The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1893-09-28


my state of mind-how should youl
I knew perfectly that Lucy took this
man for Bedford. who was one of my
best friends. Indeed she had seen
me, SO to say, parade my affection
by walking arm in arm-she could
not have been other than gracious to
him. Yet, you see, I was concen-
trated on my one idea. She must
spare me the pain and humiliation of
telling her that I was blind Good
heavens! I thought, surely she might
have unprecedented from my voice or
from my look that needed her con.
ISOLATION.
Twas raging against her slownese
to observe (she tells me now that
had looked so distracted in the morn
ing that there was not much change
apparently. And there was the devil
in me prompting me to think that
but for this mans good looks she
would have been forced to notice my
distress. I was determined not to
ask her pity. All wish to spare her
shock had gone clean from me.
She came in and threw herself
down on the sofa, exhausted with
the heat.
"Well," she said, Il must say you
never prepared me for such a fine
young man. Perfectly my ideal. But
isn't he surprisingly shy2'
Certainly" replied, "he left you
to make the running"
said it with laugh, l know, but
twas not pleasantly said. She looked
at me then, I suppose, for the first
time.
"Why, what is the matter2 You
are as white as sheet"
"Oh, it's nothing,"I said. THAT
place was overpOwering."
Lucy asked me to open the win
dow. I had not reckoned on that.
But knew there was an open space
from the chair I sat in across the
room, so I rose and walked forward
as confidently as could. Unluckily.
there was one of these little toy ta-
bles in the way. l tripped over it
and nearly fell.
"Bless the boyr Lucy cried out.
"Why, what is the matter2 You
nearly carried away lamppost on
the way home, and now you are
breaking the furniture.
I turned round and said with all the
sting I could put into my voice:
my dear child, if l am suffering
for having accompanied you to your
devotions, is that reason you should
snap at me?"
was only sorry could not think
of something memorably savage to
say. But the tone was enough. I
heard her turn on the sofa and begin
to sob. Then a great remorse seized
me. I forgot myself and made to go
to her. But in the stumble l had
lost my bearings, so I walked crash
into the table and instinctively I put
out my hand to feel my way.
Lucy saw me. She sprang up and
screamed and caughtm me in her arms.
''Oh, what is it? What is it?''
She drew me to the sofa and held
me there. Say it isn't that-not
that" she was sobbing out.
The hardness in my heart was
melting like ice, and there was a
great lump in my throat. But the
devil in me made one last effort. 80
you have found me out at last.
Really handsome young man is a
capital screen"
I felt her finch, but she drew my
head closer to her, for all I could say.
"Oh, my poor boy, my poor boy, and
I never guessed"
l struggled to get free, butin mo-
ment broke down, and then was
crying like a child, sobbing against
her throbbing breast.
It was she who recovered first.
Then I learned what it was to have a
wife who cared for you. had never
been nursed or taken care of since I
was boy, and of us two l had been
always the self reliant one. But that
night l slept while she watched be-
side me. She read my heart to me
as if it had been book-all the old
quarrels, the old fancied grievances
and the shutting up Of my heart
against her-and blamed herself,
poor soul, for dullness because she
had not sooner understood it. was
almost happy before I slept that
night.
Next day we saw the doctor. He
tried some severe tests on my eyes
that hurt me, but there was some
thing in the tone Of his questions
that I could not understand. When
he told me that there was hope I
might recover from the shock, I was
perfectly certain he did not mean
just what he said, and told him to
let me know the worst. But he per-
sisted. Then I tried to cross exam
ine him on his reasons, but he put
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