*VI* At last the bandages were taken off. I recall the sudden painful glare of the darkened room, the three doctors in hospital costumes, who were consulting on different forms of torture. Especially I remember the mole on the forehead of the chief, a gray haired, spectacled man. It was the first things my eyes, startled out of their long sleep, fixed upon. The ordeal dragged along tragically. It seemed that they were intentionally slow. But the verdict when it came was acquittal. I was lucky. With care I might regain almost normal vision. But for months I must not try to read. Always, all my life, I must stop at the first hint of fatigue. So, having adjusted some smoked glasses, they sent me back to my room, to pack and go out into a new life. As I entered the corridor, I saw two nurses at the other end. My heart stopped with a jump and I was suddenly dizzy. Somehow I had not thought of Ann in terms of sight. She had come to me out of the darkness, revealed herself as a sound and a touch. I had no idea how she would look. They both came towards me. I could see very little through my dark glasses. I could not guess which was which. "So. They’ve taken off the bandages? I’m very glad." It was Miss Wright’s strenuous voice. "I’m glad, too," Ann said. I tried to see her, but my eyes were full of tears. "I’ll show him his room," Ann said. When the door was closed on us, she threw her arms about my neck and cried as I had never seen a woman cry. "Oh! beloved," she sobbed. "I’m so glad. I was afraid—afraid you were going to be blind." She had always been so cheerful, so professional, about my case—of course it would turn out all right—that I had not seen it from her point of view. It was a revelation to me that her bravery had been a sham. "Oh. I was afraid—afraid!" I tried to comfort her but all the pent-up worry and fear of weeks had broken out. And I had not realized that her love had made my risk a personal tragedy for her. When she had quieted a little, I wanted her to stand away so that I might look at her. But no—she said—she did not want me to see her first when her eyes were swollen with tears. She clung to me tightly and would not show me her face. There was a knock at the door. I had not lived long enough to realize the seriousness of a woman’s wet eyes, and, without thought of this, I said, "Come in." It was Benson. "Miss Wright tells me—" He hesitated. He was looking at Ann. I turned too. She was making a brave effort to appear unconcerned, but her eyes were red past all hiding. "Yes," she said, in her professional tone. "The news is very good. Better than we hoped."