sight."

"Then you will come? I will not communicate with Mrs Mostyn, for fear
of raising false hopes. If I succeed she will forgive your sudden
leaving. She is a good mistress, my lad. Pity you did not speak out
the truth that day."

John Grange flushed up.

"Indeed it was the truth, sir," he cried angrily.

"There, there! No excitement. You will have to lead now a calm,
unemotional life if I am to do you good. Good-evening. I shall expect
to see you to-morrow morning, then, before I leave for town. But once
more, keep your own counsel, and hope for nothing; then all that comes
will be so much gain."

He drew up the rein, touched his horse's side, and went off at a canter,
leaving Grange standing in the cottage garden, one moment with his mind
illumined by hope, the next black with despair.

"No," he cried softly; "it is too late. He can do nothing. Only that
long, dark journey before me to the end. Tell no one! Lead no one to
expect that I may be cured! No, not a word to any. Better away from
here to be forgotten, for everything about me grows too hard to bear."

That night he stole away in the darkness, to pause on the opposite side
of the road, to whisper to the winds good-bye, and feel for a few brief
minutes that he was near Mary before he said "Good-bye--for ever!" To
be dead to all he knew unless he could return to them as he had been of
old.

This was John Grange's story--condensed--as he told it to the group at
the cottage. Then in a low, deep tone, full of emotion--

"If I was to end my days sightless, Mary, I knew I could not come to you
again; but Heaven has willed it otherwise. It has been a long, long
waiting, hopeless till within the last month, and it was only within the
past few days that the doctor told me that all was safe, and I might be
at rest."

"But you might have written, John, if only once," said Mrs Ellis, with
a sob in her throat.

"Yes," he said, "I might, but I believe what I did was right, Mrs
Ellis; forgive me, all of you, if I was wrong."

What followed? Mrs Mostyn was eager to see John Grange back in his old
position, but he gravely shook his head.

"No," he said, "Mary, I am not going to trample on a man who is down.
Let Dan Barnett keep the place; the doctor offers me one that will make
us a happy home; and it will be, will it not?"

Mary glanced at her mother before replying, and James Ellis clasped the
young man's hand, while Mrs Ellis rushed o