d her cheeks wet with
streaming tears. She rose from her seat, took the staff from the old
man's hands, and threw herself sobbing aloud upon his bosom.

He folded his aged arms around her and drew her to his heart, while he
bent his head, and his white hair, so silvery, floated forward and
mingled with the raven blackness of hers. Thus they sat, a touching
picture of youth and hoary age, of life's spring-time and the calm
tranquillity of its withered autumn.

"Oh, grandpapa!" exclaimed Blanche at last, lifting up her face and
looking tearfully into those dim eyes as though they could see all that
she wished them. "Never, never talk any more about dying and leaving me
here alone, unless you wish to break poor Blanche's heart. You are all
that God has left me on this earth to love, and if He takes you, I want
to go too. And you said you were a trouble! Don't ever, ever say that
again, dear grandfather, if you love me dearly, as I know you do."

"But I wish to prepare you, darling, for the change that must surely
come."

"Don't say so. You never could prepare me for such a dreadful thing, and
please don't try to."

The old man drew a long shivering sigh, and leaned back in his chair.
Blanche sat up, smoothed his thin locks, kissed his brow, and soothed
him once more into a placid calm. She slid from his arms, then placed
the staff in his hands, and he bent forward on it as if already
forgetful of the scene just passed.

Guly and Wilkins were deeply impressed by this simple occurrence, and
the former had looked on, with difficulty keeping the answering drops
from his large blue eyes. There had been something so natural in it all,
yet so affecting and heart-touching. There had been no attempt to check
the heart's first impulse, no struggle of affected prudery, but the free
gushing forth of her warm affection, forgetful of everything save the
strong love for her blind grandfather.

"Now, Guly," said Blanche, playfully, breaking the sad pause which had
followed the recent excitement, "I am anxious to finish this piece of
work this evening, and you must thread my needle for me. That will help
me."

Guly expressed his willingness to obey, and drew his chair closer to the
little table for the purpose, as he said, of receiving instructions.
Blanche gave them, and he sat watching her taper fingers, and waiting
impatiently to see the thread used up that he might proffer another.

The old man talked pleasantly, Guly loved