Weeks and months passed on, and though Leila had no fixed complaint, her health was not what it had been before, and the prospect of her recovering her sight seemed gradually to be becoming more uncertain. It was well for her, dear child, that she could not see the mournful looks with which her papa often now regarded her, as she, with increased anxiety to acquire habits of independence, performed her daily duties. It was evident that Leila was preparing her mind to meet, not only with resignation, but with cheerfulness, what but a few short months before would have weighed her to the ground. How deeply had she felt poor Susan’s state; how often had she looked at the sightless eyes of the blind girl, and said to herself, “How can she bear it? O any trial but this!” And this trial was now hers; it came upon her in a moment. Suddenly was the whole face of nature shut out from her sight; yet, after the first natural anguish was over, there came also to her young heart that faith, that reliance, which shed peace and light on her darkest moments. Her little scholars now came to her as usual; they daily read the Bible to her, and also other books suited to their age, and in this occupation she took much interest. Susan also came frequently, and either Selina or Matilda read to her while Leila listened. “I wish Susan were nearer us,” she said one morning to Selina, as Susan left the room; “how kind in you both to take such pains with her; she says it is her happiest time when she is with us; and do you know what I have been wishing for a long time, and making a little plan in my own mind about? I have been wishing that we could find a house in our village for Susan’s mother, and then poor Susan would come oftener, for she would not have so far to walk; and yesterday I spoke to papa about it; he said he did not quite see how it could be managed, but that he would turn it in his mind. When papa says he will turn it in his mind, he is sure to turn and twist it into the right thing.” “But how,” Matilda inquired, “can Uncle Howard twist Susan’s mother and all her five brothers and sisters into a house in the village, when there is not one empty, and all the people quite healthy, not the least likely to die? He must twist them out first, and that would not be civil.” “I don’t know, Matilda, but I am sure my papa will not do any thing unkind, and yet I think he will manage it; I knew by the sound of his voice that he thought it possible, and I have been thinking a great deal of all I could do for Susan to make her happier; for she has not all my comforts and pleasures, and she has not a Selina and a Matilda to be eyes to her, and to make every thing cheerful to her, and even light; for when I am with you, I scarcely feel that I am blind at all.” Selina sighed deeply, but did not answer.