The bridal was over, and the congratulations nearly so; when a stranger was announced, an uninvited guest, and from his armchair in the corner Louis saw that it was the same kind face which had bent so fearlessly over his pillow little more than six months before.
James De Vere--the name was echoed from lip to lip, but did not penetrate the silent chamber where Maude sat weeping yet.
A rapid glance through the rooms assured the young man that she was not there: and when the summons to supper was given he went to Louis and asked him for his sister.
"She is upstairs," said Louis, adding impulsively: "she will be glad you have come, for she has talked of you so much."
"Talked of me!" and the eyes of James De Vere looked earnestly into Louis' face. "And does she talk of me still?"
"Yes," said Louis, "I heard her once when she was asleep, though I ought not to have mentioned it," he continued, suddenly recollecting himself, "for when I told her, she blushed so red, and bade me not to tell."
"Take me to her, will you?" said Mr. De Vere, and following his guide he was soon opposite the door of Maude's room.
"Wait a moment," he exclaimed, passing his fingers through his hair, and trying in vain to brush from his coat the dust which had settled there.
"It don't matter, for she can't see," said Louis, who comprehended at once the feelings of his companion.
By this time they stood within the chamber, but so absorbed was Maude in her own grief that she did not hear her brother until he bent over her and whispered in her ear, "Wake, sister, if you're sleeping. He's come. He's here!"
She had no need to ask of him who had come. She knew intuitively, and starting up, her unclosed eyes flashed eagerly around the room, turning at last toward the door where she felt that he was standing.
James De Vere remained motionless, watching intently the fair, troubled face, which had never seemed so fair to him, before.
"Brother, have you deceived me? Where is he?" she said at last, as her listening ear caught no new sound.
"Here, Maude, here," and gliding to her side, Mr. De Vere wound his arm around her, and kissing her lips, called her by the name to which she was getting accustomed, and which never sounded so soothingly as when breathed by his melodious voice. "My poor, blind Maude," was all he said, but by the clasp of his warm hand, by the tear she felt upon her cheek, and by his very silence, she knew how deeply he sympathized with her.
Knowing that they would rather be alone, Louis went below, where many inquiries were making for the guest who had so suddenly disappeared. The interview between the two was short, for some of Maude's acquaintance came up to see her, but it sufficed for Mr. De Vere to learn all that he cared particularly to know then. Maude did not love J.C., whose marriage with another caused her no regret, and this knowledge made the future seem hopeful and bright. It was not the time to speak of that future to her, but he bade her take courage, hinting that his purse, should never be closed until every possible means had been used for the restoration of her sight. What wonder, then, if she dreamed that night that she could see again, and, that the good angel by whose agency this blessing had been restored to her was none other than James De Vere.
