"Old friend, you are vexed at my long silence; you have been harassing yourself--perhaps Mattie and you together--about my anxiety to get away from here, after God has pleased to give me back my sight. And I have been struggling and scheming to get back, and escape the kindness of my relations! Why, Mr. Gray, this will not do--this is not like you to mistrust true friends, and think uncharitably of them after their backs are turned! You should have known me better, and have had more faith in me by this time." "My dear Sidney," exclaimed Mr. Gray, "I have never had an uncharitable thought towards you. I knew that you would always think well of us--that--that you were not likely to forget us. Until yesterday, I have been building upon your return here, and thinking how happy we should all be together." "Until yesterday--what happened yesterday?" "Mattie will tell you, Sidney--I cannot--I must not." "Very well, we will wait," said Sidney, gravely; "there is nothing she can tell me which I cannot explain away." "Are you sure?" was the father's eager question. "Sure," he answered; but there was something in the tone which wavered, and Mr. Gray fancied that he detected it. He said no more, however; he was glad to see Sidney disinclined to elicit further information. Sidney paced the shop once or twice, looked round it, and then went into the parlour, without waiting for Mr. Gray's invitation, and looked carefully and curiously round the room also. Mr. Gray followed him. "I see the home for the first time, if you remember," said Sidney; "here, in the darkness, a fair life was spent, thanks to you and _her_. Here you both first taught me that there was comfort even in affliction; and here stood by my side, and fought my battle, two dear friends. What has altered them?" "Nothing has altered their love and esteem for you, Sidney," said Mr. Gray; "whatever happens, you must believe that." "And what has altered my love and esteem for them?" was the quick rejoinder. "Nothing, I hope--I believe." "Then let us settle down into our old positions here. I have come in search of peace and rest; of the old comforts which my uncle's grandeur could not give me, and which by contrast only rendered me more restless. I find them here, or nowhere. I take my stand here and expect them, or the disappointment will be a bitter one. This is home!"