Temple will tell you a story of such a woman.&rdquo; </p> <p> It was now time for Edward to be left to repose. His brother George shook him heartily by the hand, and hoped, as he had hoped twenty times before, that tomorrow or the next day Ned&rsquo;s eyes would be strong enough to look the sun right in the face. </p> <p> &ldquo;Thank you, George,&rdquo; replied Edward, smiling; &ldquo;but I am not half so impatient as at first. If my bodily eyesight were as good as yours, perhaps I could not see things so distinctly with my mind&rsquo;s eye. But now there is a light within which shows me the little Quaker artist, Ben West, and Isaac Newton with his windmill, and stubborn Sam Johnson, and stout Noll Cromwell, and shrewd Ben Franklin, and little Queen Christina, with the Swedes kneeling at her feet. It seems as if I really saw these personages face to face. So I can bear the darkness outside of me pretty well.&rdquo; </p> <p> When Edward ceased speaking, Emily put up her mouth and kissed him as her farewell for the night. </p> <p> &ldquo;Ah, I forgot!&rdquo; said Edward, with a sigh. &ldquo;I cannot see any of your faces. What would it signify to see all the famous people in the world, if I must be blind to the faces that I love?&rdquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;You must try to see us with your heart, my dear child,&rdquo; said his mother. </p> <p> Edward went to bed somewhat dispirited; but, quickly falling asleep, was visited with such a pleasant dream of the sunshine and of his dearest friends that he felt the happier for it all the next day. And we hope to find him still happy when we meet again. </p> <p> <br /><br /><br /><br /> </p> <pre xml:space="preserve"> End of Project Gutenberg&rsquo;s Biographical Stories, by Nathaniel Hawthorne