Tempted by the beauty of the sunset, the 'squire's family one evening extended their walk to the village, and, as they frequently did, paid a visit to Master Foster and his dame. Sarah's face lighted up with a momentary expression of joy as they trooped in, filling the humble dwelling; and the old man smiled upon them the patient placid smile of blindness. There was the 'squire's lady, the gentle and kind Mrs. Mowbray; and her blooming daughter, the young Alice, in the full flush of maiden loveliness; and the tall, slender, merry Fanny, just verging on womanhood; and two stout schoolboys; and the rosy little Emma, who had quickly gained possession of the tortoiseshell cat, and was trying high its powers of endurance by her childish mode of fondling it. Besides this, the usual party, there was also a dark and handsome youth, who appeared to be all attention to Mrs. Mowbray; while the young Alice's cheeks were more brilliant even than usual, her smile more animated, and her eyes more down-cast. Old Sarah Foster soon perceived that the village report, which said the 'squire's eldest daughter was likely to be early settled, was better founded than is usually the case with such reports. "Where is Susan this evening?" inquired Mrs. Mowbray. "'Tis Freshfield fair to-day, madam," answered the dame, "and all the young people hereabouts are gone to see the humours of it: and so her father and I thought poor Susan should take a little amusement for once. She has but a dull life with us, so poorly as I am, and so helpless as my good man is!" "I think you look rather better this evening, Dame Foster," said Alice, who was in that happy frame of mind when it is painful to be obliged to believe others less fortunate than one's-self, and when one had far rather be called upon to sympathise in their joys than in their sorrows. "Thank you, Miss Alice," replied the old woman, while a sudden pain caused the smile, with which she tried to receive Alice's kind words, to die away on her lips, and her brows involuntarily to become more contracted.--"Thank you, my dear young lady, I am much as usual; but I do not mind my pains as long as I am able to do for my poor Nicholas. I know his ways so well. Susan, herself, could not guess all his thoughts as I can. Blindness is a heavy affliction, ladies. He wants some one who can speak comfort to him at times, when he gets thinking his sad thoughts; some one who can talk of by-gone days, when we had every thing to make us happy; and one who can remind him of that better place where we shall be happier than even the happiest are in this world. Morning and night I pray to be spared as long as my poor Nicholas lives, however hard my pains may be to bear; and morning and night I pray that, when he is gone, I may never see another sun rise."