"It will be G.o.d's will."

"And if it end as I hope and trust--as I fancy it will, Sid--then you must pay that debt, or I'll never forgive you."

"In what way can I ever repay it?"

"By taking your old place at the banker's desk, and showing me that the past is really forgiven."

"I will do that if--ah! what a mighty If this is!"

"Keep hopeful--not nervous, above all the things," said the doctor; "if you fear, it must not be attempted."

With this final warning, the doctor and Maurice withdrew. Maurice left the doctor to whisper confidentially to Mattie.

"Miss Gray, I have brought a skilful oculist to look at my cousin Sid.

He reports not altogether unfavourably--he gives us hope--Sid will go away with us to-morrow."

"Go away!"

"Yes, to submit himself for a week or two to Dr. Bario's treatment; he says that he will chance the danger, and I think he's right. Keep him strong and hopeful, Miss Gray--much depends upon that."

"Yes--yes," gasped Mattie.

She had not recovered her astonishment when the visitor had left the shop; "hope for Sidney"--"going away!"--"keep him strong!"--was all this a dream?

"Mattie," called Sidney from the parlour, and our heroine rushed in at once and found our hero walking up and down the room with a freer step than she had witnessed in him since his blindness.

"Mattie," he said in an agitated voice, "he tells me that there is a chance of the light coming back to me--a chance that entails danger, but which is surely worth the risk. Think of the daylight streaming in upon my darkened senses, and my waking up once more to life!"

"I am so glad!--I am so very glad!" cried Mattie; adding the instant afterwards, "but the--the danger? What is that?"

"A danger of death, or of my going mad, he left it doubtful which--I don't care which--I can risk all for the one chance ahead of me. I will keep strong, praying for the brightness of the new life."

"Yes!" was the mournful response. In that brightness, one figure might at least grow dim--in the darkness he had learned to love her, he said!

But he was not thinking of love then, or of her whose love he had sought;--a new hope was bewildering him, and he could not escape it.

"Keep him strong and hopeful," had been the caution given Mattie; there was no need for it. He _was_ hopeful--far too hopeful--of the sunshine; he thought nothing of the danger, or of a world a hundred times worse than that of his benighted one--and he was strong in faith. He could talk of nothing else, and Mattie made no effort to distract his mind away from it. It was natural enough that he should forget her for awhile; the time had not come for her to answer him, or to judge him; he had said that his mind was made up, and that she possessed his love--surely they were earnest words enough, to keep her hopeful in her turn?

And if the change in Sidney did result in Sidney's cure, she would rejoice in it with all her heart--as his father would have rejoiced, had he lived and known the troubles of his boy.

The next day, Maurice Hinchford arrived in his father's carriage to take Sidney away. Sidney was equipped for departure, and had been waiting for his cousin the last two hours--agitating his mind with a hundred reasons for the delay.

The carriage at the door, and the evidence of wealth in Sidney's relations, made Mattie's heart sink somewhat--his would be a world so different from hers for ever after this!

Mattie faced Maurice before he entered the parlour. She had been watching for him also that day, and now arrested his progress.

"Mr. Hinchford, you did me harm once; you were sorry at a later day that it was not in your power, to make amends. Will you now?"

"Willingly."

"Let me know when Sidney runs his greatest risk--give me fair warning of it, that his friends may be near him. If there be a risk of death, he must not die without me there. You promise?"

"I promise, Miss Gray."

Mattie had no further request to urge, and he, after avoiding Mr. Gray by a strategic movement, and a hurried "Good day, sir--hope you're well!" entered the parlour with the words--

"Ready, Sid?"

Sidney Hinchford took his friend's arm, Maurice signed to the footman at the door to carry Sidney's portmanteau, and then the two cousins entered the shop--both looking strangely alike, arm-in-arm, and shoulder to shoulder thus.

"One moment, Maurice."

Sidney thought of Mattie at the last; in his own anxiety for self, he did not forget her, as she had feared he would.

"Where's Mattie?"

"Here, Sidney."

He drew her aside--away out of hearing, where neither Mr. Gray nor his cousin could listen to his grateful words.

"Mattie, dear," he said, "I know that I shall have your prayers for my success--you, who have fought my battles, and been always ready at my side. Pray for our bright future together; it will come now. Whatever happens you and I together in life, my girl, unless, with that month's reflection that I granted you, comes the want of trust in my sincerity!"

"Never that, Sidney."

"Good-bye."

He stooped and kissed her, and Mattie shrank not away from him, though it was the first time in his life that his lips had touched hers. He was going away from that house for ever, perhaps; they might never know each other again; and she loved him too dearly, and felt too happy in those fleeting moments, to feel abashed at this evidence of his affection.

So they parted, and Ann Packet, who had heard the story, rushed from the side door to fling a shoe for luck, after the receding carriage. A maniacal act, that the footman--who had _not_ heard the story--was unable to account for, save as a personal insult to himself.

"He had gone out of his spear to a place called Peckham," he said afterwards in the servants' hall, "and had had old boots flung at him by the lower horders!"

CHAPTER II.

MATTIE IS TAKEN INTO CONFIDENCE.

Sidney's departure made a difference in the house; it was scarcely home without him now. Mattie and Mr. Gray took their usual places after the day's business was over, and looked somewhat blankly at each other. The father had become attached to Sidney, as well as the daughter; he was nervous as to the result of the mysterious system under which his son, by adoption, had placed himself.

He had no faith in cures effected by men who were not of the true faith--whatever that might mean in Mr. Gray's opinion--he would have liked to see this Dr. Bario himself, and sound him as to his religious convictions. If he were a Roman Catholic, Sidney's chance of success was very small, he thought.

Mattie did not take this narrow view of things; but she was anxious and dispirited. Anxious for Sidney and the result--dispirited at a something else which she could scarcely define. Sidney's last words were ringing in her ears, but there was no comfort in them now; they were meant to encourage, but they only perplexed--all was mystery beyond. She prayed that Sidney would be well and strong again, but she felt that her happiness--her best days--would lie further off when the light came back to him. It might be fancy; the best days might be advancing to her as well as to Sidney Hinchford, but the instinctive feeling of a great change weighed upon her none the less heavily.

She did not feel in suspense about a serious result to Sidney; Sidney would get better, she thought, and the shadow of a darker life for him did not fall heavily athwart her musings.

When those whom we love are away, we are full of wonder concerning them; speculations on their acts in the distance, bridge over the dreary s.p.a.ce between us and them. "I wonder what they are doing now!" and the suggestions that follow this, wile away a great share of the time that would seem dull and objectless without them. You who are loved and are away from us, do justice to our thoughts of you, and keep worthy of the fancy pictures wherein ye are so vividly portrayed!