Margret? The Doctor and I will go and walk on the porch before
it grows dark."

The sun had gone down long before, and the stars were out; but no
one spoke of this. Knowles lighted the school-master's pipe and
his own cigar, and then moved the chairs out of their way,
stepping softly that the old man might not hear him. Margret, in
the room, watched them as they went, seeing how gentle the rough,
burly man was with her father, and how, every time they passed
the sweet-brier, he bent the branches aside, that they might not
touch his face. Slow, childish tears came into her eyes as she
saw it; for the school-master was blind. This had been their
regular walk every evening, since it grew too cold for them to go
down under the lindens. The Doctor had not missed a night since
her father gave up the school, a month ago: at first, under
pretence of attending to his eyes; but since the day he had told
them there was no hope of cure, he had never spoken of it again.
Only, since then, he had grown doubly quarrelsome,--standing
ready armed to dispute with the old man every inch of every
subject in earth or air, keeping the old man in a state of boyish
excitement during the long, idle days, looking forward to this
nightly battle.

It was very still; for the house, with its half-dozen acres, lay
in an angle of the hills, looking out on the river, which shut
out all distant noises. Only the men's footsteps broke the
silence, passing and repassing the window. Without, the October
starlight lay white and frosty on the moors, the old barn, the
sharp, dark hills, and the river, which was half hidden by the
orchard. One could hear it, like some huge giant moaning in his