned. But, when I asked for his reasons, he had, for the first time in my experience of him, no

reasons to give. I have the less scruple about disobeying him, on that account. Still I am a little uneasy, I

confess, when I think of his strange behavior yesterday. He looked at me, in the oddest wayas if he saw

something in my face which he had never seen before. Twice he took his leave; and twice he returned,

doubtful whether he would not remain at Ramsgate, and let his patients in London take care of themselves.

His extraordinary indecision was put an end to at last by the arrival of a telegram which had followed him

from London. An urgent message, I suppose, from one of the patients. He went away in a bad temper and a

Like Grosse, he was not himselfhe too behaved strangely! First, he was so cold and so silent, that I thought

he was offended. Then he went straight to the other extreme, and became so loudly talkative, so

obstreperously cheerful, that my aunt asked me privately whether I did not suspect (as she did) that he had

been taking too much wine. It ended in his trying to sing to my accompaniment on the piano, and in his

breaking down. He walked away to the other end of the room without explanation or apology. When I

followed him there a little while after, he had a look that indescribably distressed mea look as if he had

been crying. Towards the end of the evening, my aunt fell asleep over her book, and gave us a chance of

speaking to each other in a little second room which opens out of the drawingroom in this house. It was I

who took the chancenot he. He was so incomprehensibly unwilling to go into the room and speak to me,

that I had to do a very unladylike thing. I mean that I had to take his arm, and lead him in myself, and entreat

"Is it? Ever since I have been here, I have doubted that you love me. It is getting to be an old complaint of

He was so cruel and so unjust, that I got up to leave him, without saying a word more. But, oh! he looked so

forlorn and so submissivesitting with his head down, and his hands crossed listlessly over his kneesthat

I could not find it in my heart to treat him harshly. Was I wrong? I don't know! I have no idea how to manage

menand no Madame Pratolungo now to teach me. Right or wrong, it ended in my sitting down by him

"You ought to beg my pardon," I said, "for thinking of me as you think, and talking to me as you talk."

"I do beg your pardon," he answered humbly. "I am sorry if I have offended you."

How could I resist that? I put my hand on his shoulder, and tried to make him lift up his head and look at me.

Surely, this was hard on meafter he had promised to give me till the end of the week to consider his

proposal? I took my hand off his shoulder. Hewho never used to displease or disappoint me when I was

"Do you wish to force me?" I asked, "after telling me this morning that you would give me time to reflect?"

He rose, on his sidelanguidly and mechanically, like a man who neither knew nor cared what he was

"Force you?" he repeated. "Did I say that? I don't know what I am talking about; I don't know what I am

doing. You are right and I am wrong. I am a miserable wretch, LucillaI am utterly unworthy of you. It

would be better for you if you never saw me again!" He paused; and taking me by both hands, looked

earnestly and sadly into my face. "Good night, my dear!" he saidand suddenly dropped my hands, and

I refused to say good nightI refused to let him go. His wanting to go was in itself a reproach to me. He had

Instead of answering, he gently lifted a long lock of my hair, which hung at the side of my neck. (My head, I

should add, had been dressed that evening on the oldfashioned plan, by my aunt's maidto please my

[Note.The keepsake had of course been given to the true Oscar, and was then, as it is now, still in his

possession. Notice, when he recovers himself, how quickly the false Oscar infers this, and how cleverly he

His face flushed deep; his eyes dropped before mine. I could see that he was ashamed of himselfI could

only conclude that he had forgotten it! A morsel of his hair was, at that moment, in a locket which I wore

round my neck. I had more I think, to doubt him than he had to doubt me. I was so mortified that I stepped

"Suppose I have been deprived of your keepsake?" he said. "Suppose somebody whom I would rather not

I instantly understood him. His miserable brother had taken it. My workbasket was close by. I cut off a lock

of my hair, and tied it at each end with a morsel of my favorite lightblue ribbon.

He caught me in his arms in a kind of frenzyholding me to him so violently that he hurt me; kissing me so

fiercely that he frightened me. Before I had recovered breath enough to speak to him, he had released me, and

had gone out in such headlong haste that he knocked down a little round table with books on it, and woke my

The old lady called for me in her most formidable voice, and showed me the family temper in its sourest

aspect. Grosse had gone back to London without making any apology to her; and Oscar had knocked down

her books. The indignation aroused by these two outrages called loudly for a victimand (no one else being

near at the moment) selected Me. Miss Batchford discovered for the first time that she had undertaken too

"I decline to accept the entire responsibility," said my aunt. "At my age, the entire responsibility is too much

for me. I shall write to your father, Lucilla. I always did, and always shall, detest him, as you know. His

views on politics and religion are (in a clergyman) simply detestable. Still he is your father; and it is a duty on

my part, after what that rude foreigner has said about your health, to offer to restore you to your father's

roofor, at least, to obtain your father's sanction to your continuing to remain under my care. This course, in

either case you will observe, relieves me from the entire responsibility. I am doing nothing to compromise

my position. My position is quite plain to me. I should have formally accepted your father's hospitality on the

occasion of your weddingif I had been well enough and if the wedding had taken place. It follows as a

matter of course that I may formally report to your father what the medical opinion is of your health.

However brutally it may have been given, it is a medical opinionand as such I am bound to communicate

Knowing but too well how bitterly my aunt's aversion to him is reciprocated by my father, I did my best to

combat Miss Batchford's resolutionwithout making matters worse by telling her what my motives really

were. With some difficulty I prevailed on her to defer the proposed report of me for a day or twoand we

parted for the night (the old lady's fits of temper are soon over) as good friends as usual.

This little episode in my narrative of events diverted my mind for the time from Oscar's strange conduct

yesterday evening. But once up here by myself in my own room, I have been thinking of it, or dreaming of it

(such horrid dreamsI cannot write them down!) almost incessantly from that time to this. When we meet

He was right yesterday. I am cold to him; there is some change in me towards him, which I don't understand

myself. My conscience accuses me, now I am aloneand yet, God knows, it is not my fault. Poor Oscar!

Poor me! I have never longed to see himsince we met at this placeas I long now. He sometimes comes

to breakfast. Will he come to breakfast today? Oh, how my eyes ache! and how obstinately the mist stops in

the room! Suppose I close the window, and go back to bed again for a little while?

Nine o'clock.The maid came in half an hour since, and woke me. She went to open the window as usual. I

At seven I was still writing in my Journal, and the mist was still over everything in the room. Persons in the

lower ranks of life are curiously unobservant of the aspects of Nature. I never (in the days of my blindness)

got any information from servants or laborers about the views round Dimchurch. They seemed to have no

eyes for anything beyond the range of the kitchen, or the ploughed field. I got out of bed, and took the maid

"There!" I said. "It is not quite so thick as it was some hours since. But there is the mist as plain as can be!"

The girl looked backwards and forwards in a state of bewilderment between me and the view.

"Mist?" she repeated. "Begging your pardon, Miss, it's a beautiful clear morningas I see it."

"There are two of them, Miss. A big ship, with three masts. And a little ship just behind, with one."

I looked along her finger, and strained my eyes to see. All I could make out was a dim greyish mist, with

something like a little spot or blur on it, at the place which the maid's finger indicated as the position

The idea struck me for the first time that the dimness which I had attributed to the mist, was, in plain truth,

the dimness in my own eyes. For the moment I was a little startled. I left the window, and made the best

excuse that I could to the girl. As soon as it was possible to dismiss her, I sent her away, and bathed my eyes

with one of Grosse's lotions, and then tried them again in writing this entry. To my relief, I can see to write

better than I did earlier in the morning. Still, I have had a warning to pay a little more attention to Grosse's

directions than I have hitherto done. Is it possible that he saw something in the state of my eyes which he was

afraid to tell me of? Nonsense! Grosse is not the sort of man who shrinks from speaking out. I have fatigued

Something has happened which I must positively set down in the history of my life. I am so vexed and so

angry! The maid, (wretched chattering fool!) has told my aunt what passed between us this morning at my

window. Miss Batchford has taken the alarm, and has insisted on writing, not only to Grosse, but to my

father. In the present embittered state of my father's feelings against my aunt, he will either leave her letter

unanswered, or he will offend her by an angry reply. In either case, I shall be the sufferer: my aunt's sense of

injurywhich cannot address itself to my fatherwill find a convenient object to assail in me. I shall never

hear the last of it. Being already nervous and dispirited, the prospect of finding myself involved in a new

family quarrel quite daunts me. I feel ungratefully inclined to run away from Miss Batchford, when I think of

Twelve o'clock.But one trial more was wanted to make my life here quite unendurable. The trial has come.

A letter from Oscar (sent by a messenger from his hotel) has just been placed in my hands. It informs me that

he has decided on leaving Ramsgate by the next train. The next train starts in forty minutes. Good God! what

My eyes are burning. I know it does them harm to cry. How can I help crying? It is all over between us, if I

let Oscar go away alonehis letter as good as tells me so. Oh, why have I behaved so coldly to him? I ought

to make any sacrifice of my own feelings to atone for it. And yet, there is an obstinate something in me that

I must drop the pen, and try if I can think. My eyes completely fail me. I can write no more.

Nugent's own assertion is, that he wrote it in a moment of remorse, to give her an opportunity of breaking the

engagement by which she innocently supposed herself to be held to him. He declares that he honestly

believed the letter would offend her, when he wrote it. The other interpretation of the document is, that

finding himself obliged to leave Ramsgateunder penalty (if he remained) of being exposed by Grosse as an

impostor, when the surgeon visited his patient on the next dayNugent seized the opportunity of making his

absence the means of working on Lucilla's feelings, so as to persuade her to accompany him to London. Don't

ask me which of these two conclusions I favor. For reasons which you will understand when you have come

to the end of my narrative, I would rather not express my opinion, either one way or the other.

"MY DARLING,After a sleepless night, I have decided on leaving Ramsgate, by the next train that starts

after you receive these lines. Last night's experience has satisfied me that my presence here (after what I said

to you on the pier) only distresses you. Some influence that is too strong for you to resist has changed your

heart towards me. When the time comes for you to determine whether you will be my wife on the conditions

that I have proposed, I see but too plainly that you will say No. Let me make it less hard for you, my love, to

do that, by leaving you to write the wordinstead of saying it to me. If you wish for your freedom, cost me

what it may, I will absolve you from your engagement. I love you too dearly to blame you. My address in

A few lines more in the Journal follow the lines last quoted in this place. Except a word or two, here and

there, it is impossible any longer to decipher the writing. The mischief done to her eyes by her reckless use of

them, by her fits of crying, by her disturbed nights, by the longcontinued strain on her of agitation and

suspense, has evidently justified the worst of those unacknowledged forebodings which Grosse felt when he

saw her. The last lines of the Journal are, as writing, actually inferior to her worst penmanship when she was

However, the course which she ended in taking on receipt of the letter which you have just read, is

sufficiently indicated by a note of Nugent's writing, left at Miss Batchford's residence at Ramsgate by a porter

from the railway. Afterevents make it necessary to preserve this note also. It runs thus:

"MADAM,I write, by Lucilla's wish, to beg that you will not be anxious on discovering that your niece has

left Ramsgate. She accompanies me, at my express request, to the house of a married lady who is a relative of

mine, and under whose care she will remain, until the time arrives for our marriage. The reasons which have

led to her taking this step, and which oblige her to keep her new place of residence concealed for the present,

will be frankly stated to you and to her father on the day when we are man and wife. In the meantime, Lucilla

begs that you will excuse her abrupt departure, and that you will be so good as to send this letter on to her

father. Both you and he will, I hope, remember that she is of an age to act for herself, and that she is only

hastening her marriage with a man to whom she has been long engaged, with the sanction and approval of her

This letter was delivered at luncheontimealmost at the moment when the servant had announced to her

mistress that Miss Finch was nowhere to be found, and that her travelingbag had disappeared from her

room. The London train had then started. Miss Batchford, having no right to interfere, decidedafter

consultation with a friendon at once traveling to Dimchurch, and placing the matter in Mr. Finch's

LUCILLA'S Journal has told you all that Lucilla can tell. Permit me to reappear in these pages. Shall I say,

with your favorite English clown, reappearing every year in your barbarous English pantomime, "Here I am

again: how do you do?" NoI had better leave that out. Your clown is one of your national institutions. With

this mysterious source of British amusement let no foreign person presume to trifle.

You cannot be expected to feel any interest in good Papa. I will pass over this venerable victim of the amiable

delusions of the heart, as rapidly as respect and affection will permit. The duel (I hope you remember the

duel?) had been fought with pistols; and the bullet had not been extracted when I joined my sisters at the

sufferer's bedside. He was delirious and did not know me. Two days later, the removal of the bullet was

accomplished by the surgeon in attendance. For a time, he improved after this. Then there was a relapse. It

was only on the first of September that we were permitted to hope he might still be spared to us.

On that date, I was composed enough to think again of Lucilla, and to remember Mrs. Finch's polite request

I wrote briefly, telling the damp lady of the rectory (only at greater length) what I have told here. My main

motive in doing this was, I confess, to obtain, through Mrs. Finch, some news of Lucilla. After posting the

letter, I attended to another duty which I had neglected while my father was in danger of death. I went to the

person to whom my lawyer had recommended me, to institute that search for Oscar which I had determined

to set on foot when I left London. The person was connected with the police, in the capacity (as nearly as I

can express it in English) of a sort of private superintendentnot officially recognized, but secretly trusted

When he heard of the time that had elapsed without any discovery of the slightest trace of the fugitive, he

looked grave; and declared, honestly enough, that he doubted if he could reward my confidence in him by

proving himself to be of the slightest service to me. Seeing, however, that I was earnestly bent on making

some sort of effort, he put a last question to me in these terms:"You have not described the gentleman yet.

"There is something very remarkable, sir," I answered. "Describe it exactly, ma'am, if you please."

I described Oscar's complexion. My excellent superintendent showed encouraging signs of interest as he

listened. He was a most elegantlydressed gentleman, with the gracious manners of a prince. It was quite a

"If the missing man has passed through France," he said, "with such a remarkable face as that, there is a fair

chance of finding him. I will set preliminary inquiries going at the railway station, at the steampacket office,

"News already, ma'am. The clerk at the steampacket office perfectly well remembers selling a ticket to a

stranger with a terrible blue face. Unhappily, his memory is not equally good, as to other matters. He cannot

accurately call to mind, either the name of the stranger, or the place for which the stranger embarked. We

know that he must either have gone to some port in Italy, or to some port in the East. And, thus far, we know

"I proposewith your permissionsending personal descriptions of the gentleman, by telegraph, to the

different ports in Italy first. If nothing is heard of him in reply, we will try the ports in the East next. That is

the course which I have the honor of submitting to your consideration. Do you approve of it?"

I cordially approved of it; and waited for the results with all the patience that I could command.

The next day passed, and nothing happened. My unhappy father got on very slowly. The vile woman who had

caused the disaster (and who had run off with his antagonist) was perpetually in his mind; disturbing him and

keeping him back. Why is a destroying wretch of this sort, a pitiless, treacherous, devouring monster in

female form, allowed to be out of prison? You shut up in a cage a poor tigress, who only eats you when she is

hungry, and can't provide for her dear little children in any other wayand you let the other and far more

dangerous beast of the two range at large under protection of the law! Ah, it is easy to see that the men make

the laws. Never mind. The women are coming to the front. Wait a little. The tigresses on two legs will have a

On the fourth of the month, the superintendent wrote to me. More news of the lost Oscar already!

The blue man had disembarked at Genoa; and had been traced to the station of the railway running to Turin.

More inquiries had been, thereupon, sent by telegraph to Turin. In the meantime, and in the possible event of

the missing person returning to England by way of Marseilles, experienced men, provided with a personal

description of him, would be posted at various public places, to pass in review all travelers arriving either by

land or seaand to report to me if the right traveler appeared. Once more, my princely superintendent

submitted this course to my considerationand waited for my approvaland got it, with my admiration

My sisters broke down, poor souls, under their anxieties. It all fell as usual on my shoulders. Day by day, my

prospect of returning to England seemed to grow more and more remote. Not a line of reply reached me from

Mrs. Finch. This in itself fidgeted and disturbed me. Lucilla was now hardly ever out of my thoughts. Over

and over again, my anxiety urged me to run the risk, and write to her. But the same obstacle always raised

itself in my way. After what had happened between us, it was impossible for me to write to her directly,

without first restoring myself to my former place in her estimation. And I could only do this, by entering into

particulars which, for all I knew to the contrary, it might still be cruel and dangerous to reveal.

As for writing to Miss Batchford, I had already tried the old lady's patience in that way, before leaving

England. If I tried it again, with no better excuse for a second intrusion than my own anxieties might suggest,

the chances were that this uncompromising royalist would throw my letter in the fire, and treat her republican

correspondent with contemptuous silence. Grosse was the third, and last, person from whom I might hope to

obtain information. Butshall I confess it?I did not know what Lucilla might have told him of the

estrangement between us, and my pride (remember, if you please, that I am a povertystricken foreigner)

However, by the eleventh of the month, I began to feel my suspense so keenly, and to suffer under such

painful doubts of what Nugent might be doing in my absence, that I resolved at all hazards on writing to

Grosse. It was at least possible, as I calculatedand the Journal will show you I calculated rightthat

Lucilla had only told him of my melancholy errand at Marseilles, and had mentioned nothing more. I had just

opened my deskwhen our doctor in attendance entered the room, and announced the joyful intelligence

"Not immediately. You are his favorite nurseyou must gradually accustom him to the idea of your going

"I will do nothing sudden. Only tell me, when it will be safeabsolutely safefor me to go?"

I shut up my writingdesk. Within a few days, I might now hope to be in England as soon as I could receive

Grosse's answer at Marseilles. Under these circumstances, it would be better to wait until I could make my

inquiries, safely and independently, in my own proper person. Comparison of dates will show that if I

had written to the German oculist, it would have been too late. It was now the eleventh; and Lucilla had left

All this time but one small morsel of news rewarded our inquiries after Oscarand even that small morsel

It was said that he had been seen at a military hospitalthe hospital of Alessandria, in Piedmont, I

thinkacting, under the surgeons, as attendant on the badlywounded men who had survived the famous

campaign of France and Italy against Austria. (Bear in mind, if you please, that I am writing of the year

eighteen hundred and fiftynine, and that the peace of Villafranca was only signed in the July of that year.)

Occupation as hospitalmannurse was, to my mind, occupation so utterly at variance with Oscar's

temperament and character, that I persisted in considering the intelligence thus received of him to be on the

On the seventeenth of the month, I had got my passport regulated, and had packed up the greater part of my

Carefully as I had tried to accustom his mind to the idea, my poor father remained so immovably reluctant to

let me leave him, that I was obliged to consent to a sort of compromise. I promised, when the business which

took me to England was settled, to return again to Marseilles, and to travel back with him to his home in

Paris, as soon as he was fit to be moved. On this condition, I gained permission to go. Poor as I was, I

infinitely preferred charging my slender purse with the expense of the double journey, to remaining any

longer in ignorance of what was going on at Ramsgateor at Dimchurch, as the case might be. Now that my

mind was free from anxiety about my father, I don't know which tormented me mostmy eagerness to set

myself right with my sisterfriend, or my vague dread of the mischief which Nugent might have done while

my back was turned. Over, and over again I asked myself, whether Miss Batchford had, or had not, shown

my letter to Lucilla. Over and over again, I wondered whether it had been my happy privilege to reveal

Towards the afternoon, on the seventeenth, I went out alone to get a breath of fresh air, and a look at the

shopwindows. I don't care who or what she may behigh or low; handsome or ugly; young or oldit

"We expect an Italian steamship to arrive in port before the evening," said the superintendent. "Who knows

He bowed and left me. I felt no great elation on contemplating the barren prospect which his last words had

placed before me. So many steamers had arrived at Marseilles, without bringing any news of the missing

man, that I attached very little importance to the arrival of the Italian ship. However, I had nothing to doI

wanted a walkand I thought I might as well stroll down to the port, and see the vessel come in.

I found our man employed to investigate travelers arriving by sea, punctually at his post. His influence broke

through the vexatious French rules and regulations which forbid all freedom of public movement within

official limits, and procured me a place in the room at the customhouse through which the passengers by the

steamer would be obliged to pass. I accepted his polite attention, simply because I was glad to sit down and

rest in a quiet place after my walknot even the shadow of an idea that anything would come of my visit to

After a long interval the passengers began to stream into the room. Looking languidly enough at the first

halfdozen strangers who came in, I felt myself touched on the shoulder from behind. There was our man, in

He pointed to the passengers still crowding into the room. I looked; and, instantly losing my head, started up

with a cry that turned everybody's eyes on me. Yes! there was the poor dear discolored facethere was

I snatched the key of his portmanteau out of his hand, and gave it to our manwho undertook to submit it to

the customhouse examination, and to bring it to my lodging afterwards. Holding Oscar fast by the arm, I

pushed my way through the crowd in the room, got outside, and hailed a cab at the dock gates. The people

about, noticing my agitation, said to each other compassionately, "It's the blue man's mother!" Idiots! They

Once sheltered in the vehicle, I could draw my breath again, and reward him for all the anxiety he had caused

me by giving him a kiss. I might have given him a thousand kisses. Amazement made him a perfectly passive

creature in my hands. He only repeated faintly, over and over again, "What does it mean? what does it

"It means that you have friends, you wretch, who are fools enough to be too fond of you to give you up!" I

said. "I am one of the fools. You will come to England with me tomorrowand see for yourself if Lucilla

That reference to Lucilla restored him to the possession of his senses. He began to ask the questions that

naturally occurred to him under the circumstances. Having plenty of questions in reserve, on my side, I told

him briefly enough what had brought me to Marseilles, and what I had done, during my residence in that city,

When he asked me nextafter a momentary struggle with himselfwhat I could tell him of Nugent and

Lucilla, it is not to be denied that I hesitated before I answered him. A moment's consideration, however, was

enough to decide me on speaking outfor this plain reason, that a moment's consideration reminded me of

the troubles and annoyances which had already befallen us as the result of concealing the truth. I told Oscar

honestly all that I have related herestarting from my night interview with Nugent at Browndown, and

ending with my precautionary measures for the protection of Lucilla while she was living under the care of

I was greatly interested in watching the effect which these disclosures produced on Oscar.

My observation led me to form two conclusions. First conclusion, that time and absence had not produced the

slightest change in the love which the poor fellow bore to Lucilla. Second conclusion, that nothing but

absolute proof would induce him to agree in my unfavorable opinion of his brother's character. It was in vain

I declared that Nugent had quitted England pledged to find him, and had left it to me (as the event now

proved) to make the discovery. He owned readily that he had seen nothing, and heard nothing, of Nugent.

Nevertheless his confidence in his brother remained unshaken. "Nugent is the soul of honor," he repeated

again and againwith a sidelook at me which suggested that my franklyavowed opinion of his brother

I had barely time to notice this, before we reached my lodgings. He appeared to be unwilling to follow me

"I suppose you have some proof to support what you have said of Nugent," he resumed, stopping in the

courtyard. "Have you written to England since you have been here? and have you had a reply?"

"I have written to Mrs. Finch," I answered; "and I have not had a word in reply."

I explained to him the position in which I stood towards Miss Batchford, and the hesitation which I had felt

about writing to Grosse. The smoldering resentment against me that had been in him ever since I had spoken

"I entirely disagree with you," he broke out angrily. "You are wronging Lucilla and wronging Nugent. Lucilla

is incapable of saying anything against you to Grosse; and Nugent is equally incapable of misleading her as

you suppose. What horrible ingratitude you attribute to one of themand what horrible baseness to the

other! I have listened to you as patiently as I can; and I feel sincerely obliged by the interest which you have

shown in mebut I cannot remain in your company any longer. Madame Pratolungo, your suspicions are

inhuman! You have not brought forward a shadow of proof in support of them. I will send here for my

luggage, if you will allow meand I will start for England by the next train. After what you have said, I can't

This was my reward for all the trouble that I had taken to discover Oscar Dubourg! Never mind the money I

had spentI am not rich enough to care about moneyonly consider the trouble. If I had been a man, I do

really think I should have knocked him down. Being only a woman, I dropped him a low curtsey, and stung

"As you please, sir," I said. "I have done my best to serve youand you quarrel with me and leave me, in

Either the words or the curtseyor both togetherbrought him to his senses. He made me an

apologywhich I received. And he looked excessively foolishwhich put me in an excellent humour again.

"You stupid boy," I said, taking his arm, and leading him to the stairs. "When we first met at Dimchurch did

"I found you all that was kind and good. Still, it is surely only natural to want some confirmation" He

checked himself there, and reverted abruptly to my letter to Mrs. Finch. The silence of the rector's wife

He fell into thought. We ascended the next flight of stairs in silence. At the landing, he stopped me, and

"Mrs. Finch loses everything that can be lost," he said. "Is it not likelywith her habitsthat when she had

written her answer, and wanted your letter to look at to put the address on it, your letter was like her

So far, no doubt, this was quite in Mrs. Finch's character. I could see thatbut my mind was too much

preoccupied to draw the inference that followed. Oscar's next words enlightened me.

What could I possibly have been thinking of! Of course, she had lost my letter. Of course, the whole house

would be upset in looking for it, and the rector would silence the uproar by ordering his wife to try the

PosteRestante. How strangely we had changed places! Instead of my clear head thinking for Oscar, here was

Oscar's clear head thinking for Me. Is my stupidity quite incredible? Remember, if you please, what a weight

of trouble and anxiety had lain on my mind while I was at Marseilles. Can one think of everything while one

is afflicted, as I was? Not even such a clever person as You can do that. If, as the saying is, "Homer

"I never thought of the PosteRestante," I said to Oscar. "If you don't mind going back a little way, shall we

He was perfectly willing. We went downstairs again, and out into the street. On our way to the postoffice, I

"I have satisfied your curiosity, to the best of my ability," I said, as we walked arminarm through the

streets. "Now suppose you satisfy mine. A report of your having been seen in a military hospital in Italy, is

"I had no object in leaving England," he answered, "but the object which I avowed to you. After what had

happened, I owed it to Lucilla and I owed it to Nugent to go. I left England without caring where I went. The

train to Lyons happened to be the first train that started on my arrival at Paris. I took the first train. At Lyons,

I saw by chance an account in a French newspaper of the sufferings of some of the badlywounded men, left

still uncured after the battle of Solferino. I felt an impulse, in my own wretchedness, to help these other

sufferers in their misery. On every other side of it, my life was wasted. The one worthy use to which I could

put it was to employ myself in doing good; and here was good to be done, I managed to get the necessary

letters of introduction at Turin. With the help of these, I made myself of some use (under the regular surgeons

and dressers) in nursing the poor mutilated, crippled men; and I have helped a little afterwards, from my own

Once more I felt, what I had felt already, that there were hidden reserves of strength in the character of this

innocent young fellow, which had utterly escaped my superficial observation of him. In choosing his

vocation, he was, no doubt, only following the conventional modern course in such cases. Despair has its

fashions, as well as dress. Ancient despair (especially of Oscar's sort) used to turn soldier, or go into a

monastery. Modern despair turns nurse; binds up wounds, gives physic, and gets cured or not in that useful

but nasty way. Oscar had certainly struck out nothing new for himself: he had only followed the fashion.

Still, it implied, as I thought, both courage and resolution to have conquered the obstacles which he must

have overcome, and to have held steadily on his course after he had once entered it. Having begun by

quarreling with him, I was in a fair way to end by respecting him. Surely this man was worth preserving for

"May I ask where you were going, when we met at the port?" I continued. "Have you left Italy because there

"There was no more work for me at the hospital to which I was attached," he said. "And there were certain

obstacles in my way, as a stranger and a Protestant, among the poor and afflicted population outside the

hospital. I might have overcome those obstacles, with little trouble, among a people so essentially

goodtempered and courteous as the Italians, if I had tried. But it occurred to me that my first duty was to my

own countrymen. The misery crying for relief in London, is misery not paralleled in any city of Italy. When

you met me, I was on my way to London, to place my services at the disposal of any clergyman, in a poor

neighborhood, who would accept such help as I can offer him." He paused a littlehesitatedand added in

lower tones:"That was one of my objects in returning to England. It is only honest to own to you that I had

"Yes. Don't misinterpret me! I am not returning to England to retract what I said to Nugent. I still leave him

free to plead his own cause with Lucilla in his own person. I am still resolved not to distress myself and

distress them, by returning to Dimchurch. But I have a longing that nothing can subdue, to know how it has

ended between them. Don't ask me to say more than that! In spite of the time that has passed, it breaks my

heart to talk of Lucilla. I had looked forward to a meeting with you in London, and to hearing what I longed

to hear, from your lips. Judge for yourself what my hopes were when I first saw your face; and forgive me if I

felt my disappointment bitterly, when I found that you had really no news to tell, and when you spoke of

Nugent as you did." He stopped, and pressed my arm earnestly. "Suppose I am right about Miss Finch's

I checked him there. "I am not sure of that," I answered. "I don't know what it is that you most want to hear."

I said those words with a purpose. What was the news he was longing for? In spite of all that he had told me,

my instincts answered: News that Lucilla is still a single woman. My object in speaking as I had just spoken,

was to tempt him into a reply which might confirm me in this opinion. He evaded the reply. Was that

"Will you tell me what there is in the letter?" he askedpassing, as you see, entirely over what I had just said

"Yesif you wish it," I answered: not over well pleased with his want of confidence in me.

"I suppose it would be asking too much," he persisted, "to ask you to let me read the letter myself?"

My temper, as you are well aware by this time, is not the temper of a saint. I drew my arm smartly out of his

arm; and I surveyed him with, what poor Pratolungo used to call, "my Roman look."

He protested of course that he did nothing of the kindwithout producing the slightest effect on me. Just run

over in your mind the insults, worries, and anxieties which had assailed me, as the reward for my friendly

interest in this man's welfare. Or, if that is too great an effort, be so good as to remember that Lucilla's

farewell letter to me at Dimchurch, was now followed by the equally ungracious expression of Oscar's

distrustand this at a time when I had had serious trials of my own to sustain at my father's bedside. I think

you will admit that a sweeter temper than mine might have not unnaturally turned a little sour under present

I answered not a word to Oscar's protestationsI only searched vehemently in the pocket of my dress.

"Here," I said, opening my cardcase, "is my address in this place; and here," I went on, producing the

I forced the card and the passport into his hands. He took them in helpless astonishment.

"Take them to the PosteRestante. If there is a letter for me with the Dimchurch postmark, I authorize you

to open it. Read it before it comes into my handsand then perhaps you will be satisfied?"

He declared that he would do nothing of the sortand tried to force my documents back into my own

"Please yourself," I said. "I have done with you and your affairs. Mrs. Finch's letter is of no earthly

consequence to me. If it is at the PosteRestante, I shall not trouble myself to ask for it. What concern have I

with news about Lucilla? What does it matter to me whether she is married or not? I am going back to my

father and my sisters. Decide for yourself whether you want Mrs. Finch's letter or not."

That settled it. He went his way with my documents to the postoffice; and I went mine back to the lodging.

Arrived in my room, I still held to the resolution which I had expressed to Oscar in the street. Why should I

leave my poor old father to go back to England, and mix myself up in Lucilla's affairs? After the manner in

which she had taken her leave of me, had I any reasonable prospect of being civilly received? Oscar was on

his way to Englandlet Oscar manage his own affairs; let them all three (Oscar, Nugent, Lucilla) fight it out

together among themselves. What had I, Pratolungo's widow, to do with this trumpery family entanglement?

Nothing! It was a warm day for the time of yearPratolungo's widow, like a wise woman, determined to

make herself comfortable. She unlocked her packed box; she removed her traveling costume, and put on her

dressinggown; she took a turn in the roomand, if you had come across her at that moment, I wouldn't

(What do you think of my consistency by this time? How often have I changed my mind about Lucilla and

Oscar? Reckon it up, from the time when I left Dimchurch. What a picture of perpetual selfcontradiction I

presentand how improbable it is that I should act in this illogical way! You never alter your mind under the

influence of your temper or your circumstances. No: you are, what they call, a consistent character. And I?

Oh, I am only a human beingand I feel painfully conscious that I have no business to be in a book.)

In about half an hour's time, the servant appeared with a little paper parcel for me. It had been left by a

stranger with an English accent and a terrible face. He had announced his intention of calling a little later.

The servant, a bouncing fat wench, trembled as she repeated the message, and asked if there was anything

I opened the parcel. It contained my passport, and, sure enough, the letter from Mrs. Finch. Had he opened it?

Yes! He had not been able to resist the temptation to read it. And more, he had written a line or two on it in

pencil, thus:"As soon as I am fit to see you, I will implore your pardon. I dare not trust myself in your

It was dated the fifth of September. I ran over the first few sentences carelessly enough. Thanks for my

lettercongratulations on my father's prospect of recoveryinformation about baby's gums and the rector's

last sermonmore information about somebody else, which Mrs. Finch felt quite sure would interest and

delight me. What!!! "Mr. Oscar Dubourg has come back, and is now with Lucilla at Ramsgate."

I crumpled the letter up in my hand. Nugent had justified my worst anticipations of what he would do in my

absence. What did the true Mr. Oscar Dubourg, reading that sentence at Marseilles, think of his brother now?

We are all mortalwe are all wicked. It is monstrous, but it is true. I had a moment's triumph.

The wicked moment gone, I was good againthat is to say, I was ashamed of myself.

I smoothed out the letter, and looked eagerly for news of Lucilla's health. If the news was favorable, my letter

committed to Miss Batchford's care must have been shown to Lucilla by this time; must have exposed

Nugent's abominable personation of his brother; and must have thus preserved her for Oscar. In that case, all

After telling me the news from Ramsgate, Mrs. Finch began to drift into, what you call, Twaddle. She had

just discovered (exactly as Oscar had supposed) that she had lost my letter. She would keep her own letter

back until the next day, on the chance of finding it. If she failed she must try PosteRestante, at the

suggestion (not of Mr. Finchthere I was wrong)at the suggestion of Zillah, who had relatives in foreign

parts, and had tried PosteRestante in her case too. So Mrs. Finch driveled mildly on, in her large loose

I turned over. The handwriting suddenly grew untidier than ever; two great blots defaced the paper; the style

became feebly hysterical. Good Heavens! what did I read when I made it out at last! See for yourselves; here

are the words: "Some hours have passedit is just teatimeoh, my dear friend, I can hardly hold the pen,

I tremble sowould you believe it, Miss Batchford has arrived at the rectoryshe brings the dreadful news

that Lucilla has eloped with Oscarwe don't know whywe don't know where, except that they have gone

away together privatelya letter from Oscar tells Miss Batchford as much as that, and no moreoh, pray

come back as soon as you canMr. Finch washes his hands of itand Miss Batchford has left the house

again in a fury with himI am in dreadful agitation, and I have given it Mr. Finch says to baby, who is

All the rages I had ever been in before in my life were as nothing compared with the rage that devoured me

when I had read that fourth page of Mrs. Finch's letter. Nugent had got the better of me and my precautions!

Nugent had robbed his brother of Lucilla, in the vilest manner, with perfect impunity! I cast all feminine

restraints to the winds. I sat down with my legs anyhow, like a man. I rammed my hands into the pockets of

my dressinggown. Did I cry? A word in your earand let it go no farther. I swore.

How long the fit lasted, I don't know. I only remember that I was disturbed by a knock at my door.

There was a look in his face that instantly quieted me. There was a tone in his voice that brought the tears

"I must leave for England in two hours," he said. "Will you forgive me, Madame Pratolungo, before I go?"

Only those words! And yetif you had seen him, if you had heard him, as he spoke themyou would have

been ready as I wasnot only to forgive himbut to go to the ends of the earth with him; and you would

You will perhaps expect me to give some account of how Oscar bore the discovery of his brother's conduct.

The first words of any importance which he addressed to me were spoken on our way to the station. Rousing

Naturally enough, under the circumstances, I tried to avoid answering him. He was not to be put off in that

"You will do me a favor," he went on, "if you will reply to my question. The letter has bred in me such a vile

suspicion of my dear good brother, who never deceived me in his life, that I would rather believe I am out of

my mind than believe in my own interpretation of it. Do you infer from what Mrs. Finch writes, that Nugent

has presented himself to Lucilla under my name? Do you believe that he has persuaded her to leave her

friends, under the impression that she has yielded to My entreaties, and trusted herself to My care?"

I answered in the fewest and plainest words, "That is what your brother has done."

A sudden change passed over him. My reply seemed to have set his last doubts at rest in an instant.

"That is what my brother has done," he repeated. "After all that I sacrificed to himafter all that I trusted to

his honorwhen I left England." He paused, and considered a little. "What does such a man deserve?" he

"He deserves," I said, "what he will get when we reach England. You have only to show yourself to make

him repent his wickedness to the last day of his life. Are exposure and defeat not punishment enough for such

He turned his face away from me, and said no more until we arrived at the station. There, he drew me aside

"Why should I take you away from your father?" he asked abruptly. "I am behaving very selfishlyand I

"Make your mind easy," I said. "If I had not met you today, I should have gone to England tomorrow for

"But now you have met me," he persisted, "why shouldn't I spare you the journey? I could write and tell you

"If you say a word more," I answered, "I shall think you have some reason of your own for wishing to go to

He cast one quick suspicious look at meand led the way back to the bookingoffice without uttering

another word. I was not at all satisfied with him. I thought his conduct very strange.

In silence we took our tickets; in silence, we got into the railwaycarriage. I attempted to say something

encouraging, when we started. "Don't notice me," was all he replied. "You will be doing me a kindness, if

you will let me bear it by myself." In my former experience of him, he had talked his way out of all his other

troubleshe had clamorously demanded the expression of my sympathy with him. In this greatest trouble,

he was like another being; I hardly knew him again! Were the hidden reserves in his nature (stirred up by

another serious call on them) showing themselves once more on the surface as they had shown themselves

already, on the fatal first day when Lucilla tried her sight? In that way I accounted for the mere superficial

change in him, at the time. What was actually going on below the surface it defied my ingenuity even to

guess. Perhaps I shall best describe the sort of vague apprehension which he aroused in meafter what had

passed between us at the stationby saying that I would not for worlds have allowed him to go to England

Left as I now was to my own resources, I occupied the first hours of the journey, in considering what course

I decided, in the first place, that we ought to go straight to Dimchurch. If any tidings had been obtained of

Lucilla, they would be sure to have received them at the rectory. Our route, after reaching Paris, must be

therefore by way of Dieppe; thence across the Channel to Newhaven, near Brightonand so to Dimchurch.

In the second placeassuming it to be always possible that we might see Lucilla at the rectorythe risk of

abruptly presenting Oscar to her in his own proper person might, for all I knew to the contrary, be a very

serious one. It would relieve us, as I thought, of a grave responsibility, if we warned Grosse of our arrival,

and so enabled him to be present, if he thought it necessary, in the interests of Lucilla's health. I put this view

(as also my plan for returning by way of Dieppe) to Oscar. He briefly consented to everythinghe

Accordingly, on our arrival at Lyons, having some time for refreshment at our disposal before we went on, I

telegraphed to Mr. Finch at the rectory, and to Grosse in London; informing them (as well as I could calculate

it) that, if we were lucky in catching trains and steamboats, Oscar and I might be in Dimchurch in good time,

on the next nightthat is to say, on the night of the eighteenth. In any case, they were to expect us at the

These difficulties disposed of, and a little store of refreshment for the night packed in my basket, we

Among the new passengers who joined us at Lyons was a gentleman whose face was English, and whose

dress was the dress of a clergyman. For the first time in my life, I hailed the appearance of a priest with a

feeling of relief. The reason was this. From the moment when I had read Mrs. Finch's letter until now, a

horrid doubt, which a priest was just the man to solve, had laid its leaden weight on my mindand, I firmly

believe, on Oscar's mind as well. Had time enough passed, since Lucilla had left Ramsgate, to allow of

As the train rolled out of the station, I, the enemy of priests, began to make myself agreeable to this priest. He

was young and shybut I conquered him. Just as the other travelers were beginning (with the exception of

Oscar) to compose themselves to sleep, I put my case to the clergyman. "A and B, sir, lady and gentleman,

both of age, leave one place in England, and go to live in another place, on the fifth of this monthhow

"In church, of course." (To that extent I believed I might answer for Lucilla, without any fear of making a

"They may be married by License," said the clergyman"provided one of them continues to reside in that

other place to which they traveled on the fifthon the twentyfirst, or (possibly) even the twentieth of this

It was then the night of the seventeenth. I gave my companion's hand a little squeeze in the dark. Here was a

glimpse of encouragement to cheer us on the journey. Before the marriage could take place, we should be in

England. "We have time before us," I whispered to Oscar. "We will save Lucilla yet."

I had forgotten that serious difficulty. No answer to Oscar's question could possibly present itself until we

reached the rectory. Between this and then, there was nothing for it but to keep patience and to keep hope.

I refrain from encumbering this part of my narrative with any detailed account of the little accidents, lucky

and unlucky, which alternately hastened or retarded our journey home. Let me only say that, before midnight

Mr. Finch himself came out to receive us, with a lamp in his hand. He lifted his eyes (and his lamp)

Mr. Finchwith his whole attention fixed on Oscarwrung my hand mechanically, and said I was a "good

creature;" much as he might have patted, and spoken to, Oscar's companion, if the companion had been a

dog. I almost wished myself that animal for the momentI should have had the privilege of biting Mr.

Finch. Oscar impatiently repeated my question; the rector, at the time, officiously assisting him to descend

That answer revealed to me the secret of Mr. Finch's extraordinary politeness to his young friend. The last

chance, as things were, of preventing Lucilla's marriage to a man who had squandered away every farthing of

his money, was the chance of Oscar's arrival in England before the ceremony could take place. The measure

of Oscar's importance to Mr. Finch was now, more literally than ever, the measure of Oscar's fortune.

I asked for news of Grosse as we went in. The rector actually found some comparatively high notes in his

prodigious voice, to express his amazement at my audacity in speaking to him of anybody but Oscar.

"Oh, dear, dear me!" cried Mr. Finch, impatiently conceding to me one precious moment of his attention.

"Don't bother about Grosse! Grosse is ill in London. There is a note for you from Grosse.Take care of the

doorstep, dear Oscar," he went on, in his deepest and gravest bass notes. "Mrs. Finch is so anxious to see

you. We have both looked forward to your arrival with such eager hopesuch impatient affection, so to

speak. Let me put down your hat. Ah! how you must have suffered! Share my trust in an allwise

Providence, and meet this trial with cheerful submission as I do. All is not lost yet. Bear up! bear up!" He

threw open the parlor door. "Mrs. Finch! compose yourself. Our dear adopted son. Our afflicted Oscar!"

There were the three unchangeable institutionsthe novel, the baby, and the missing pockethandkerchief

There was the gaudy jacket over the long trailing dressinggownand the damp lady inside them, damp as

ever! Receiving Oscar with a mouth drawn down at the corners, and a head that shook sadly in sympathy

with him, Mrs. Finch's face underwent a most extraordinary transformation when she turned my way next. To

my astonishment, her dim eyes actually sparkled; a broad smile of irrepressible contentment showed itself

cunningly to me, in place of the dismal expression which had welcomed Oscar. Holding up the baby in

triumph, the lady of the rectory whispered these words in my ear:"What do you think he has done since

Others might bewail the family misfortune. The family triumph filled the secret mind of Mrs. Finch, to the

exclusion of every other earthly consideration. I put my finger in as instructed, and got instantly bitten by the

ferocious baby. But for a new outburst of the rector's voice at the moment, Mrs. Finch (if I am any judge of

physiognomy) must have certainly relieved herself by a scream of delight. As it was, she opened her mouth;

and (having lost her handkerchief as already stated) retired into a corner, and gagged herself with the baby.

In the meantime, Mr. Finch had produced from a cupboard near the fireplace, two letters. The first he threw

down impatiently on the table. "Oh, dear, dear! what a nuisance other people's letters are!" The second he

handled with extraordinary care; offering it to Oscar with a heavy sigh, and with eyes that turned up

martyrlike to the ceiling. "Rouse yourself, and read it," said Mr. Finch in his most pathetic pulpit tones. "I

would have spared you, Oscar, if I could. All our hopes depend, dear boy, on what you can say to guide us

Oscar took the enclosure out of the enveloperan over the first wordsglanced at the signatureand, with

"Don't ask me to read it!" he cried, in the first burst of passion which had escaped him yet. "If I read it, I shall

kill him when we meet." He dropped into a chair, and hid his face in his hands. "Oh, Nugent! Nugent!

It was no time for standing on ceremony. I picked up the letter, and looked at it without asking leave. It

proved to be the letter from Nugent (already inserted at the close of Lucilla's Journal), informing Miss

Batchford of her niece's flight from Ramsgate, and signed in Oscar's name. The only words which it is

necessary to repeat here, are these:"She accompanies me, at my express request, to the house of a married

lady who is a relative of mine, and under whose care she will remain, until the time arrives for our marriage."

Those lines instantly lightened my heart of the burden that had oppressed it on the journey. Nugent's married

relative was Oscar's married relative too. Oscar had only to tell us where the lady livedand Lucilla would

I stopped Mr. Finch, in the act of maddening Oscar by administering pastoral consolation to him.

"We have had a weary journey," I went on. "Oscar is not so well used to traveling as I am. Where is his

For once in his life, the Pope of Dimchurch was reduced to silence. His amazement at my audacity defied

even his powers of expression. I took Oscar's arm, and said, "You are worn out. Go to your room. I will make

you something warm and bring it up to you myself in a few minutes." He neither looked at me nor answered

mehe yielded silently and followed Mrs. Finch. I took from the sideboard, on which supper was waiting,

the materials I wanted; set the kettle boiling; made my renovating mixture; and advanced to the door with

itfollowed from first to last, move where I might, by the staring and scandalized eyes of Mr. Finch. The

moment in which I opened the door was also the moment in which the rector recovered himself. "Permit me

to inquire, Madame Pratolungo," he said with his loftiest emphasis, "in what capacity are You here?"

"In the capacity of Oscar's friend," I answered. "You will get rid of us both tomorrow." I banged the door

behind me, and went upstairs. If I had been Mr. Finch's wife, I believe I should have ended in making quite

Mrs. Finch met me in the passage on the first floor, and pointed out Oscar's room. I found him walking

backwards and forwards restlessly. The first words he said alluded to his brother's letter. I had arranged not to

disturb him by any reference to that painful matter until the next morning; and I tried to change the topic. It

was useless. There was an anxiety in his mind which was not to be dismissed at will. He insisted on my

"I don't want to see the letter," he said. "I only want to know all that it says about Lucilla."

"Didn't I say something foolish down stairs?" he asked, putting the question suddenly, with an odd suspicious

I left the room, feeling much as I had felt at the station at Marseilles. I was not satisfied with him. I thought

On returning to the parlor, I found nobody there but Mrs. Finch. The rector's offended dignity had left the

rector no honorable alternative but to withdraw to his own room. I ate my supper in peace; and Mrs. Finch

(rocking the cradle with her foot) chattered away to her heart's content about all that had happened in my

I gathered, here and there, from what she said, some particulars worth mentioning.

The new disagreement between Mr. Finch and Miss Batchford, which had driven the old lady out of the

rectory almost as soon as she set foot in it, had originated in Mr. Finch's exasperating composure when he

heard of his daughter's flight. He supposed, of course, that Lucilla had left Ramsgate with Oscarwhose

signed settlements on his future wife were safe in Mr. Finch's possession. It was only when Miss Batchford

had communicated with Grosse, and when the discovery followed which revealed the penniless Nugent as the

man who had eloped with Lucilla, that Mr. Finch's parental anxiety (seeing no money likely to come of it)

became roused to action. He, Miss Batchford, and Grosse, had all, in their various ways, done their best to

trace the fugitivesand had all alike been baffled by the impossibility of discovering the residence of the

lady mentioned in Nugent's letter. My telegram, announcing my return to England with Oscar, had inspired

them with their first hope of being able to interfere, and stop the marriage before it was too late.

The occurrence of Grosse's name in Mrs. Finch's rambling narrative, recalled to my memory what the rector

had told me at the garden gate. I had not yet received the letter which the German had sent to wait my arrival

at Dimchurch. After a short search, we found itwhere it had been contemptuously thrown by Mr.

A few lines comprised the whole letter. Grosse informed me that he had so fretted himself about Lucilla, that

he had been attacked by "a visitation of gouts." It was impossible to move his "foots" without instantly

plunging into the torture of the infernal regions. "If it is you, my goot dear, who are going to find her," he

concluded, "come to me first in London. I have something most dismalserious to say to you about our poor

No words can tell how that last sentence startled and grieved me. Mrs. Finch increased my anxiety and alarm

by repeating what she had heard Miss Batchford say, during her brief visit to the rectory, on the subject of

Lucilla's sight. Grosse had been seriously dissatisfied with the state of his patient's eyes, when he had seen

them as long ago as the fourth of the month; and, on the morning of the next day, the servant had reported

Lucilla as being hardly able to distinguish objects in the view from the window of her room. Later on the

same day, she had secretly left Ramsgate; and Grosse's letter proved that she had not been near her surgical

Weary as I was after the journey, this miserable news kept me waking long after I had gone to my bed. The

next morning, I was up with the servantsimpatient to start for London, by the first train.

EARLY riser as I was, I found that Oscar had risen earlier still. He had left the rectory and had disturbed Mr.

Gootheridge's morning slumbers by an application at the inn for the key of Browndown.

On his return to the rectory, he merely said that he had been to see after various things belonging to him,

which were still left in the empty house. His look and manner as he gave us this brief explanation were, to my

mind, more unsatisfactory than ever. I made no remark; and, observing that his loose traveling coat was

buttoned awry over the breast, I set it right for him. My hand, as I did this, touched his breastpocket. He

started back directlyas if there was something in the pocket which he did not wish me to feel. Was it

We got awayencumbered by Mr. Finch, who insisted on attaching himself to Oscarby the first express

train, which took us straight to London. Comparison of timetables, on reaching the terminus, showed that I

had leisure to spare for a brief visit to Grosse, before we again took the railway back to Sydenham. Having

decided not to mention the bad news about Lucilla's sight to Oscar, until I had seen the German first, I made

the best excuse that suggested itself, and drove awayleaving the two gentlemen in the waitingroom at the

I found Grosse confined to his easychair, with his gouty foot enveloped in cool cabbageleaves. Between

pain and anxiety, his eyes were wilder, his broken English was more grotesque than ever. When I appeared at

the door of his room and said good morningin the frenzy of his impatience he shook his fist at me.

I told him where we believed Lucilla to be. Grosse turned his head, and shook his fist at a bottle on the

"Get that bottles on the chimney," he said. "And the eyebaths by the side of him. Don't stop with your

talkytalkychatterations here. Go! Save her eyes. Look! You do this. You throw her head backsoh!" He

illustrated the position so forcibly with his own head that he shook his gouty foot, and screamed with the pain

of it. He went on nevertheless, glaring frightfully through his spectacles; gnashing his mustache fiercely

between his teeth. "Throw her head back. Fill the eyebaths; turn him upsidesdown over her open eyes.

Drown them turnturnabout in my mixtures. Drown them, I say, onedowntoddercomeon, and if she

screech never mind it. Then bring her to me. For the lofe of Gott, bring her to me. If you tie her hands and

He seized the pillow which supported his headevidently intending to expedite my departure by throwing it

at me. I produced the railway timetable as the best defensive weapon at my command. "Look at it for

yourself," I said; "and you will see that I must wait at the station, if I don't wait here."

With some difficulty, I satisfied him that it was impossible to leave London for Sydenham before a certain

hour, and that I had at least ten minutes to spare which might be just as well passed in consulting him. He

closed his glaring eyes, and laid his head back on the chair, thoroughly exhausted with his own outbreak of

excitement. "No matter how things goes," he said, "a womans must wag her tongue. Goot. Wag yours."

"I am placed in a very difficult position," I began. "Oscar is going with me to Lucilla. I shall of course take

care, in the first place, that he and Nugent do not meet, unless I am present at the interview. But I am not

equally sure of what I ought to do in the case of Lucilla. Must I keep them apart until I have first prepared her

"Let her see the devil himself if you like," growled Grosse, "so long as you bring her here afterwardsdirectly

to me. You will do the bettermost thing, if you prepare Oscar. She wants no preparations! She is enough

He settled himself wearily in his chair, and referred, in a softened and saddened tone, to that private

conversation of his with Lucilla, at Ramsgate, which has already been reported in the Journal. I was now

informed, for the first time, of those changes in her sensations and in her ways of thinking which had so

keenly vexed and mortified her. I heard of the ominous absence of the old thrill of pleasure, when Nugent

took her hand on meeting her at the seasideI heard how bitterly his personal appearance had disappointed

her (when she had seen his features in detail) by comparison with the charming ideal picture which she had

formed of her lover in the days of her blindness: those happier days, as she had called them, when she was

"Surely," I said, "all the old feelings will come back to her when she sees Oscar?"

He was beginning to frighten me, or to irritate meI can hardly say which. I only know that I persisted in

disputing with him. "When she sees the true man," I went on, "do you mean to say she will feel the same

"You foolish womans!" he interposed, "she will feel more than the same. I have told you already it was one

enormous disappointments to her when she saw the handsome brodder with the fair complexions. Ask your

own self what it will be when she sees the ugly brodder with the blue face. I tell you this!she will think

"His face may be a disappointment to her," I said"I own that. But there it will end. Her hand will tell her,

"Her hand will tell her nothingno more than yours. I had not so much hard hearts in me as to say that to

her, when she asked me. I say it to you. Hold your tongue and listen. All those thrilltingles that she once had

when he touched her, belong to anodder timethe time goneby when her sight was in her fingers and not in

her eyes. With those finesuperfinefeelings of the days when she was blind, she pays now for her grand new

privilege of opening her eyes on the world. (And worth the price too!) Do you understand yet? It is a sort of

swopbargain between Nature and this poor girls of ours. I take away your eyesI give you your fine touch.

I give you your eyesI take away your fine touch. Soh! that is plain. You see now."

I was too mortified and too miserable to answer him. Through all our later troubles, I had looked forward so

confidently to Oscar's reappearance as the one sufficient condition on which Lucilla's happiness would be

certainly restored! What had become of my anticipations now? I sat silent; staring in stupid depression at the

I neither moved nor heeded him. His ferocious eyes began to flame again behind his monstrous spectacles.

"Gobeoffwithyou!" he shouted at me as if I was deaf. "Her eyes! her eyes! While you stop

chatterboxing here, her eyes are in danger. What with her frettings and her cryings and her

damnnonsenselofebusiness, I swear you my solemn oath her sight was in danger when I saw her a whole

fortnight goneby. Do you want my big pillow to fly bang at your head? You don't want him? Beoffaway

with you then, or you will have him in onetwothree time! Beoffawayand bring her back to me before

I returned to the railway. Of all the women whom I passed in the crowded streets, I doubt if one had a heavier

To make matters worse still, my traveling companions (one in the refreshmentroom, and one pacing the

platform) received my account of my interview with Grosse in a manner which seriously disappointed and

discouraged me. Mr. Finch's inhuman conceit treated my melancholy news of his daughter as a species of

"You remember, Madame Pratolungo, I took high ground in this matter from the first. I protested against the

proceedings of the man Grosse, as involving a purely worldly interference with the ways of an inscrutable

Providence. With what effect? My paternal influence was repudiated; my Moral Weight was, so to speak, set

aside. And now you see the result. Take it to heart, dear friend. May it be a warning to you!" He sighed with

ponderous complacency, and turned from me to the girl behind the counter. "I will take another cup of tea."

Oscar's reception of me, when I found him on the platform, and told him next of Lucilla's critical state, was

more than discouraging. It is no exaggeration to say that he alarmed me. "Another item in the debt I owe to

Nugent!" he said. Not a word of sympathy, not a word of sorrow. That vindictive answer, and nothing more.

From time to time, I looked at Oscar sitting opposite to me, to see if any change appeared in him as we drew

nearer and nearer to the place in which Lucilla was now living. No! Still the same ominous silence, the same

Except the momentary outbreak, when Mr. Finch had placed Nugent's letter in his hand on the previous

evening, not the faintest token of what was really going on in his mind had escaped him since we had left

Marseilles. He, who could weep over all his other griefs as easily and as spontaneously as a woman, had not

shed a tear since the fatal day when he had discovered that his brother had played him falsethat brother

who had been the god of his idolatry, the sacred object of his gratitude and his love! When a man of Oscar's

temperament becomes frozen up for days together in his own thoughtswhen he keeps his own counsel;

when he asks for no sympathy, and utters no complaintthe sign is a serious one. There are hidden forces

gathering in him which will burst their way to the surfacefor good or for evilwith an irresistible result.

Watching Oscar attentively behind my veil, I felt the certain assurance that the part he would take in the

terrible conflict of interests now awaiting us, would be a part which I should remember to the latest day of my

On the railwaywith other travelers in the carriageit had been impossible to consult on the safest method

of approaching Lucilla, in the first instance. That serious question now pressed for instant decision. We sat

ON former occasions of doubt or difficulty, it had always been Oscar's habit to follow the opinions of others.

On this occasion he was the first to speak, and to assert an opinion of his own.

"It seems needless to waste time in discussing our different views," he said. "There is only one thing to be

done. I am the person principally concerned in this matter. Wait here, while I go to the house."

He spoke without any of his usual hesitation; he took up his hat without looking either at Mr. Finch or at me.

I felt more and more convinced that the influence which Nugent's vile breach of confidence had exerted over

Oscar's mind, was an influence which had made a dangerous man of him. Resolved to prevent him from

leaving us, I insisted on his returning to his chair, and hearing what I had to say. At the same moment, Mr.

Finch rose, and placed himself between Oscar and the door. Seeing this, I thought it might be wise if I kept

Mr. Finch paused, evidently considering what words he should use before he spoke again. His respect for

Oscar's pecuniary position was great; but his respect for himselfespecially at the present crisiswas, if

possible, greater still. In deference to the first sentiment he was as polite, and in deference to the second he

was as positive, in phrasing his remonstrance, as a man could be. "Permit me to remind you, dear Oscar, that

my claim to interfere, as Lucilla's father, is at least equal to yours," proceeded the rector. "In the hour of my

daughter's need, it is my parental duty to be present. If you go to your cousin's house, my position

imperatively requires that I should go too." Oscar's reception of this proposal confirmed the grave

apprehensions with which he had inspired me. He flatly refused to have Mr. Finch for a companion.

"Permit me to ask your reason," said the rector, still preserving his conciliatory manner.

"I wish to see my brother in private," Oscar replied, with his eyes on the ground.

Mr. Finch, still restraining himself, but still not moving from the door, looked at me. I hastened to interfere

"I venture to think," I said, "that you are both wrong. Whether one of you goes, or both of you go, the result

will be the same. The chances are a hundred to one, against your being admitted into the house."

"You can't force your way in," I said. "You must do one of two things. You must either give your names to

the servant at the door, or you must withhold your names. If you give them, you warn Nugent of what is

comingand he is not the man to let you into the house under those circumstances. If you take the other

way, and keep your names concealed, you present yourselves as strangers. Is Nugent likely to be accessible to

strangers? Would Lucilla, in her present position, consent to receive two men who are unknown to her? Take

my word for ityou will not only gain nothing if you go to the house you will actually make it more difficult

There was a moment's silence. Both the men felt that my objections were not easy to answer. Once more,

"No," I answered. "I propose to send a letter to Lucilla. A letter will find its way to her."

This again was unanswerable. Oscar inquired next what the purport of the letter was to be. I replied that I

"She will not refuse," I rejoined. "There was a little misunderstanding between usI admitat the time

when I went abroad. I mean to refer frankly to that misunderstanding as my reason for writing. I shall put

your daughter on her honor to give me an opportunity of setting things right between us. If I summon Lucilla

(This, let me add in parenthesis, was the plan of action which I had formed on the way to Sydenham. I had

only waited to mention it, until I heard what the two men proposed to do first.)

Oscar, standing hat in hand, glanced at Mr. Finch (also hat in hand) keeping obstinately near the door. If he

persisted in carrying out his purpose of going alone to his cousin's house, the rector's face and manner

expressed, with the politest plainness, the intention of following him. Oscar was placed between a clergyman

and a woman, both equally determined to have their own way. Under those circumstances, there was no

alternativeunless he wished to produce a public scandalbut to yield, or appear to yield, to one or the

"I mean either to bring her back with me here to her father and to you, or to make an appointment with her to

Oscarafter another look at the immovable rectorrang the bell, and ordered writing materials.

"One more question," he said. "Assuming that Lucilla receives you at the house, do you intend to see?"

He stopped; his eyes shrank from meeting mine. "Do you intend to see anybody else?" he resumed: still

"I intend to see nobody but Lucilla," I answered. "It is no business of mine to interfere between you and your

brother." (Heaven forgive me for speaking in that way to him, while I had the firm resolution to interfere

"It is needless, I presume, for me to make the same stipulation?" added the rector. "In my parental capacity

I recognized his parental capacity, before he could say any more. "You shall both see the reply," I saidand

sat down to my letter; writing merely what I had told them I should write: "Dear Lucilla, I have just returned

from the Continent. For the sake of justice, and for the sake of old times, let me see you

immediatelywithout mentioning our appointment to anybody. I pledge myself to satisfy you, in five

minutes, that I have never been unworthy of your affection and your confidence. The bearer waits for your

I handed those lines to the two gentlemen to read. Mr. Finch made no remarkhe was palpably dissatisfied

at the secondary position which he occupied. Oscar said, "I see no objection to the letter. I will do nothing

until I have read the answer." With those words, he dictated to me his cousin's address. I gave the letter

He went out. As well as I can remember, an interval of at least half an hour passed before his return. You will

form some idea of the terrible oppression of suspense that now laid its slowlytorturing weight on all three of

us, when I tell you that not one word was spoken in the room from the time when the servant went out, to the

My fingers shook so that I could hardly open it. Before I had read a word, the sight of the writing struck a

sudden chill through me. The body of the note was written by the hand of a stranger! And the signature at the

end was traced in the large straggling childish characters which I remembered so well, when Lucilla had

The note was expressed in these strange words:"I cannot receive you here; but I can, and will, come to you

at your hotel if you will wait for me. I am not able to appoint a time. I can only promise to watch for my first

But one interpretation could be placed on such language as this. Lucilla was not a free agent. Both Oscar and

the rector were now obliged to acknowledge that my view of the case had been the correct one. If it was

impossible for me to be received into the house, how doubly impossible would it be for the men to gain

admission! Oscar, after reading the note, withdrew to the further end of the room; keeping his thoughts to

himself. Mr. Finch decided on stepping out of his secondary position by forthwith taking a course of his own.

"Am I to infer," he began, "that it is really useless for me to attempt to see my own child?"

"Her letter speaks for itself," I replied. "If you attempt to see her, you will probably be the means of

"In my parental capacity," continued Mr. Finch, "it is impossible for me to remain passive. As a

brotherclergyman, I have, I conceive, a claim on the rector of the parish. It is quite likely that notice may

have been already given of this fraudulent marriage. In that case, it is not only my duty to myself and my

childit is my duty to the Church, to confer with my reverend colleague. I go to confer with him." He

strutted to the door, and added, "If Lucilla arrives in my absence, I invest you with my authority, Madame

Pratolungo, to detain her until my return." With that parting charge to me, he walked out.

I felt positively assured, from the manner in which he answered me, that he was goingnow he had got rid

"You forget," I said, "that Lucilla may come here while you are out. Your presence in the room, or in the

room next to this, may be of the greatest importance, when I tell her what your brother has done. Suppose she

refuses to believe me? What am I to do if I have not got you to appeal to? In your own interests, as well as in

Putting it on that ground only, I waited to see what he would do. After a certain hesitation, he answered with

a sullen assumption of indifference, "Just as you please!"and walked away again towards the other end of

the room. As he turned his back on me, I heard him say to himself, "It's only waiting a little longer!"

"Patience for the present!" he answered. "You will hear soon enough." For the moment, I said no more to

After an intervalhow long an interval I cannot well sayI heard the sound of women's dresses in the

I signed to Oscar to open a second door, close by him at the lower end of the room, and (for the moment at

least) to keep out of sight. Then I answered the knock, and said as steadily as I could, "Come in."

A woman unknown to me entered, dressed like a respectable servant. She came in leading Lucilla by the

hand. My first look at my darling told me the horrible truth. As I had seen her in the corridor at the rectory on

the first day we met, so I now saw her once more. Again, the sightless eyes turned on me, insensibly

reflecting the light that fell on them. Blind! Oh, God, after a few brief weeks of sight, blind again!

In that miserable discovery, I forgot everything else. I flew to her, and caught her in my arms. I cast one look

She held my head gently with one hand, and waited with the patience of an angel until that first outbreak of

my grief had exhausted itself. "Don't cry about my blindness," said the soft, sweet voice that I knew so well.

"The days when I had my sight have been the unhappiest days of my life. If I look as if I had been fretting,

don't think it is about my eyes." She paused, and sighed bitterly. "I may tell you," she went on in a whisper.

"It's a relief, it's a consolation, to tell you. I am fretting about my marriage."

Those words roused me. I lifted my head, and kissed her. "I have come back to comfort you," I said: "and I

She smiled faintly. "How like you," she exclaimed, "to say that!" She tapped my cheek with her fingers in the

old familiar way. The repetition of that little trifling action almost broke my heart. I nearly choked myself in

forcing back the stupid cowardly useless tears that tried to burst from me again. "Come!" she said. "No more

I took her to the sofa: we sat side by side. She put her arm round my waist, and laid her head on my shoulder.

Again the faint smile flickered like a dying light on her lovely face; wan and wasted, yet still beautifulstill

the Virgin's face in Raphael's picture. "We are a strange pair," she said, with a momentary flash of her old

irresistible humour. "You are my bitterest enemy, and you burst out crying over me the moment we meet. I

have been shockingly treated by youand I have got my arm round your waist and my head on your

shoulder, and I wouldn't let go of you for the world!" Her face saddened again; her voice suddenly altered its

tone. "Tell me," she went on, "how is it that appearances were so terribly against you? Oscar satisfied me, at

Ramsgate, that I ought to give you up, that I ought never to see you again. I took his viewthere is no

denying it, my dearI agreed with him in detesting you, for a little while. But, when the blindness came

back, I could keep it up no longer. Little by little, as the light died out, my heart would turn to you again.

When I heard your letter read, when I knew that you were near meit was just like the old times; I was mad

to see you. And here I amsatisfied, before you explain it to me, that you have been the victim of some

I tried, in grateful acknowledgment of those generous words, to enter on my justification there and then. It

was impossible. I could think of nothing, I could speak of nothing, but the dreadful discovery of her

"Give me a few minutes," I said, "and you shall hear it all. I can't talk of myself, yetI can only talk of you.

Oh, Lucilla, why did you keep away from Grosse? Come with me to him today. Let him try what he can do.

"It is too late," she said. "I have been to another oculista stranger. He said, what Mr. Sebright said: he

doubted if there was ever any chance for me: he thought the operation ought never to have been performed."

"You must ask Oscar," she answered. "It was at his desire that I kept away from Grosse."

Hearing this, I penetrated for myself the motive which had actuated Nugentas I afterwards found it

indicated in the Journal. If he had let Lucilla go to Grosse, our good German might have noticed that her

position was preying on her mind, and might have seen his reasons for exposing the deception that Nugent

was practicing on her. For the rest, I still persisted in entreating Lucilla to go back with me to our old friend.

"Remember our conversation on this very subject," she rejoined, shaking her head decisively. "I mean at the

time when the operation was going to be performed. I told you I was used to being blind. I said I only wanted

to recover my sight, to see Oscar. And when I did see himwhat happened? The disappointment was so

dreadful, I wished myself blind again. Don't start! don't cry out as if you were shocked! I mean what I say.

You people who can see, attach such an absurd importance to your eyes! Don't you recollect my saying that,

I recollected perfectly. She had said those words. She had declared that she had never honestly envied any of

us the use of our eyes. She had even reviled our eyes; comparing them contemptuously with her touch;

deriding them as deceivers who were constantly leading us wrong. I acknowledged all thiswithout being in

the least reconciled to the catastrophe that had happened. If she would only have listened to me, I should still

have gone on obstinately pleading with her. But she flatly refused to listen. "We have very little time to

spare," she said. "Let us talk of something more interesting before I am obliged to leave you."

"I cannot honestly tell you that I am a prisoner," she answered. "I can only say I am watched. When Oscar is

away from me, Oscar's cousina sly, suspicious, false womanalways contrives to put herself in his place.

I heard her say to her husband that she believed I should break my marriage engagement unless I was closely

looked after. I don't know what I should do, but for one of the servants in the house, who is an excellent

creaturewho sympathizes with me, and helps me." She stopped, and lifted her head inquiringly. "Where

I had forgotten the woman who had brought her into the room. She must have delicately left us together after

"But for that good creature," Lucilla resumed, "I should never have got here. She brought me your letter, and

read it to me, and wrote my reply. I arranged with her to slip out at the first opportunity. One chance was in

our favorwe had only the cousin to keep an eye on us. Oscar was not in the house."

She suddenly checked herself at the last word. A slight sound at the lower end of the room, which had passed

unnoticed by me, had caught her delicate ear, "What is that noise?" she asked. "Anybody in the room with

I looked up once more. While she was talking of the false Oscar, the true Oscar was standing listening to her,

When he discovered that I was looking at him, he entreated me by a gesture not to betray his presence. He

had evidently heard what we had been saying to each other, before I detected himfor he touched his eyes,

and lifted his hands pityingly in allusion to Lucilla's blindness. Whatever his mood might be, that melancholy

discovery must surely have affected himLucilla's influence over him now, could only be an influence for

good. I signed to him to remainand told Lucilla that there was nothing to be alarmed about. She went on.

"Oscar left us for London early this morning," she said. "Can you guess what he has gone for? He has gone to

get the Marriage Licensehe has given notice of the marriage at the church. My last hope is in you. In spite

of everything that I can say to him, he has fixed the day for the twentyfirstin two days more! I have done

all I could to put it off; I have insisted on every possible delay. Oh, if you knew!" Her rising agitation

stifled her utterance at the moment. "I mustn't waste the precious minutes; I must get back before Oscar

returns," she went on, rallying again. "Oh, my old friend, you are never at a loss; you always know what to

do! Find me some way of putting off my marriage. Suggest something which will take them by surprise, and

I looked towards the lower end of the room. Listening in breathless interest, Oscar had noiselessly advanced

"I can tell you nothing about it," she answered"except that some dreadful change has come over me. While

I had my sight, I could partly account for itI believed that the new sense had made a new being of me. But

now I have lost my sight againnow I am once more what I have been all my lifestill the same horrible

insensibility possesses me. I have so little feeling for him, that I sometimes find it hard to persuade myself

that he really is Oscar. You know how I used to adore him. You know how enchanted I should once have

been to marry him. Think of what I must suffer, feeling towards him as I feel now!"

I looked up again. Oscar had stolen nearer; I could see his face plainly. The good influence of Lucilla was

beginning to do its good work! I saw the tears rising in his eyes; I saw love and pity taking the place of hatred

and revenge. The Oscar of my old recollections was standing before me once more!

"I don't want to go away," Lucilla went on; "I don't want to leave him. All I ask for, is a little more time.

Time must help me to get back again to my old self. My blind days have been the days of my whole life. Can

a few weeks of sight have deprived me of the feelings which have been growing in me for years? I won't

believe it! I can find my way about the house; I can tell things by my touch; I can do all that I did in my

blindness, just as well as ever, now I am blind again. The feeling for him will come back to me like the rest.

At the last word, she started to her feet in sudden alarm. "There is some one in the room," she said. "Some

Oscar was close to us. The tears were falling fast over his cheeksthe one faint sobbing breath which had

escaped him had caught my ear as well as Lucilla's. I took his hand in one of my hands; and I took Lucilla's

hand in the other. For good or for evil, the result rested with God's mercy. The time had come.

With those words, I put her hand in Oscar's handand stood close, watching her face.

For one awful moment, when she first felt the familiar touch, the blood left her cheeks. Her blind eyes dilated

fearfully. She stood petrified. Then, with a long low crya cry of breathless raptureshe flung her arms

passionately round his neck. The life flowed back into her face; her lovely smile just trembled on her parted

lips; her breath came faint and quick and fluttering. In soft tones of ecstasy, with her lips on his cheek, she

Her first exquisite sense of the recognition by touch had passed away. Her mind had recovered its balance.

She separated herself from Oscar, and turned to me, with the one inevitable question which I knew must

The exposure of Nugent's perfidy; the revelation of the fatal secret of Oscar's face; and, last not least, the

defence of my own conduct towards her, were all comprehended in the answer for which that question called.

As carefully, as delicately, as mercifully as I could, I disclosed to her the whole truth. How the shock affected

her, she did not tell me at the time, and has never told me since. With her hand in Oscar's hand, with her face

hidden on Oscar's breast, she listened; not once interrupting me, from first to last, by so much as a single

word. Now and then, I saw her tremble; now and then I heard her sigh heavily. That was all. It was only when

I had endedit was only after a long interval during which Oscar and I watched her in speechless

Those were her first words. They filled me with horror. I cried out to her to recall them.

"Why should I recall them?" she asked. "Do you think I wish to see him disfigured as he is now? No! I wish

to see himand I do see him!as my fancy drew his picture in the first days of our love. My blindness is

my blessing. It has given me back my old delightful sensation when I touch him; it keeps my own beloved

image of himthe one image I care forunchanged and unchangeable. You will persist in thinking that my

happiness depends on my sight. I look back with horror at what I suffered when I had my sightmy one

effort is to forget that miserable time. Oh, how little you know of me! Oh, what a shock it would be to me, if I

saw him as you see him! Try to understand me, and you won't talk of my lossyou will talk of my gain."

"Happiness," she answered. "My life lives in my love. And my love lives in my blindness."

If you had seen her radiant face as she raised it again in the excitement of speaking; if you had remembered

(as I remembered) what her surgeon had said of the penalty which she must inevitably pay for the recovery of

her sighthow would you have answered her? It is barely possible, perhaps, that you might have done what

I did. That is to say: You might have modestly admitted that she knew what the conditions of her happiness

I left them to talk together, and took a turn in the room, considering with myself what we were to do next.

It was not easy to say. The barren information which I had received from my darling was all the information

that I possessed. Nugent had unflinchingly carried his cruel deception to its end. He had falsely given notice

of his marriage at the church, in his brother's name; and he was now in London, falsely obtaining his

Marriage License, in his brother's name also. So much I knew of his proceedingsand no more.

"Why are we stopping here?" she asked. "Let us goand never return to this hateful place again!"

I answered the knock. The woman who had brought Lucilla to the hotel appeared once more. She seemed to

be afraid to venture far from the door. Standing just inside the room, she looked nervously at Lucilla, and

"You can say anything you like, before this lady and gentleman," Lucilla answered. "What is it?"

"By the lady's maid. I saw her, a little while since, looking up at the hoteland then she went back in a hurry

"We have made a mistake about the railway," said the woman. "There's a train from London that we didn't

notice in the timetable. They tell me downstairs it came in more than a quarter of an hour ago. Please to

She had barely taken her seat again between Oscar and me, before the door was softly opened from the

outside. A long thin nervous hand stole in through the opening; took the servant by the arm; and drew her out

into the passage. In her place, a man entered the room with his hat on. The man was Nugent Dubourg.

He stopped where the servant had stopped. He looked at Lucilla; he looked at his brother; he looked at me.

Not a word fell from him. There he stood, fronting the friend whom he had calumniated and the brother

whom he had betrayed. There he stoodwith his eyes fixed on Lucilla, sitting between usknowing that it

was all over; knowing that the woman for whom he had degraded himself, was a woman parted from him for

ever. There he stood, in the hell of his own makingand devoured his torture in silence.

On his brother's appearance, Oscar had risen, and had raised Lucilla with him. He now advanced a step

I followed them, eagerly watching his face. There was no fear in me now of what he might do. Lucilla's

blessed influence had found, and cast out, the lurking demon that had been hidden in him. With a mind

attentive but not alarmed, I waited to see how he would meet the emergency that confronted him.

Lucilla, hearing Oscar pronounce the name, instantly understood what had happened. She shuddered with

horror. Oscar gently placed her in my arms, and advanced again alone towards his brother. His face expressed

the struggle in him of some subtlymingling influences of love and anguish, of sorrow and shame. He

recalled to me in the strangest manner my past experience of him, when he had first trusted me with the story

of the Trial, and when he had told me that Nugent was the good angel of his life.

He went up to the place at which his brother was standing. In the simple, boyish way, so familiar to me in the

"Nugent!" he said. "Are you the same dear good brother who saved me from dying on the scaffold, and who

cheered my hard life afterwards? Are you the same bright, clever, noble fellow that I was always so fond of,

He paused, and removed his brother's hat. With careful, caressing hand, he parted his brother's ruffled hair

over the forehead. Nugent's head sank lower. His face was distorted, his hands were clenched, in the dumb

agony of remembrance which that tender voice and that kind hand had set loose in him. Oscar gave him time

"You know Nugent," he said. "You remember when we first met, my telling you that Nugent was an angel?

You saw for yourself, when he came to Dimchurch, how kindly he helped me; how faithfully he kept my

secrets; what a true friend he was. Look at himand you will feel, as I do, that we have misunderstood and

misinterpreted him, in some monstrous way." He turned again to Nugent. "I daren't tell you," he went on,

"what I have heard about you, and what I have believed about you, and what vile unbrotherly thoughts I have

had of being revenged on you. Thank God, they are gone! My dear fellow, I look back at themnow I see

youas I might look back at a horrible dream. How can I see you, Nugent, and believe that you have been

false to me? You, a villain who has tried to rob poor Me of the only woman in the world who cares for me!

You, so handsome and so popular, who may marry any woman you like! It can't be. You have drifted

innocently into some false position without knowing it. Defend yourself. No. Let me defend you. You shan't

humble yourself to anybody. Tell me how you have really acted towards Lucilla, and towards meand leave

it to your brother to set you right with everybody. Come, Nugent! lift up your headand tell me what I shall

Ghastly as his face was, I saw something in his eyes, when he first fixed them on his brother, which again

reminded me of past daysthe days when he had joined us at Dimchurch, and when he used to talk of "poor

Oscar" in the tender, lighthearted way that first won me. I thought once more of the memorable

nightinterview between us at Browndown, when Oscar had left England. Again, I called to mind the signs

which had told of the nobler nature of the man pleading with him. Again, I remembered the remorse which

had moved him to tearsthe effort he had made in my presence to atone for past misdoing, and to struggle

for the last time against the guilty passion that possessed him. Was the nature which could feel that remorse

utterly depraved? Was the man who had made that effortthe last of many that had gone before

"Wait!" I whispered to Lucilla, trembling and weeping in my arms. "He will deserve our sympathy; he will

"Say," he answered, "that I gave notice of your marriage at the church hereand that I went to London and

He handed the sheet of paper to his brother. It was the Marriage License, taken out in his brother's name.

He threw one arm in his old easy protecting way round his brother. His hand, as he did this, touched the

breastpocket of Oscar's coat. Before it was possible to stop him, his dexterous fingers had opened the

pocket, and had taken from it a little toypistol with a chased silver handle of Oscar's own workmanship.

"Was this for me?" he asked, with a faint smile. "My poor boy! you could never have done it, could you?" He

kissed Oscar's dark cheek, and put the pistol into his own pocket. "The handle is your work," he said. "I shall

take it as your present to me. Return to Browndown when you are married. I am going to travel again. You

He put his brother back from him with a firm and gentle hand. I attempted to advance with Lucilla, and speak

to him. Something in his facelooking at me out of his mournful eyes, calm, stern, and superhuman, like a

look of doomwarned me back from him, and filled me with the foreboding that I should see him no more.

He walked to the door, and opened itturnedand, fixing his farewell look on Lucilla, saluted us silently

with a bend of his head. The door closed on him softly. In a few minutes only from the time when he had

We waited, spellboundwe could not speak. The void that he left behind him was dreary and dreadful. I

was the first who moved. In silence, I led Lucilla back to our seat on the sofa, and beckoned to Oscar to go to

This done, I left themand went out to meet Lucilla's father, on his return to the hotel. I wished to prevent

him from disturbing them. After what had happened, it was good for those two to be alone.

TWELVE years have passed since the events occurred which it has been the business of these pages to relate.

I am at my desk; looking idly at all the leaves of writing which my pen has filled, and asking myself if there

Oscar and Lucilla claim me first. Two days after they were restored to each other at Sydenham, they were

married at the church in that place. It was a dull wedding. Nobody was in spirits but Mr. Finch. We parted in

London. The bride and bridegroom returned to Browndown. The rector remained in town for a day or two

visiting some friends. I went back to my father, to accompany him, as I had promised, on his journey from

As well as I remember, I remained a fortnight abroad. In the course of that time, I received kind letters from

Nugent's letter was not a long one. It was dated at Liverpool, and it announced his embarkation for America

in two hours' time. He had heard of a new expedition to the Arctic regionsthen fitting out in the United

Stateswith the object of discovering the open Polar sea, supposed to be situated between Spitzbergen and

Nova Zembla. It had instantly struck him that this expedition offered an entirely new field of study to a

landscape painter in search of the sublimest aspects of Nature. He had decided on volunteering to join the

Arctic explorersand he had already raised the necessary money for his outfit by the sale of the only

valuables he possessedhis jewelry and his books. If he wanted more, he engaged to apply to Oscar. In any

case, he promised to write again, before the expedition sailed. And so, for the present only, he would bid his

brother and sister affectionately farewell.When I afterwards looked at the letter myself, I found nothing in

it which referred in the slightest degree to the past, or which hinted at the state of the writer's own health and

I returned to our remote Southdown village; and occupied the room which Lucilla had herself prepared for

I found the married pair as tranquil and as happy in their union as a man and woman could be. The absent

Nugent dwelt a little sadly in their minds at times, I suspect, as well as in mine. It was perhaps on this

account, that Lucilla appeared to me to be quieter than she used to be in her maiden days. However, my

presence did something towards restoring her to her old spiritsand Grosse's speedy arrival exerted its

As soon as the gout would let him get on his feet, he presented himself with his instruments, at Browndown,

"If my operations had failed," he said, "I should not have plagued you no more. But my operations has not

failed: it is you who have failed to take care of your nice new eyes when I gave them to you."

In those terms he endeavored to persuade her to let him attempt another operation. She steadily refused to

More than once afterwards Grosse tried to make her change her mind. He tried in vain. The disputes between

the two made the house ring again. Lucilla found all her old gaiety, in refuting the grotesque arguments and

persuasions of our worthy German. To mewhen I once or twice attempted to shake her resolutionshe

replied in another way, merely repeating the words she had said to me at Sydenham: "My life lives in my

love. And my love lives in my blindness." It is only right to add that Mr. Sebright, and another competent

authority consulted with him, declared unhesitatingly that she was right. Under the circumstances, Mr.

Sebright was of opinion that the success of Grosse's operation could never have been more than temporary.

His colleague, after examining Lucilla's eyes, at a later period, entirely agreed with him. Which was in the

rightthese two or Grossewho can say? As blind Lucilla, you first knew her. As blind Lucilla, you see the

last of her now. If you feel inclined to regret this, remember that the one thing essential was the thing she

possessed. Her life was a happy one. Bear this in mindand don't forget that your conditions of happiness

In the time I am now writing of, the second letter from Nugent arrived. It was written the evening before he

sailed for the Polar seas. One line in it touched us deeply. "Who knows whether I shall ever see England

Enclosed in this letter was a private communication from Nugent, addressed to me. It was the confession to

which I have alluded in my notes attached to Lucilla's Journal. These words only were added at the end: "You

now know everything. Forgive meif you can. I have not escaped without suffering; remember that." After

making use of the narrative, as you already know, I have burnt it all, except those last lines.

At distant intervals, we heard twice of the exploring ship, from whaling vessels. Then, there was a long

dreary interval, without news of any sort. Then, a dreadful report that the expedition was lost. Then, the

confirmation of the reporta lapse of a whole year, and no tidings of the missing men.

They were well provided with supplies of all kinds; and there was a general hope that they might be holding

out. A new expedition was sentand sent vainlyin search of them overland. Rewards were offered to

whaling vessels to find them, and were never earned. We wore mourning for Nugent; we were a melancholy

household. Two more years passedbefore the fate of the expedition was discovered. A ship in the whale

trade, driven out of her course, fell in with a wrecked and dismantled vessel, lost in the ice. Let the last

"*** The wreck was drifting along a channel of open water, when we first saw it. Before long, it was brought

up by an iceberg. I got into my boat with some of my sailors, and we rowed to the vessel.

"Not a man was to be seen on the deck, which was covered with snow. We hailed, and got no reply. I looked

in through one of the circular glazed portholes astern, and saw dimly the figure of a man seated at a table. I

knocked on the thick glass, but he never moved. We got on deck, and opened the cabin hatchway, and went

below. The man I had seen was before us, at the end of the cabin. I led the way, and spoke to him. He made

no answer. I looked closer, and touched one of his hands which lay on the table. To my horror and

" 'Seventeen days since we have been shut up in the ice: Our fire went out yesterday. The captain tried to

light it again, and has failed. The surgeon and two seamen died of cold this morning. The rest of us must soon

"There the hand that held the pen had dropped into the writer's lap. The left hand still lay on the table.

Between the frozen fingers, we found a long lock of a woman's hair, tied at each end with a blue ribbon. The

"The name of this man was found in his pocketbook. It was Nugent Dubourg. I publish the name in my

"Examination of the rest of the vessel, and comparison of dates with the date of the logbook, showed that

the officers and crew had been dead for more than two years. The positions in which we found the frozen

men, and the names, where it was possible to discover them, are here set forth as follows. * * *"

That "lock of a woman's hair" is now in Lucilla's possession. It will be buried with her, at her own request,

when she dies. Ah, poor Nugent! Are we not all sinners? Remember the best of him, and forget the worst, as I

I still linger over my writingreluctant to leave it, if the truth must be told. But what more is there to say? I

hear Oscar hammering away at his chasing, and whistling blithely over his work. In another room, Lucilla is

teaching the piano to her little girl. On my table is a letter from Mrs. Finch, dated from one of our distant

coloniesover which Mr. Finch (who has risen gloriously in the world) presides pastorally as bishop. He

harangues the "natives" to his heart's content: and the wonderful natives like it. "Jicks" is in her element

among the aboriginal members of her father's congregation: there are fears that the wandering Arab of the

Finch family will end in marrying "a chief." Mrs. FinchI don't expect you to believe thisis anticipating

another confinement. Lucilla's eldest boycalled Nugenthas just come in, and stands by my desk. He lifts

his bright blue eyes up to mine; his round rosy face expresses strong disapproval of what I am doing.

The boy is right. I must put away my manuscript and leave you. My excellent spirits are a little dashed at

parting. I wonder whether you are sorry too? I shall never know! Well, I have many blessings to comfort me,

on closing my relations with you. I have kind souls who love me; andobserve this!I stand on my

political principles as firmly as ever. The world is getting converted to my way of thinking: the Pratolungo

programme, my friends, is coming to the front with giant steps. Long live the Republic! Farewell.

34. CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIRST. "Who Shall Decide when Doctors disagree?", page = 127