"What's the use, Miss Walden? At the best it would mean a crutch or a cane. I couldn't bring myself to that. A dog would be better, but I never saw but one dog I'd cotton to for the job."
"Where is that dog, Mr. Norval?"
"The Lord knows. Gone to the heaven of good, faithful pups, probably."
"Mr. Norval?"
"Yes, Miss Walden."
"I wish, while Mr. Law is out every morning for his airing, that you would try—you could lean on my shoulder—to walk! Just think how surprised he'd be some day to find you on your feet by the north window."
"Would that please you, Miss Walden, to act the part of a nice little dog leading a blind man?"
"I'd love it! And you must remember, your doctor says your eyes are better. Mr. Norval," here the words came with almost cruel sternness, "I think it is—it is cowardly for you not to try and make the best of things. Even if you can't see very well, or walk very well, you have no right to hold back from doing the best you can! It is mean and small."
Ah! if Norval could have seen the eyes that were searching his grim face.
"You may be right. I begin to feel I am not going to die!" Norval drew in a deep breath, his lips relaxed.