that his eyes look quieter than other people's,
there seems no difference in them now. Who
was that famous character you told us about,
Miss Sturch, who was blind, and didn't show
it any more than Leonard Frankland?"

"Milton, my love. I begged you to
remember that he was the most famous of
British epic poets," answered Miss Sturch
with suavity. " He poetically describes his
blindness as being caused by 'so thick a drop
serene.' You shall read about it, Louisa.
After we have had a little French, we will
have a little Milton, this morning. Hush,
love, your papa is speaking."

"Poor young Frankland! " said, the vicar,
tenderly. " That good, tender, noble creature
I married him to this morning, seems sent as
a consolation to him in his affliction. If any
human being can make him happy for the
rest of his life, Rosamond Treverton is the
girl to do it."

"She has made a sacrifice," said Mr. Phippen;
"but I like her for that, having made a
sacrifice myself in remaining single. It seems
indispensible, indeed, on the score of
humanity that I should do so. How could I
conscientiously inflict such a digestion as
mine on a member of the fairer portion of
creation? No: I am a Sacrifice in my own
proper person, and I have a fellow-feeling for
others who are like me. Did she cry much,
Chennery, when you were marrying her?"

'' Cry ! " exclaimed the vicar, contemptuously.
"Rosamond Treverton is not one of
the puling, sentimental sort, I can tell you.
A fine, buxom, warm-hearted, quick-
tempered girl, who looks what she means when
she tells a man she is going to marry him.
And, mind you, she has been tried. If she
hadn't loved him with all her heart and soul,
she might have been free months ago to
marry anybody she pleased. They were
engaged long before this cruel affliction befel
young Frankland—the fathers, on both sides,
having lived as near neighbours in these
parts for years. Well, when the blindness
came, Leonard, like the fine conscientious
fellow he is, at once offered to release Rosamond
from her engagement. You should
have read the letter she wrote to him, Phippen,
upon that. I don't mind confessing that
I blubbered like a baby over it, when they
showed it to me. I should have married
them at once the instant I read it, but old
Frankland was a fidgety, punctilious kind of
man, and he insisted on a six months' probation,
so that she might be certain of knowing
her own mind. He died before the term was
out, and that caused the marriage to be put
off again. But no delays could alter Rosamond
—six years, instead of six months, would
not have changed her. There she was this
morning as fond of that poor patient blind
fellow as she was the first day they were
engaged. 'You shall never know a sad
moment, Lenny, if I can help it, as long as you
live,' those were the first words she said to
him when we all came out of church. ' I
hear you, Rosamond,' says I. 'And you shall
judge me, too, doctor,' says she, quick as
lightning. 'We will come back to Long
Beckley, and you shall ask Lenny if I have
not kept my word.' With that, she gave me
a kiss that you might have heard down here
at the vicarage, bless her heart! We'll drink
her health after dinner, Miss Sturch—we'll
drink both their healths, Phippen, in a bottle
of the best wine I have in my cellar."

"In a glass of toast-and-water, so far as I
am concerned, if you will allow me," said
Mr. Phippen, mournfully. " But, my dear
Chennery, when you were talking of the
fathers of these two interesting young people,
you spoke of their living as near neighbours
here, at Long Beckley. My memory is
impaired, as I am painfully aware; but I
thought Captain Treverton was the eldest of
the two brothers, and that he always lived,
when he was on shore, at the family place in
Cornwall?"

"So he did," returned the vicar, " in his
wife's lifetime. But since her death, which
as long ago as the year 'twenty-
nine—let me see, we are now in the year
forty-four—and that makes—"

The vicar stopped for an instant to calculate,
and looked at Miss Sturch.

"Fifteen years ago, sir," said Miss Sturch,
offering the accommodation of a little simple
subtraction to the vicar, with her blandest
smile.

"Of course," continued Doctor Chennery.
" Well, since Mrs. Treverton died, fifteen
years ago, Captain Treverton has never been
near Porthgenna Tower. And, what is more,
Phippen, at the first opportunity he could
get, he sold the place—sold it, out and out,
mine, fisheries, and all—for forty thousand
pounds."

You don't say so! " exclaimed Mr. Phippen.
"Did he find the air unhealthy? I
should think the local produce, in the way of
food, must be coarse, now, in those barbarous
regions? Who bought the place?"

"Leonard Frankland's father," said the
vicar. " It is rather a long story, that sale of
Porthgenna Tower, with some curious
circumstances involved in it. Suppose we take a
turn in the garden, Phippen? I'll tell you
all about it over my morning cigar. Miss
Sturch, if you want me, I shall be on the
lawn somewhere. Girls! mind you know
your lessons. Bob! remember that I've got
a cane in the hall, and a birch-rod in my
dressing-room. Come, Phippen, rouse up out
of that armchair. You won't say, no, to a
turn in the garden?"

"My dear fellow, I will say yes—if you
will kindly lend me an umbrella, and allow
me to carry my camp-stool in my hand,"
said Mr. Phippen. " I am too weak to
encounter the sun, and I can't go far without
sitting down. The moment I feel fatigued,
Miss Sturch, I open my camp-stool, and sit