A horror-struck expression gleamed for a second from the anxious eyes of
the brother-in-law, but he controlled it quickly. He spoke gently. "Tell
me about it--it will do you good to talk."

The judge turned from the fire, and at sight of his flushed cheeks and
lighted eyes the other shrank back, and the judge saw it. "You needn't
be alarmed," he said quietly. "Nothing is wrong with me. But something
has happened, as I told you, and everything--is changed." His eyes
lifted as he spoke and strayed about the room as if considering a change
which had come also to the accustomed setting.

A shock of pity flashed from the other, and was mastered at once. "Can
you tell me what has happened?" he urged. The judge, his face bright
with a brightness that was dreadful to the man who watched him, held his
hand to the fire, turning it about as if enjoying the warmth. The other
shivered. There was silence for a minute. The judge broke it, speaking
thoughtfully:

"Suppose you had been born blind, Ned," he began, "and no one had ever
given you a hint of the sense of vision, and your imagination had never
presented such a power to your mind. Can you suppose that?"

"I think so--yes," the brother-in-law answered, with careful gentleness,
watching always the illumined countenance. "Yes, I can suppose it."

"Then fancy if you will that all at once sight came, and the world
flashed before you. Do you think you'd be able to describe such an
experience?"