"The marriage that takes place to-day," said Caleb, "is with a stern, sordid, grinding man. A hard master to you and me, my dear, for many years. Ugly in his looks and in his nature. Cold and callous always. Unlike what I have painted him to you in everything, my child. In everything." "Oh, why," cried the blind girl, tortured, as it seemed, almost beyond endurance, "why did you ever do this? Why did you ever fill my heart so full, and then come in, like death, and tear away the objects of my love? Oh, heaven, how blind I am! How helpless and alone!" Her afflicted father hung his head, and offered no reply but in his grief. "Tell me what my home is. What it truly is." "It is a poor place, Bertha; very poor and bare indeed. The house will scarcely keep out wind and rain another winter. It is as roughly shielded from the weather, Bertha, as your poor father in his sackcloth coat." "Those presents that I took such care of, that came almost at my wish, and were so dearly welcome to me," she said, trembling; "where did they come from?" Caleb did not answer. She knew already, and was silent. "I see, I understand," said Bertha, "and now I am looking at you, at my kind, loving compassionate father, tell me what is he like?" "An old man, my child; thin, bent, gray-haired, worn-out with hard work and sorrow; a weak, foolish, deceitful old man." The blind girl threw herself on her knees before him, and took his gray head in her arms. "It is my sight, it is my sight restored," she cried. "I have been blind, but now I see; I have never till now truly seen my father. Does he think that there is a gay, handsome father in this earth that I could love so dearly, cherish so devotedly, as this worn and gray-headed old man? Father there is not a gray hair on your head that shall be forgotten in my prayers and thanks to heaven." "My Bertha!" sobbed Caleb, "and the brisk smart father in the blue coat--he's gone, my child." "Dearest father, no, he's not gone, nothing is gone, everything I loved and believed in is here in this worn, old father of mine, and more--oh, so much more, too! I have been happy and contented, but I shall be happier and more contented still, now that I know what you are. I am _not_ blind, father, any longer." VI. LITTLE NELL.