eemed to nestle there,
John Grange uttered a hoarse cry.

"Who--who is this?" he whispered then.

For answer there was a quick, rustling sound, as of some one kneeling
down by the couch, and then there was wild sobbing and panting as a
soft, wet cheek was laid against his hands.

"Miss Ellis--Mary!" he cried wildly; and the answer came at once.

"Oh, John, John, I could not bear it--I could not let you go without one
word."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

In those few joyous moments the darkness became light, dazzling light,
to John Grange; misery, despair, the blank life before him, had dropped
away, and the future spread out in a vista wherein hope shone brightly,
and all was illumined by the sweet love of a true-hearted woman.

He would have been less than man if he had not drawn the half-shrinking,
half-yielding figure to his heart, and held Mary tightly there as,
amidst tears and sobs, she confessed how she had long felt that he loved
her, but doubted herself the reality of the new sensation which had made
her pleased to see him, while when she met him as they spoke something
seemed to urge her to avoid him, and look hard, distant, and cold. Then
the terrible misfortune had come, and she knew the truth; the bud grew
and had opened, and she trembled lest any one should divine her secret,
till she knew that he was to go away believing that she might care for
Daniel Barnett; in suffering and mental pain, needing all that those who
cared for him could do to soften his pitiable case; and at last,
believing that she alone could send him away hopeful and patient to bear
his awful infirmity, she had cast off all reserve and come to say
good-bye.

"And you will not think the less of me?" she whispered appealingly.

"Think the less of you!" he cried proudly; "how can you ask that? Mary,
you send me away happy. I shall go patient and hopeful, believing that
the doctors can and will give me back my sight, and ready to wait till I
may come back to you, my own love--for I do love you, dear. This year
past my every thought has been of you, and I have worked and studied to
make myself worthy, but always in despair, for I felt that you could not
care for one like me, and that--"

"How could you think it?" she whispered tenderly, as she nestled to him.
"I never, never could have cared for him, John, nor for any one but
you."

And for those brief minutes all was the brightest of life's sunshine in
that humble room. There were