inhale the sweet perfume of the southern flowers.

But all this did not give him strength. On the contrary, the hectic
flush on his cheek deepened daily, his hands grew thinner and paler, and
the eyelids seemed to droop more heavily over the sightless eyes. Robin
was going to die, and he knew it, and talked of it freely with his
sister, and of Heaven, where Christ would make him whole.

"It will be such joy to see," he said to her one night when they sat
together by the window of his room, with the silvery moonlight falling
on his beautiful face and making it like the face of an angel. "Such joy
to see again, and the very first one I shall look at after Christ and
mother, will be old blind Bartimeus, who sat by the roadside and begged.
I have not had to do that, and my life has been very, very happy, for
you have been my eyes, and made me see everything. You know I have a
faint recollection of the grass, and the flowers, and the trees in the
park, and that has helped me so much; and I have you in my mind, too,
and you are so lovely I know, for I have heard people talk of your
sweet face and beautiful eyes; starry eyes I have heard them called."

"Oh, Robbie, Robbie, don't!" came like cry of pain from Lucy's quivering
lips. But Robin did not heed her, and went on:

"Starry eyes--that's just what they are, I think; and I can imagine how
lovingly they look at me, and how pityingly, too. There is always
something so sad in your voice when you speak to me, and I say to
myself, 'That's how Lucy's eyes look at me, just as her voice sounds
when it says brother Robbie.' I shall know you in heaven, the moment you
come, and I shall be waiting for you, and when I see your eyes I shall
say, 'That is sister Lucy, come at last!' Oh, it will be such joy!--no