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194 THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. |
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Her voice is sweet and musical, I know. I have often loved to hear it. Her shape-------"
" There's not a Doll's in all the room to equal it," said Caleb. "And her eyes ! "—
He stopped ; for Bertha had drawn closer round his neck; and, from the arm that clung about him, came a warning pressure which he understood too well.
He coughed a moment, hammered for a moment, and then fell back upon the song about the Sparkling Bowl; his infallible resource in all such difficulties.
"Our friend, father; our benefactor. I am never tired you know of hearing about him.—Now was I, ever ?" she said, hastily.
" Of course not," answered Caleb. " And with reason."
" Ah ! With how much reason ! " cried the Blind Girl. With such fervency, that Caleb, though his motives were so pure, could not endure to meet her face; but dropped his eyes, as if she could have read in them his innocent deceit.
"Then tell me again about him, dear father," said Bertha. "Many times again! His face is benevolent, kind, and tender. Honest and true, I am sure it is. The manly heart that tries to cloak all favours with a show of roughness and unwillingness, beats in its every look and glance."
" And makes it noble," added Caleb in his quiet desperation.
"And makes it noble!" cried the Blind Girl. "He is older than May, father."
"Ye-es," said Caleb, reluctantly. "He's a little older than May. But that don't signify."
" Oh father, yes ! To be his patient companion in infirmity and age; to be his gentle nurse in sickness, and his constant friend in suffering and sorrow; to know no weariness in working for his sake ; to watch him, tend him; sit beside his bed and talk to him, awake; and pray for him asleep; what privileges these would be ! What opportunities for proving all her truth and her devotion to him ! Would she do all this, dear father ?"
" No doubt of it," said Caleb.
" I love her, father; I can love her from my soul!" exclaimed the Blind Girl. And saying so, she laid her poor blind face on Caleb's shoulder, and so wept and wept, that he was almost sorry to have brought that tearful happiness upon her.
In the mean time, there had been a pretty sharp commotion at John Peerybingle's; for little Mrs. Peerybingle naturally couldn't think of going anywhere without the Baby; and to get the Baby under weigh, took time. Not that there was much of the Baby : speaking of it as a thing of weight and measure : but there was a |
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