"Permit me to give you my hand," I said huskily. How I longed to carry
her! Every man with the right sort of a heart in his breast has a touch of
the mother instinct in him; but, alas I only a touch. Ah, wondrous and
glorious womanhood! If you had naught but the mother instinct to lift you
above your masters by the hand of man-made laws, those masters were still
unworthy to tie the strings of your shoes.

"Thank you," said the girl, as she clasped my hand, and moved with
confidence by my side. "This is so much better than the dreadful fear of
falling. Even through these rooms where I have lived for many years I feel
safe only in a few places,--on the stairs, and in my rooms, which are also
Dorothy's. When Dorothy changes the position of a piece of furniture in
the Hall, she leads me to it several times that I may learn just where it
is. A long time ago she changed the position of a chair and did not tell
me. I fell against it and was hurt. Dorothy wept bitterly over the mishap,
and she has never since failed to tell me of such changes. I cannot make
you know how kind and tender Dorothy is to me. I feel that I should die
without her, and I know she would grieve terribly were we to part."

I could not answer. What a very woman you will think I was! I, who could
laugh while I ran my sword through a man's heart, could hardly restrain my
tears for pity of this beautiful blind girl.

"Thank you; that will do," she said, when we came to the foot of the great
staircase. "I can now go to my rooms alone."

When she reached the top she hesitated and groped for a moment; then she
turned and called laughingly to me while I stood at the bottom of the
steps, "I know the way perfectly well, but to go alone in any place is not
like being led."