out opening his eyes.

"Oliver!--dearest!" She dropped a protesting kiss on the sleeve of his
coat.

Silence for a little, Alicia felt as if she could hardly breathe in the
hot room. Then Oliver raised himself.

"I am going blind!"--he said, violently. "And nothing can be done. Did
that man tell my mother that?"

"No, no!--Oliver!" She threw her arm round him, hastily repeating and
softening Nixon's opinion.

He sank back on his cushions, gloomily listening--without assent.
Presently he shook his head.

"The stuff that doctors talk when they can do no good, and want to get
comfortably out of the house! Alicia!"

She bent forward startled.

"Alicia!--are you going to stick to me?"

His eyes held her.

"Oliver!--what a cruel question!"

"No, it is not cruel." He spoke with a decision which took no account of
her caresses. "I ought to give you up--I know that perfectly well. But
I tell you frankly I shall have no motive to get well if you leave me. I
think that man told me the truth--I did my best to make him. There _is_
a chance of my getting well--the thing is _not_ hopeless. If you'll
stand by me, I'll fight through. Will you?" He looked at her with a
threatening and painful eagerness.

"Of course I will," she said, promptly.

"Then let us tell my mother to-night that we are engaged? Mind, I am not
deceiving you. I would give you up at once if I were hopelessly ill. I
am only asking you to bear a little waiting--and wretchedness--for
my sake."

"I will bear anything. Only, dear Oliver--for your sake--for mine--wait
a little longer! You know what horrible gossip there's been!" She clung
to him, murmuring: "I couldn't bear that anybody should speak or think
harshly of you now. It can make no difference to you and me, but two or
three months hence everybody would take it so differently. You know we
said in June--six months."

Her voice was coaxing and sweet. He partly withdrew himself from her,
however.

"At least, you can tell my mother," he said, insisting. "Of course, she
suspects it all."

"Oh, but, dear Oliver!"--she brought her face nearer to his, and he saw
the tears in her eyes--"one's own mother ought to know first of all.
Mamma would be so hurt--she would never forgive me. Let me pay this
horrid visit--and then go home and tell my people--if you really, really
wish it. Afterward of course, I shall come back to you--and Cousin Lucy
shall know--and at Christmas--everybody."

"What visit? Y