s distinctly, but Myra did not
hear.

Bexley at last! with two or three cabs outside the station. Later on she
remembered them, and the colour of the horse in the one which Mr. Joshua
chose, and the driver's face, and Mr. Joshua leaning out of the window and
shouting directions. She remembered also the mist on the glass window of
the four-wheeler, and the foggy houses, detached and semi-detached,
looming behind their roadway walls and naked fences of privet; the
clapping sound of the horse, trotting with one loose shoe; Aunt Hannah's
clutch at her arm as they drew up in the early dusk before a gate with a
clump of evergreens on either side; and a glimpse of a tall red-brick
building as Mr. Joshua opened the door and alighted.

He was gone, and they sat in the cab, and waited for him a tedious while.
She did not understand. Why should they wait now, with Clem so near at
hand? But she was patient, not doubting at all of the result.

He came running back at length, and radiant. As though the issue had ever
been in doubt! The cab moved through the gateway and halted before a low
flight of steps, and everyone clambered out. The dusk had deepened, and
she blinked as she stepped into a lighted hall. A tall man met them
there; whispered, or seemed to whisper, a moment with Mr. Joshua; and
beckoned them to follow. They followed him, turning to the right down a
long corridor not so brightly lit as the hall had been. At the end he
halted for a moment and gently opened a door.

They passed through it into what, for a moment, seemed to be total
darkness. They stood, in fact, at the head of a tall platform of many
steps, semicircular in shape, looking down upon a long hall, unlit as yet
(for the blind need no lamps); and below, on the floor of the hall, ranged
at their desks in the fading light, sat row upon row of children.
The murmur of many voices rose from that shadowy throng, as Myra, shaking
off Aunt Hannah's grasp, stepped forward to the edge of the platform with
both arms extended, her hurt forgotten.

"MYRA!"

The opening of the door could scarcely have been audible amid the murmur
below. She herself had stretched out her arms, uttering no sound, not yet
discerning him among the dim murmuring shadows. What telegraphy of love
reached, and on the instant, that one child in the throng and fetched him
to his feet, crying out her name? And he was blind. From the way he ran
to her, heeding no obstacles, stumbl