hand being unsteady, and he spilt it all----"

"On your eyes?" shrieked Gertrude.

Emily bowed her head.

"Oh, poor Emily!" cried Gertrude, "and wretched, wretched young man!"

"Wretched indeed!" ejaculated Emily. "Bestow all your pity on him,
Gertrude, for his was the harder fate of the two."

"Oh, Emily! how intense must have been the pain you endured! How could
you suffer so, and live?"

"Do you mean the pain from my eyes? That was severe indeed, but the
mental agony was worse!"

"What became of him?" said Gertrude.

"I cannot give you an exact account of what followed. I was in no state
to know anything of my father's treatment of his step-son. He banished
him from his sight and knowledge for ever; and it is easy to believe it
was with no added gentleness, since he had now, besides the other crimes
imputed to him, been the cause of his daughter's blindness."

"And did you never hear from him again?"

"Yes. Through the good doctor--who alone knew all the circumstances--I
learned that he had sailed for South America; and in the hope of once
more communicating with the poor exile, and assuring him of my continued
love, I rallied from the sickness, fever, and blindness into which I had
fallen; the doctor had even a thought of restoring sight to my eyes.
Several months passed, and my kind friend, who was persevering in his
inquiries, having learned the residence and address of the ill-fated
youth, I was commencing, through the aid of Mrs. Ellis (whom pity had
now won to my service), a letter of love, and an entreaty for his
return, when a fatal seal was put to all my earthly hopes. He died in a
foreign land, alone, unnursed, and uncared for; he died of that
southern disease which takes the stranger for its victim; and I, on
hearing the news of it, sunk back into a more pitiable malady; and--and
alas, for the encouragement of the good doctor had held out of my
gradual restoration to sight!--I wept all his hopes away!"

Emily paused. Gertrude put her arms around her, and they clung closely
to each other; grief and sorrow made their union dearer than ever.

"I was then, Gertrude," continued Emily, "a child of the world, eager
for worldly pleasures, and ignorant of any other. For a time, therefore,
I dwelt in utter darkness--the darkness of despair. I began, too, again
to feel my bodily strength restored, and to look forward to a useless
and miserable life. You can form no idea of the utter wretchedness in
whi