deed it is your fault, and I thought it better to tell you the
truth. Good-bye, my poor boy;" but though her voice was full of
gentleness and pity, he scarcely heard it. He had wrung her hands,
almost throwing them from him, and had turned away without a word.

Crystal looked after him rather wistfully; her heart felt strangely
soft to him to-night. "Was it wrong to tell him, I wonder?" she said
to herself, as she quickly retraced her steps. "He is terribly
reckless, one never knows how he may take things. It was good of him
to listen to me so patiently; and now he has gone away sore and
angry."

Crystal was walking very fast now, as though she had suddenly
remembered some errand. As an empty hansom passed her she hailed it.
"Will you drive me to Victoria Station," she said to the man in a
business-like tone; "I want to meet the 6:30 train from Singleton. I
think there is time."

"None too much," was the somewhat gruff answer, "but my horse is
fresh;" and Crystal drew into a corner and tried to curb her
impatience by watching the passers-by; but her fear of being too late
kept her restless and miserable.

As they drove into Victoria Station a handsome barouche, with a pair
of fine bays, attracted Crystal's attention. The footman had got down
and was making inquiries of a porter. "Singleton train just due,"
Crystal heard the man say, as she handed the cabman his fare; and as
she quickly passed through the station, the train slowly drew up at
the platform.

Only just in time! Crystal pressed eagerly forward, scanning the
occupants of all the carriages until she came to the last.

There were two passengers in this compartment; a young lady, with a
good-natured freckled face, was speaking to a very tall man who was
standing in the center of the carriage. "You must let me help you
out," Crystal heard her say in a pleasant countrified voice, "and wait
with you until your friends find you;" and then came the answer in the
deep tones Crystal knew so well.

"Thank you, you are very kind. My unfortunate infirmity gains new
friends for me everywhere; so after all, you see, even blindness has
its alleviations, Miss Merriman."

"Oh, I will be sure to tell papa what you say; it will be such a
comfort to him. Now, will you put your hand on my shoulder--it is a
deep step--take care;" but as Raby tried to follow this instruction, a
little gloved hand, that certainly did not belong to Miss Merriman,
gently guided him and place