"Yes, she's on the road," said Mercy. Her face showed that pathetic tension of the other senses which is peculiar to the blind. A moment later Greta stepped into the cottage. The telegram which Brother Peter gave her at the church was still in her hand. "Good-morning, Matthew; good-morning, Gubblum; I have news for you, Mercy. The doctors are coming to-day." Mercy's face fell perceptibly. The old man's head drooped lower. "There, don't be afraid," said Greta, touching her hand caressingly. "It will soon be over. The doctors didn't hurt you before, did they?" "No; but this time it will be the operation," said Mercy. There was a tremor in her voice. Greta had lifted the child from the sconce. The little fellow cooed close to her ear, and babbled his inarticulate nothings. "Only think, when it's all over you will be able to see your darling Ralphie for the first time!" Mercy's sightless face brightened. "Oh, yes," she said, "and watch him play, and see him spin his tops and chase the butterflies. Oh, that will be very good!" "Dusta say to-day, Mistress Ritson?" asked Matthew, the big drops standing in his eyes. "Yes, Matthew; I will stay to see it over, and mind baby, and help a little." Mercy took the little one from Greta's arms and cried over it, and laughed over it, and then cried and laughed again. "Mamma and Ralphie shall play together in the garden, darling, and Ralphie shall see the horses--and the flowers--and the birdies--and mamma--yes, mamma shall see Ralphie. Oh, Mrs. Ritson, how selfish I am!--how can I ever repay you?" The tears were trickling down Greta's cheeks. "It is I who am selfish, Mercy," she said, and kissed the sightless orbs. "Your dear eyes shall give me back my poor husband." CHAPTER III. Two hours later the doctors arrived. They had called at the vicarage in driving up the valley, and Parson Christian was with them. They looked at Mercy's eyes, and were satisfied that the time was ripe for the operation. At the sound of their voices, Mercy trembled and turned livid. By a maternal instinct she picked up the child, who was toddling about the floor, and clasped it to her bosom. The little one opened wide his blue eyes at sight of the strangers, and the prattling tongue became quiet. "Take her to her room, and let her lie on the bed," said one of the doctors to Greta. A sudden terror seized the young mother. "No, no, no!" she said, in an indescribable accent, and the child cried a little from the pressure to her breast. "Come, Mercy, dear, be brave for your darling's sake," said Greta. "Listen to me," said the doctor, quietly but firmly. "You are now quite blind, and you have been in total darkness for a year and a half. We may be able to restore your sight by giving you a few minutes' pain. Will you not bear it?" Mercy sobbed, and kissed the child passionately.