It was too late in the day, when they returned from the church, to be favorable for an examination at that time; and it was finally settled that the gentlemen should proceed at once to Primrose Bank, conclude their investigations there, and return to Hurstdene the next morning; when Mr. Paine and the vicar could mutually make known their decisions concerning the curacy, and M. de la Récaille might carry out his wishes with regard to Mr. Duncan’s eyesight. It was an evening of great trial to Hilary; hope for her father had entered her heart, and she could not bid its gentle whispers be still: but she dared not impart her fancies, or allow him to see how much she dwelt on the idea. He was as calm as ever; the notion of approaching darkness had become familiar to him, and he was so firmly convinced of the incurable nature of his complaint, that he would hardly have been disturbed had all the oculists in the kingdom promised him sight. She would not distress him with her agitation; her feelings must be smothered under an assumed appearance of calmness, but she could not approach the topic; and while her sisters were chattering gayly about the gentlemen whom they had seen that day, and describing again and again the personal appearance of all three strangers, never agreeing in details, nor feeling sure whether any pair of eyes were blue, black, or brown, Hilary smiled, and answered, and gave her opinion with almost her ordinary cheerfulness and readiness, while her heart was palpitating with excitement, and her mind at every leisure moment putting up secret petitions for patience, strength, and submission, whatever the result might be. The morrow came, and the visitors arrived punctually. After a brief interview between the clergymen in Mr. Duncan’s study, he repaired to the drawing-room, and seating himself according to the oculist’s directions, quietly submitted to his examination. His daughter stood beside him, her hand clasping his, her breath almost stopped from agitation, her very lips white with intense excitement, and yet her face calm, rigid, and pale as marble. Oh! the suspense of that moment: her eyes eagerly bent on the oculist’s countenance, endeavored to read his decision in his face, before his lips pronounced it; and, unconscious of all beside, her whole mind and understanding was centred on that one object. Charles was close to her, his eyes intently gazing on her, but she knew it not: had he been a hundred miles off she could hardly have been more indifferent about him. It was over at last; that prolonged agony was ended; M. de la Récaille shook his head, sighed, and announced there was no hope, no human probability of any cure; perfect rest might delay the result, agitation might expedite the evil; but come it must; total blindness, sooner or later, was inevitably impending. Mr. Duncan heard it unmoved; he only drew Hilary’s hand closer to his heart, and said, in a cheerful voice,