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 keen eyes; yet in the rapid glance she realized anew that the baby was very like him. The tender thoughts and hopes which had been her sole consolation during the long months of his absence had fulfilled themselves in her infant daughter.

"Let me look at you, Ivo," she entreated, gently turning up his reluctant chin. Then she saw, as she gazed upon him, gaining courage from his undaunted calm, many things she had never noted in his face before; first, great weariness, then a terrible pallor, then—ah! surely she was dreaming—she feared to resolve her doubt.

"You have been ill!" she cried.

"Yes. It was that which kept me from you."

"There is something the matter with your eyes!"

His answer sounded more like a sob than a sigh.

"You are blind?" questioned Nasha, faltering.

"Totally," said Ivo, with a gesture unutterable of weariness.

"Can you not see the child?"

"No," he responded, drawing a deep breath that expressed a sort of heart-broken resignation.

"Nor—me?"

"No, my beloved; but I can remember your face. I shall never forget."

Nasha was silent; the tumult in her heart was too great for speech. She clasped him close, and caressed his tired head, kissing the eyes that were so pathetically unaware of all her outward deficiencies. Blind? Could it indeed be true? Would he nevermore behold the light? What was the impious prayer which had been upon her lips when darkness overtook her, and she was stricken down at the foot of her bridal altar? "Come what may, let me keep his love! Let him never know—" But she had not meant this! No, no; this was not an answer to her prayer. She writhed under the thought, though she repelled it so quickly. She had only prayed to retain his love; she had not asked God to hide her from him; and, with her, his child, and all the beautiful earth, the flowers, the trees, the sunshine he had so rejoiced in! No, no; this was too cruel! Gradually, while her arms were twined about him, the full extent of his calamity became clear to her mind, and with the realization a faintness overcame her. She released her husband, and lay back among the pillows, with difficulty repressing a groan of mingled terror and remorse. He sat patiently upon the bed, listening keenly to her movements, and fondling the child, which his hands had discovered.

After a while Nasha spoke:—

"How was it?"

"There was a fire at the hotel. Volmer had come into my room. I tried to save him."

"You lost your sight trying to save Volmer's life?"

"My darling, he was your brother."

"He was your worst enemy—and mine!"

"Hush, Nasha! He is dead!"

"And he deserved to die! But you—you—oh! to have this death in life close down upon you! It is my sin, my sin that has brought it about! But you shall know the truth, and then—"

"Nasha, dear love, be calm! You are overwrought. Let me call Getha."

"No, no! Stay here. I must tell you I am nothing that you believe me to be, Ivo. You have thought me beautiful. I am hideous! Now—go!"

"Nasha, Nasha, I entreat you! It is not you who speak. You are beside yourself!"

"Not now—I have been—and you, too,