"It is not only useless to repine," was his reply, "it is foolish, and morally weak. For, admitting that there is such a principle as divine justice, we must also admit a divine interposition even in the small matters of human life. I should not speak so freely if my uncle had not told me of his early association with you, and of the friendly and affectionate greeting he received from you after a separation of nearly forty years. I look upon you already as a friend." "I am glad to hear you say so; we will seal the compact." I pressed his hand once more, and he responded as I would have wished him to respond. "I knew you would like each other," said Bob. "When I closed my eyes just now," resumed Ronald Elsdale, "it was because of the impression I had that there was some other living creature in the room beside ourselves." Bob and I exchanged glances, and Bob said: "We three are the only living creatures within these four walls of mine." "Of course, of course. Mr. Emery said so, and it is not likely he would deceive me. Blind people, Mr. Emery, are generally very suspicious; it follows naturally upon their affliction. Seeing nothing, they doubt much, and are ever in fear that they are being imposed upon and deceived. I am happy to say this is not the case with me; where I have not a fixed opinion I generally believe what is told me." A pang of self-reproach shot through me as he spoke. Here was I, in my very first interview with this frank and ingenuous young gentleman, deliberately deceiving him. Bob, also, did not seem quite at his ease. He was playing with his lower lip, always an indication in him of mental disturbance. "You said something just now," I observed, with a wish to change the subject, "about compensations for misfortune, and I infer that you have compensations for yours. But it must cause you regret?" "It does, but I do not fret, I do not take it to heart; I accept the inevitable. The proper use of the higher intelligence with which we are gifted is to reason calmly upon all human and worldly matters which touch us nearly. Those who can thus reason have cause for gratitude; and I have cause. Compensations? Yes, I have them. Difficult to describe, perhaps, because they are spiritual; inspired by faith or self-delusion, which stern materialists declare are one and the same thing." "Your uncle and I," I said, "were having a discussion upon delusions when you entered." "In continuation"--he turned to Bob; he seemed to know always where the person he was addressing was standing or sitting--"in continuation of the discussion we were having this afternoon?" "Yes," said Bob, "and we do not quite agree." "My uncle is a skeptic," said Ronald, "he does not believe in miracles." "You do?" I inquired.