know I could never be dragged so far. They would have to bury me in the
sea, and my ghost would walk the wild salt waves, and never rest in
peace."

"How different here, where our own pleasant woods are shading the
graves where my master and mistress are lying side by side. The birds
singing among the branches, and the deer grazing peacefully round the
two grave-stones that bear their names."

"When old Flor's weary eyes are closed, and there is no one alive to
tend them, they will soon be overgrown with moss and brushwood; and in
the woods where these two hid their happiness from the world, their
rest is hidden--and there, please God, shall mine be."

BLIND.

BLIND.

CHAPTER I.

At a window which opened over a little flower-garden, stood the blind
daughter of the village sexton, and sought revival from the wind as it
blew over her hot face. The delicate half-grown figure shook, and the
small cold hands lay clasped upon the windowsill.

Farther back in the room, sat a blind boy, on a stool before the old
spinet, playing restless melodies. He might be about fifteen; scarcely
a year older than the girl. No one who saw and heard him, as he lifted
up his large open eyes, or bent his head towards the window, could have
guessed him to be so afflicted--there was so much security, nay,
vehemence, in his movements.

He broke off suddenly, in the midst of a sacred song that had been
running wild beneath his fingers.

"Did you sigh, Marlene?" he asked, without turning his head.

"Not I, Clement; what should I sigh for? I only started when the wind
burst in so suddenly."

"But sigh you did! Do you think I do not hear you when I play? When you
shiver, I feel it even here."

"Yes, it is cold now."

"You don't deceive me! If you were only cold, you would not be standing
there at the window. And I know what makes you sigh and tremble; you
are afraid because the doctor is to come to-morrow and pierce our eyes
with needles. Yet he told us how quickly it is done, and that it is
only like the sting of a gnat. You used to be so brave and patient.
When I was little, and used to cry when I was hurt, were not you always
held up as a pattern to me by my mother, though you are only a girl.
And now you cannot find your courage, and do not in the least think of
all the joy that is to come after."

She shook he