hink I will ask her to be my wife, and every day I put it
off till another time. The reason is, that I fear to disturb this
pleasant season. I don't know what she thinks about Mr. Colman. She has
never mentioned his name.

There are more ways of telling things than by word of mouth. I set my
love before her in a thousand ways, and she never throws it back upon
me. I shall give her the letter to-morrow.

* * * * *

_June 16._--Yesterday, after tea, we sat all together, in mammy's room,
till almost dark. She was in an uneasy way, and daddy calmed her down by
saying hymns to her,--the very ones she used to read to him. Elinor was
making a wreath of oak-leaves for a young girl in the next house, who
was going to have a party. I was picking out for her the fairest leaves,
equal in size. Daddy said his verses in a sing-song way, so that mammy
at last fell quietly asleep, and we spoke to each other softly, so as
not to disturb her.

All at once daddy spoke out; and says he, in a slow, quiet way: "Blind
folks, you know, hear very quick. I do myself, and sometimes even more
than is spoken. For instance, to-night, when Walter says, 'Here is a
beautiful leaf for you,' I can hear, 'I love you with all my heart.' And
when Elinor says, 'And it will just match this one,' I can hear, 'You
can't love me any more than I do you.' Now, children, what are you
waiting for?"

Dear old man! I felt like throwing my arms right about his neck, and
started up for that purpose. But Elinor came first, and so--

"Never mind me," says daddy, "I'm blind, you know."

Whereupon, I explained that Elinor had taken what was meant for him.

And when we grew a little calm he began to plan plans.

And after that we two took a long walk; and neither of us knew whither
we went, or how long we stayed. But during the walk she confessed to me
her belief, that God made the heart, as well as the soul, and would
never require one to be crushed for the sake of the other. She gave me
Mr. Colman's letter. It was as follows:--

[Omitted.]

About one o'clock, I should think it was, that night, something
happened, and, when daylight came, I hardly knew whether it had happened
or not.

I had been lying awake some hours, recalling all my past life,--thinking
over and over again how a poor, friendless boy had reached a great
happiness; and every time I came to the happiness, tears of joy would
fill my eyes, and I could not sleep, a