ole tone of these wise and thoughtful remarks shows that Bessie
had never lost touch with her work. Her interest is as fresh, her
expectation as vigorous as ever. She throws out a new suggestion--that
of the employment of the blind in special branches of a trade--which may
even yet bear fruit. She pleads for "the elevation of the whole
condition of the blind," in contradistinction to the administration of
charitable doles to degrade them. She had a wide experience of both
systems, and could now speak with authority. The letter indeed marks a
recrudescence, and has a ring of hope about it. It is not the utterance
of one who speaks on the other side of a closed door. You feel that the
door is open and she may enter and resume work. There was, in fact,
throughout 1884 an indefinable improvement and amelioration in her
condition which led her, not perhaps to hope, but to entertain a thought
of the possibility of such a measure of recovery as might once more
enable her to take an active share in the work of the Institution. It
is not likely that this expectation was entertained either by her
doctors or nurses; but Bessie had a distinct feeling that a change, an
improvement, was before her. "Would it not be wonderful," she said to
the present writer in the early summer of 1884, "if I should recover?"
And in reply to a question suggested by this remark, she added, "I feel
as if there would be a change."

CHAPTER XXII

TWILIGHT

"The noble mansion is most distinguished by the beautiful images it
retains of beings passed away; and so is the noble mind."
WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.

Fifteen years of suffering had left Bessie Gilbert unchanged as to the
aims and work of her life. Long lonely hours of thought had shown her
the need that the blind have of help and sympathy, the impossibility of
independence and self-supporting work for them unless through the active
charity of individuals and the co-operation of the State.

And it was the "General Welfare of the Blind" that engrossed her, and
not merely their trades. She knew, no one better, how much need they
have of resources from within, the pleasures of memory, the courage
given by hope and aspiration. Her long years of illness enlarged her
ideas of what could be done and ought to be done for them. She
contrasted her own condition with that of the poor and untaught, and
forgave them all their faults when she remem