"Yes, I see—a hand, but—it looks blue."
At this the surgeon clasped his hands in thanksgiving, and exclaimed: "Victory! If you did not see the blue coloring at first, madam, I should be in despair."
Yes, victory was his, for his skill and for his love. He continued his tests, first by resting the eye, then by bringing objects within the range of vision. At last he gently led Doris in full view.
"It is Doris, my faithful, patient child, whose dear face I have not seen for so long," she said with emotion that threatened tears, but this the doctor forbade, and proceeded at once to carefully seal the patient's eyelids.
"Keep the room light, and watch her day and night. She must not touch the eye even in sleep," was his parting injunction.
"But, doctor, don't you bandage the eye? And my room was kept dark after the other operation was performed."
"No, madam, the room must be light, and I do not bandage the eye."
The days went by, each new one revealing some half-forgotten picture to the patient. She already loved Dr. Douglas as a son, and her bodily infirmities, real or fancied, were fast vanishing away. Ralph had been found, and a telegram said he was coming. Easter eve was here, and as the doctor took leave his grateful patient bade him good-night with unusual feeling,
"Through you," she said, "I am made to realize the precious promise, 'At evening time it shall be light.' Think what this anniversary must be to me! The morning will celebrate the resurrection of Him who was the Light of the world. Light, light, everywhere! How can I be thankful enough!"