"You must keep a brave heart, my dear," she had said, "for your father will need help and encouragement. A heavy cross has been laid upon him, but many a cross brings a blessing with it, remember."
"I don't see how blindness could bring a blessing with it," Josephine had answered, and Mrs. Ford had said no more.
It was a bright hot morning in late August when Josephine, taking the letters from the postman in the garden, saw that there was one addressed to herself. Her heart gave a throb of mingled surprise and joy; for, though the handwriting on the envelope was sprawling and uncertain, she recognized it at once as her father's. Tearing open the envelope she read—
"MY DEAR LITTLE DAUGHTER,—"
"If all's well I shall be with you to-morrow."
"Your loving father,"
"PAUL BASSET."
She pressed her lips to the letter again and again; then darted into the house, and into the breakfast-room where the other members of the family were taking their seats at the table.
"Oh, what do you think?" she cried, "I've heard from father! He's written to me himself! Oh, isn't it wonderful? I never thought I should have a letter from him again! Oh, look, look!"
She allowed every one to examine the precious letter; then suddenly remembered the other letters the postman had given her, and handed them to Mr. Basset. One of these was from Captain Basset's servant—Warner he was called—whom the blind man had engaged in London. Warner was now at Brighton with his new master, who had instructed him to write to Mr. Basset.