"And will I see then, mother?"
"If God pleases, dear. But, Willie, if he does not see fit to give you back your sight, could you bear it, and try to think that it is his will, and he knows best?"
Willie drew a long, heavy breath, and was silent a moment, grasping his mother's fingers till the pressure almost pained her; then he said, low, and with a quiver in his voice, "I would try, mother; but it would be 'most too hard after all. If it could be just for a little while, just so I could see your dear face for a few moments, then I would try to say, 'Thy will be done.'"
"However it is, we must say that, my boy; but, please the Lord, we shall yet praise him for his great goodness in giving you back your poor, dear eyes."
As she spoke, the door opened, and her husband put his head in.
"Here's the doctor, Mary," he said, with a voice that shook, in spite of his efforts to keep it steady; and then he came in, followed by the doctor and Mrs. Granby.
The latter, by the doctor's orders, opened the window so as to let in a little softened light, and after a few cheerful words the doctor unfastened the bandage, and uncovered the long sightless eyes. Willie was resting in his mother's arms with his head back against her shoulder, and she knew that he had turned it so that her face might be the first object his eyes rested on.
It was done; and, with a little glad cry, the boy threw up his arms about his mother's neck.
"What is it, Willie?" asked his father, scarcely daring to trust his voice to speak.