How long I remained ignorant of things about me it is impossible to tell. I fancy it must have been a good many hours. On my first return to consciousness I heard strange confused sounds about me, low whispering, the words of which were utterly unintelligible to my unbalanced brain, and the quick rustling of silk. I remember wondering vaguely where I was. The blind quickly develop a habit of extreme caution, and with my senses dulled by the excruciating pain in my skull I lay reflecting without speaking. The throbbing in my head was frightful. When the recollections of my long walk which had ended so disastrously surged through my brain, it struck me that I must have been taken to a hospital after the accident, and that I had most probably remained there some days. Yet in hospitals there is no perfume of _peau d'Espagne_, nor do the nurses wear silken flounces. I tried to catch the words uttered by those about me, but in vain. It may have been that they were spoken in some foreign tongue, or, what is much more likely, the terrible blow I had received from the horse's hoof had utterly disarranged my sense of hearing. This single thought appalled me. If my hearing had really been injured, then I was rendered absolutely helpless. To the blind the acoustic organs become so sharpened that they can detect sounds where those in full possession of sight and hearing can distinguish nothing. It is the ear that acts for the sightless eye. Therefore the fear that even this had failed me held me appalled. I stretched forth my hand, and to my surprise felt that I was not in a hospital bed, as I had at first believed, but upon a silken couch, with my head resting upon a soft satin pillow. The covering of the couch was of rich brocade in wide stripes, while the woodwork had a smoothness which caused me to believe that it was gilt. I raised my hand to my head, and found it bandaged with a handkerchief and some apparently improvised compresses. Although I opened my eyes, all was, of course, an utter blank before me. Yet I felt instinctively, as every blind person does, the presence of some one in my immediate vicinity, and presently, after long reflection, I suddenly asked-- "Where am I? What has happened?" "You have been run over, and your head is injured," answered a strange harsh voice, hoarse and altogether curious. "But tell me. Your eyes have a curious look in them. Can't you see?" "No," I responded. "Unfortunately I am totally blind." "Blind!" gasped the voice, in apparent amazement. "Then that accounts for your accident!" "But where am I?" I inquired eagerly. "You need not trouble, I assure you," answered the voice, pleasantly. "You are with friends." "Then I am not in a hospital?" "Certainly not. Having witnessed your accident, I am trying to do what little I can for you." The voice was low-pitched; and, further, it struck me as being disguised. "May I not know the name of my good Samaritan?" I inquired.