He really did believe she was an Idiot; and he founded the belief, I can't say whether consciously or not, upon her being fond of him.
"Well! and being there,—how are you?" said Tackleton in his grudging way.
"Oh! well; quite well! And as happy as even you can wish me to be. As happy as you would make the whole world, if you could!"
"Poor Idiot!" muttered Tackleton. "No gleam of reason. Not a gleam!"
The Blind Girl took his hand and kissed it; held it for a moment in her own two hands; and laid her cheek against it tenderly before releasing it. There was such unspeakable affection and such fervent gratitude in the act, that Tackleton himself was moved to say, in a milder growl than usual:
"What's the matter now?"
"I stood it close beside my pillow when I went to sleep last night, and remembered it in my dreams. And when the day broke, and the glorious red sun—the red sun, father?"
"Red in the mornings and the evenings, Bertha," said poor Caleb with a woeful glance at his employer.
"When it rose, and the bright light I almost fear to strike myself against in walking, came into the room, I turned the little tree towards it, and blessed Heaven for making things so precious, and blessed you for sending them to cheer me!"
"Bedlam broke loose!" said Tackleton under his breath. "We shall arrive at the strait-waistcoat and mufflers soon. We're getting on!"