them?" said Rupert, a little surprised.

"I came to tell them now."

"You have been away? Ah, yes, I heard you talking about a visit to
Edinburgh some time ago: you have been there, perhaps? I came to see
your father--to see you all, so that you should not learn the story
first from the newspapers, but I was too late to shield you, Kitty."

"Yes," she said, with a weary sigh; "too late."

"I have brought the man Mason with me. He will tell you a great deal
more than you can read in the newspapers. Would you like to see him now?
Or will you wait until your father comes?"

"I will wait, I think," said Kitty, very gently. "They will not be long
now. Sit down, Mr. Vivian. I hope you have had all that you want."

"What is the matter, Kitty?" asked Vivian, with (for him) extraordinary
abruptness. "Why have you taken away your hand, child? What have I
done?"

She made no answer.

"You are in trouble, Kitty. Can I not comfort you a little? I would give
a great deal to be able to do it. But the day for that is gone by."

"Yes, it is gone by," echoed Kitty once more in the tones that never
used to be so sad.

"It is selfish to talk about myself when you have this great loss to
bear," he pursued; "and yet I must tell you what has happened to me
lately, so that you may understand what perhaps seems strange to you. Am
I altered, Kitty? Do I look changed to your eyes in any way?"

"No," she answered, hesitatingly; "I think not. But people do not change
very easily in appearance, do they? Whatever happens, they are the same.
I am not at all altered, they tell me, since--since you were here."

"Why should you be?" said Rupert, vaguely touched, he knew not why, by
the pathetic quality that had crept into her voice. "Even a great
sorrow, like this one, does not change us in a single day. But I have
had some weeks in which to think of my loss; small and personal though
it may seem to you."

"What loss?" said Kitty.

"Is it no loss to think that I shall never see your face again, Kitty? I
am blind."

"Blind!" She said the word again, with a strange thrill in her voice.
"Blind!"

"Not quite, just yet," said Rupert, quietly, but with a resolute
cheerfulness. "I know that you are standing there, and I can still grope
my way amongst the tables and chairs in a room, without making many
mistakes: but I cannot see your sweet eyes and mouth, Kitty, and I shall
never look upon the purple hills again. Do you remember that we pla