"Percy's a fool!" she said, with some show of indignation, which I hailed, for more reasons than one. "But you enjoyed the sermon this morning, did you not?" "I don't know. I thought it very poetical and very pretty; but whether it was true--how could I tell? I didn't care. The baby he spoke about was nothing to me. I didn't love him, or want to hear about him. Don't you think me a brute, uncle?" "No, I don't. I think you are ill. And I think we shall find something that will do you good; but I can't tell yet what. You will dine with us, won't you?" "Oh! yes, if you and papa wish it." "Of course we do. He is just gone to ask Mr. and Mrs. Bloomfield to dine with us." "Oh!" "You don't mind, do you?" "Oh! no. They are nice people. I like them both." "Well, I will leave you, my child. Sleep if you can. I will go and walk in the garden, and think what can be done for my little girl." "Thank you, uncle. But you can't do me any good. What if this should be the true way of things? It is better to know it, if it is." "Disease couldn't make a sun in the heavens. But it could make a man blind, that he could not see it." "I don't understand you." "Never mind. It's of no consequence whether you do or not. When you see light again, you will believe in it. For light compels faith." "I believe in you, uncle; I do." "Thank you, my dear. Good-bye." I went round by the stables, and there found the colonel, talking to his groom. He had returned already from his call, and the Bloomfields were coming. I met Percy next, sauntering about, with a huge cigar in his mouth. "The Bloomfields are coming to dinner, Mr. Percy," I said. "Who are they?" "The schoolmaster and his wife." "Just like that precious old uncle of mine! Why the deuce did he ask _me_ this Christmas? I tell you what, Mr. Smith--I can't stand it. There's nothing, not even cards, to amuse a fellow. And when my mother comes, it will be ten times worse. I'll cut and run for it." "Oh! no, you won't," I said. But I heartily wished he would. I confess the insincerity, and am sorry for it. "But what the devil does my mother want, coming here?" "I haven't the pleasure of knowing your mother, so I cannot tell what the devil she can want, coming here." "Humph!" He walked away. Chapter III. The Christmas dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Bloomfield arrived; the former a benevolent, grey-haired man, with a large nose and small mouth, yet with nothing of the foolish look which often accompanies such a malconformation; and the latter a nice-looking little body, middle-aged, rather more; with half-grey curls, and a cap with black ribbons. Indeed, they were both in mourning. Mr. Bloomfield bore himself with a kind of unworldly grace, and Mrs. Bloomfield with a kind of sweet primness. The schoolmaster was inclined to be talkative; nor was his wife behind him; and that was just what we wanted.