"Ah, that was a happy day!" said George; and he shook his head sorrowfully, as he led poor Susan home to her father's cottage. Each succeeding week saw Susan's blindness gradually increase; and as her sight became more and more dim, she became more than ever gentle and uncomplaining. Of all the visitations with which human nature is afflicted, none assuredly has such a tendency to calm, to purify, and to refine the heart, as blindness. The absence of all external objects to distract the attention, forces the soul to look back into itself, to subdue its passions, to control its emotions, to chasten all its feelings. It is seldom that the countenance of a blind person does not bear the stamp of a meek and resigned spirit within. Old Mr. Sandford died, and was replaced by a worthy common-place clergyman, who did the duty in a respectable common-place manner; who attended the schools, and visited the poor people, and was sorry for the blind young woman; but, not having known her previously, took no particular interest in her case. Susan and her father lamented the death of Mr. Sandford. To them the loss of the voice to which they had been accustomed was a deprivation far greater than to others, for to them a voice was everything. Susan was one day seated at her usual hour with her knitting by Nelly's side, when Mr. and Mrs. Otley paid the old woman a visit. "Ah!" said Nelly, "I warrant me, they are coming for some job of their own. It's seldom any one opens my door to keep me company, or to cheer my lonesome days: that's the way of the world,--every one for himself." Then addressing Mrs. Otley as she entered: "Well, ma'am, and what queer new-fangled piece of work do you want to set me about now?" "I have brought you a new pattern, Nelly," replied the good-humoured Mrs. Otley; "these knit boas are quite the fashion at Turnholme; and I thought if you got some done before they grow common, it would be such a good thing for you!" "And can you tell me how I am to set about making such an out-of-the-way thing as this?" said Nelly, as she held up the boa with a disdainful air. "No, I cannot tell you how to do it; but you are so clever at such matters, I thought you would know directly." "Perhaps I may find out, as there are few stitches I do not know," replied Nelly, her temper a little soothed through the medium of her vanity; "but when I have made them, I do not see who there is to buy them, now Mrs. Mowbray and her family are gone." "Oh! in the first place, I will take one; and then Miss Mincing will be glad to take any number, if you let her have them a trifle under the usual price." Nelly nodded, with a half-pleased, half-cunning air, as if she had proved right, and Mrs. Otley had her own ends to answer in her apparent good-nature. "And, perhaps," continued Mrs. Otley, "the Mowbrays may be at home before next winter."