impulse of a nature which had been disciplined into reserve broke forth.

"It isn't so," she said with a tremor in her voice. All that he--and
she--was in danger of losing came home to her. "It isn't so. You shall
get well again. Your sight will come back. To-morrow; perhaps to-day,
Hindlip, the great oculist comes from New York. Mr. Warbeck, the
Montreal man, holds out hopes. If the New York man says the same,
why despair? Perhaps in another month you will be on your feet again,
out in the world, fighting, working, mastering, just as you used to do."

A sudden stillness seemed to take possession of him. His lips parted;
his head was thrust forwards slightly as though he saw something in the
distance. He spoke scarcely above a whisper.

"I didn't know the New York man was coming. I didn't know there was any
hope at all," he said with awe in his tones.

"We told you there was," she answered.

"Yes, I know. But I thought you were all only trying to make it easier
for me, and I heard Warbeck say to Rockwell, when they thought I was
asleep, 'It's ten to one against him.'"

"Did you hear that?" she said sorrowfully. "I'm so sorry; but Mr.
Warbeck said afterwards--only a week ago--that the chances were even.
That's the truth. On my soul and honour it's the truth. He said the
chances were even. It was he suggested Mr. Hindlip, and Hindlip is
coming now. He's on the way. He may be here to-day. Oh, be sure, be
sure, be sure, it isn't all over. You said your life was broken. It
isn't. You said my life had been broken. It wasn't. It was only the