ffice had brought
nothing but good to Barbara. She gained strength rapidly after she began
to walk, and was soon able to dispense with the cane, though she could
not walk easily, nor far. She tired quickly and was forced to rest
often, but she went about the house slowly and even up and down the
stairs.

Aunt Miriam made no comment of any sort. She did not say she was glad
Barbara was well after twenty-two years of helplessness, even though she
had taken entire care of her, and must have felt greatly relieved when
the burden was lifted. She went about her work as quietly as ever, and
fulfilled all her household duties with mechanical precision.

Spicy odours were wafted through the rooms, for Eloise had ordered
enough jelly, sweet pickles, and preserves to supply a large family for
two or three years. She had also bought quilts and rag rugs for all of
her old-lady friends and taken the entire stock of candied orange peel
for the afternoon teas which she expected to give during the Winter.

Barbara was hard at work upon the dainty lingerie Eloise had planned,
and found, by a curious anomaly, that when she did not work so hard, she
was able to accomplish more. The needle flew more swiftly when her
fingers did not ache and the stitches blur indistinguishably with the
fibre of the fabric. When Roger was not there to help her, she divided
her day, by the clock, into hours of work and quarter-hours of exercise
and rest.

She had been out of the gate twice, with Roger, and had walked up and
down the road in front of the house, but, as yet, she had not gone
beyond the little garden alone.

[Sidenote: One Dark Cloud]

Upon the fair horizon of the future was one dark cloud of dread which
even Doctor Conrad's positive assurance had mitigated only for a little
time. Barbara knew her father and his stern, uncompromising
righteousness. When the bandages were taken off and he saw the faded
walls and dingy furniture, the worn rugs, and the pitiful remnant of
damask at his place at the table; when he realised that his daughter had
deceived him ever since she could talk at all, he must inevitably
despise her, even though he tried to hide it.

Dimly, Barbara began to perceive the intangible price that is attached
to the things of the spirit as well as to the material necessities of
daily life. She was forced to surrender his love for her as the
compensation for his sight, yet she was firmly resolved to keep, for
him, the love tha