He was tired of asking what she meant, and he made no answer. But Nina was too intent upon other matters to heed his silence. Going to his secretary she arranged materials for writing, and then taking his hand, said, in the commanding tone she used toward Edith when at all refractory, "Come and write. 'Tis the only chance of saving her life."
"Write what?" he asked, as he rose from his chair and suffered her to lead him to the desk.
He had written occasionally since his blindness, but it was not a frequent thing, and his fingers closed awkwardly about the pen she placed in his hand. Feeling curious to know the meaning of all this, he felt for the paper and then said to her,
"I am ready for you to dictate."
But dictation was no part of Nina's intentions. The lines traced upon that sheet would contain a secret which Richard must not know; and with a merry laugh, as she thought how she would cheat him, she replied,
"No, SIR. Only Miggie and I can read what you write. Nina will guide your hand and trace the words."
Dipping the pen afresh into the ink, she bade him take it, and grasping his fingers, guided them while they wrote as follows;
"I, THE BLIND MAN, RICHARD HARRINGTON,—
"That last was my name," interrupted Richard, who was rewarded by a slight pull of the hair, as Nina said,
"Hush, be quiet."