The acquaintance thus renewed, was not likely again to drop, and from paying them frequent visits, it very soon happened that either Dr. Vernon or his son was sure to call to see the invalid every day. Arthur Vernon was at this time about five and twenty, and was no less remarkable for his great talents than for his amiable disposition. He had inherited an independent fortune from a distant relative, but, from love of science, and a consciousness of the wide field of active benevolence that they might open to him, he had studied medicine and surgery with great perseverance. Latterly he had devoted himself more particularly to the consideration of the eye, and the truth was, he began to think that Mr. Mannering's sight was not irrevocably gone, and that he had a knowledge of remedies which, by the blessing of God, would restore the sight of his father's old friend. It was to Mary herself that Mr. Vernon first breathed his hopes of effecting a cure, and is there much wonder that henceforth she looked forward to his visits with interest and delight? And, as day by day hope seemed to promise recovered sight more and more surely, it was very natural that she should feel deep gratitude to the young surgeon. Sometimes when Mr. Vernon came, Mary was at needlework, sometimes attending to the necessary domestic arrangements, and sometimes reading to her father; and, if the last was the case, the conversation not unfrequently turned upon the book before them. Mary had acquired one valuable piece of information. She knew enough to understand how very trifling was the sum of all her knowledge; it may be remarked that very ignorant persons are almost always the most conceited. Such individuals have no more idea of knowledge than those born blind or deaf can have of sight or sound. But the gentle humble-minded Mary Mannering was a very opposite character. She was _not_ ignorant; she had, as it were, peeped, through books and conversations with her father, at the vast stores of knowledge and learning which human reason has been permitted to accumulate; and, though she knew how little, in the longest life, could really be mastered, in comparison with the mighty whole, she also knew that one of the purest pleasures that life affords proceeds from acquiring the sort of information which opens to our view the wonders of creation. Thus would she quietly listen to conversations on many improving subjects between her father and Mr. Vernon, seldom joining in them, it is true, unless she was addressed. But hers was that "eloquent silence" which is the opposite of indifference. And thus several months passed away; for the remedies Mr. Vernon recommended to his patient were slow in their operation. Winter came, and still he was a daily visitor. Oh! how sadly Mary would have missed him! An event, however, was about to occur of some importance; nothing less than Harriet's return home from her protracted visit at Mrs. Somerton's.