hing, clever Master Roderick. Your naughty Cousin Eudora
had something to do with that; but, luckily, she can put her own work
straight again. Cousin Madeline, what do you think of my pretty
light?"

"Eudora, it is dreadful."

"Then shut your eyes, poor thing, we don't want to blind you. But
Roderick and I have not done talking yet. Come, little boy, lift up
your face towards me, and open those pretty eyes wide, that I may see
if I can't do them some good. Why, they are as blue as the water round
our island! There, now, they are looking at my face. Mind you tell me
if you think me pretty."

"Eudora!" exclaimed Madeline.

"Sit down, sit down, and shut your eyes, good woman. Now, Roderick,
wont even my Fairy light break through your darkness?"

"I think it will," sighed Roderick; "there is a white light all round
me, as if I had gone up into a bright white cloud. You frighten me,
Fairy! Take away the light, and put me back into the darkness again."

"Not so, my pretty Roderick; but I will soften it a little;" and she
waved her wand, and the brilliancy subsided.

"Fairy, I see you now," screamed Roderick, springing up, for he was
sitting at her feet; "and oh, how beautiful you are!"

"Roderick!" cried a voice from behind him. He turned; and Mother and
Son were locked in each other's arms.

Surely I need say no more about this? though perhaps nobody but a
Mother can quite know how happy and thankful Lady Madeline was. And as
to Roderick, he was delighted too! Not but what he had been very happy
and contented before; but sight was a new pleasure to him now; a sort
of treat, like a birthday or Christmas present, which puts every one
into high spirits. It was so charming to him, poor fellow, (for he was
very affectionate), to actually _see_ his Mamma again; and this put
something else into his head, and off he ran out of the room.

"Eudora," Madeline began, "how am I to thank you! Can you ever forgive
my old unkindness?"

"Cousin Madeline," replied the Fairy, "I bear no malice to any one,
least of all to you, who come of a race I love, and of a family I
consider my own. No, no, good soul. I have never borne you ill-will,
though my kindness has been severe. Look! I know you love me _now_.
Love me always, Cousin Madeline, and let me ramble undisturbed about
your earthly home; but, mind! no more unkind wishes, however slight.
They come like evil winds to our Fairy island. You kept me away long
enough by those; and w