eep for
thinkin' 'at the day _will_ come whan I'll see--wi' my ain open
een--the verra face o' him that bore oor griefs an' carried oor
sorrows, till I jist lie and greit, for verra wissin', ye wadna say 'at
I dinna ken what the sicht o' a body's een is. Sae nae mair o' that! I
beg o' ye, or I'll jist need to gang to my prayers to haud me ohn been
angry wi' ane o' the Lord's bairns; for that ye _are_, I do believe,
Annie Anderson. Ye canna ken what blin'ness is; but I doobt ye ken what
the licht is, lassie; and, for the lave (rest), jist ye lippen (trust)
to John Milton and me."

Annie dared not say another word. She sat silent--perhaps rebuked. But
Tibbie resumed:

"Ye maunna think, hooever, 'cause sic longin' thouchts come ower me,
that I gang aboot the hoose girnin' and compleenin' that I canna open
the door and win oot. Na, na. I could jist despise the licht, whiles,
that ye mak' sic a wark aboot, and sing and shout, as the Psalmist
says; for I'm jist that glaid, that I dinna ken hoo to haud it in. For
the Lord's my frien'. I can jist tell him a' that comes into my puir
blin' heid. Ye see there's ither ways for things to come intil a body's
heid. There's mair doors nor the een. There's back doors, whiles, that
lat ye oot to the bonnie gairden, and that's better nor the road-side.
And the smell o' the braw flooers comes in at the back winnocks, ye
ken.--Whilk o' the bonnie flooers do ye think likest _Him_, Annie
Anderson?"

"Eh! I dinna ken, Tibbie. I'm thinkin' they maun be a' like him."

"Ay, ay, nae doobt. But some o' them may be liker him nor ithers."

"Weel, whilk do _ye_ think likest him, Tibbie?"

"I think it maun be the minnonette--sae clean and sae fine and sae weel
content."

"Ay, ye're speiken by the smell, Tibbie. But gin ye saw the rose--"

"Hoots! I hae seen the rose mony a time. Nae doobt it's bonnier to luik
at--" and here her fingers went moving about as if they were feeling
the full-blown sphere of a rose--"but I think, for my pairt, that the
minnonette's likest Him."

"May be," was all Annie's reply, and Tibbie went on.

"There maun be faces liker him nor ithers. Come here, Annie, and lat me
fin (feel) whether ye be like him or no."

"Hoo can ye ken that?--ye never saw him."

"Never saw him! I hae seen him ower and ower again. I see him whan I
like. Come here, I say."

Annie went and knelt down beside her, and the blind woman passed her
questioning fingers in solemn silence over an