‘Why, what a clumsy Dot you are, this afternoon!’ said John. ‘I could have done it better myself, I verily believe!’ With these good-natured words, he strode away, and presently was heard, in company with Boxer, and the old horse, and the cart, making lively music down the road. What time the dreamy Caleb still stood, watching his blind daughter, with the same expression on his face. ‘Bertha!’ said Caleb, softly. ‘What has happened? How changed you are, my darling, in a few hours—since this morning. _You_ silent and dull all day! What is it? Tell me!’ ‘Oh father, father!’ cried the Blind Girl, bursting into tears. ‘Oh my hard, hard fate!’ Caleb drew his hand across his eyes before he answered her. ‘But think how cheerful and how happy you have been, Bertha! How good, and how much loved, by many people.’ ‘That strikes me to the heart, dear father! Always so mindful of me! Always so kind to me!’ Caleb was very much perplexed to understand her. ‘To be—to be blind, Bertha, my poor dear,’ he faltered, ‘is a great affliction; but—’ ‘I have never felt it!’ cried the Blind Girl. ‘I have never felt it, in its fulness. Never! I have sometimes wished that I could see you, or could see him—only once, dear father, only for one little minute—that I might know what it is I treasure up,’ she laid her hands upon her breast, ‘and hold here! That I might be sure and have it right! And sometimes (but then I was a child) I have wept in my prayers at night, to think that when your images ascended from my heart to Heaven, they might not be the true resemblance of yourselves. But I have never had these feelings long. They have passed away and left me tranquil and contented.’ ‘And they will again,’ said Caleb. ‘But, father! Oh my good, gentle father, bear with me, if I am wicked!’ said the Blind Girl. ‘This is not the sorrow that so weighs me down!’ Her father could not choose but let his moist eyes overflow; she was so earnest and pathetic, but he did not understand her, yet. ‘Bring her to me,’ said Bertha. ‘I cannot hold it closed and shut within myself. Bring her to me, father!’ She knew he hesitated, and said, ‘May. Bring May!’ May heard the mention of her name, and coming quietly towards her, touched her on the arm. The Blind Girl turned immediately, and held her by both hands. ‘Look into my face, Dear heart, Sweet heart!’ said Bertha. ‘Read it with your beautiful eyes, and tell me if the truth is written on it.’ ‘Dear Bertha, Yes!’ The Blind Girl still, upturning the blank sightless face, down which the tears were coursing fast, addressed her in these words: