to think of it, I don't know's 't would
neither. He's blind, to be sure, and can't see her scarred face. It's a
pity she ain't deef, so't she can't hear his everlastin' fiddle. She's
lucky to get any kind of a husband; she's too humbly to choose. I
declare, she reminds me of a Jack-o'-lantern, though if you look at the
back of her, or see her in meetin' with a thick veil on, she's about the
best appearin' woman in Edgewood.... I never see anybody stiffen up as
Anthony has. He had me make him three white shirts and three gingham
ones, with collars and cuffs on all of 'em. It seems as if six shirts at
one time must mean something out o' the common!"

Aunt Hitty was right; it did mean something out of the common. It meant
the growth of an all-engrossing, grateful, divinely tender passion
between two love-starved souls. On the one hand, Lyddy, who though she
had scarcely known the meaning of love in all her dreary life, yet was
as full to the brim of all sweet, womanly possibilities of loving and
giving as any pretty woman; on the other, the blind violin-maker, who
had never loved any woman but his mother, and who was in the direst need
of womanly sympathy and affection.

Anthony Croft, being ministered unto by Lyddy's kind hands, hearing
her sweet voice and her soft footstep, saw her as God sees, knowing the
best; forgiving the worst, like God, and forgetting it, still more like
God, I think.

And Lyddy? There is no pen worthy to write of Lyddy. Her joy lay deep
in her heart like a jewel at the bottom of a clear pool, so deep that
no ripple or ruffle on the surface could disturb the hidden treasure.
If God had smitten these two with one hand, he had held out the other in
tender benediction.

There had been a pitiful scene of unspeakable solemnity when Anthony
first told Lyddy that he loved her, and asked her to be his wife. He had
heard all her sad history by this time, though not from her own lips,
and his heart went out to her all the more for the heavy cross that
had been laid upon her. He had the wit and wisdom to put her affliction
quite out of the question, and allude only to her sacrifice in marrying
a blind man, hopelessly and helplessly dependent on her sweet offices
for the rest of his life, if she, in her womanly mercy, would love him
and help him bear his burdens.

When his tender words fell upon Lyddy's dazed brain she sank beside
his chair, and, clasping his knees, sobbed: "I love you, I cannot help
lo