be almost a profanation for me to
admire the sweet oval of her face. Upon her alabaster skin, the black
eyebrows, the long lashes, the faint blue veins and the curving red lips
stood in exquisite relief. While she was descending the stairs, I caught a
gleam of her round, snowy forearm and wrist; and when my eyes sought the
perfect curves of her form disclosed by the clinging silk gown she wore, I
felt that I had sinned in looking upon her, and I was almost glad she
could not see the shame which was in my face.

"Cousin Malcolm, are you waiting?" she asked from midway in the staircase.

"Yes, I am at the foot of the steps," I answered.

"I called you 'Cousin Malcolm,'" she said, holding out her hand when she
came near me. "Pardon me; it was a slip of the tongue. I hear 'Cousin
Malcolm' so frequently from Dorothy that the name is familiar to me."

"I shall be proud if you will call me 'Cousin Malcolm' always. I like the
name better than any that you can use."

"If you wish it," she said, in sweet, simple candor, "I will call you
'Cousin Malcolm,' and you may call me 'Cousin Madge' or 'Madge,' just as
you please."

"'Cousin Madge' it shall be; that is a compact," I answered, as I opened
the door and we walked out into the fresh air of the bright October
morning.

"That will stand for our first compact; we are progressing famously," she
said, with a low laugh of delight.

Ah, to think that the blind can laugh. God is good.

We walked out past the stables and the cottage, and crossed the river on
the great stone bridge. Then we took our way down the babbling Wye,
keeping close to its banks, while the dancing waters and even the gleaming
pebbles seemed to dimple and smile as they softly sang their song of
welcome to the fair kindred spirit who had come to visit them. If we
wandered from the banks for but a moment, the waters seemed to struggle
and turn in their course until they were again by her side, and then would
they gently flow and murmur their contentment as they travelled forward to
the sea, full of the memory of her sweet presence. And during all that
time I led her by the hand. I tell you, friends, 'tis sweet to write of
it.

When we returned we crossed the Wye by the stone footbridge and entered
the garden below the terrace at the corner postern. We remained for an
hour resting upon the terrace balustrade, and before we went indoors Madge
again spoke of Dorothy.

"I cannot tell you how much I have enjo