Louis longed to ask her if she felt the vibration then, but he dared not do it. He, in general so reckless in words, experienced a restraining influence he had never felt before. She seemed so set apart, so holy, it would be sacrilegious to address her with levity. He felt a sudden desire to be an oculist, that he might devote himself to the task of restoring to her the blessing of sight. Then he thought how delightful it would be to lead such a sweet creature through the world, to be eyes to her darkness, strength to her helplessness--the sun of her clouded universe. Louis had a natural chivalry about him that invested weakness, not only with a peculiar charm, but with a sacred right to his protection. With the quick, bounding impulses of eighteen, his spirit sprang forward to meet every new attraction. Here was one so novel, so pure, that his soul seemed purified from the soil of temptation, while he involuntarily surrendered himself to it, as Miss Thusa's thread grew white under the bleaching rays of a vernal sun. Miss Thusa! yes, Miss Thusa came to welcome home her young protege, unchanged even in dress. It is probable she had had several new garments since she related to Helen the history of the worm-eaten traveler, but they were all of the same gray color, relieved by the black silk neckerchief and white tamboured muslin cap--and under the cap there was the same opaque fold of white paper, carefully placed on the top of the head. Alice had a great curiosity to _see_ Miss Thusa, as she expressed it, and hear some of her wild legends. When she traced the lineaments, of her majestic profile, and her finger suddenly rose on the lofty beak of her nose, she laughed outright. Alice did not often laugh aloud, but when she did, her laugh was the most joyous, ringing, childish burst of silvery music that ever gushed from the fountain of youth. It was impossible not to echo it. Helen feared that Miss Thusa would be offended, especially as Louis joined merrily in the chorus--and she looked at Alice as if her glance had power to check her. But she did not know all the windings of Miss Thusa's heart. Any one like Alice, marked by the Almighty, by some peculiar misfortune, was an object not only of tenderness, but of reverence in her eyes. The blasted tree, the blighted flower, the smitten lamb--all touched by the finger of God, were sacred things--and so were blindness and deafness--and any personal calamity. It was strange, but it was only in the shadows of existence she felt the presence of the Deity. "Never mind her laughing," said she, in answer to the apprehensive glance of Helen, "it don't hurt me. It does me good to hear her. It sounds like a singing bird in a cage; and, poor thing, she's shut in a dark cage for life." "No, not for life, Miss Thusa," exclaimed Louis; "I intend to study optics till I have mastered the whole length and breadth of the science, on purpose to unseal those eyes of blue."