“Oh, Cousin Roger! What made you?” she cried. “You must let me bandage your eyes again.”
“Never,” he replied, catching her hand as he felt it touch his face. “I have waited for that confounded doctor to come till I’m tired. My eyes must get accustomed to the light or I’ll never see, and Victoria, I have heard your voice, your laugh, have felt your presence until I am wild to see your face.” He groped for her face, and took it between his hands, drawing it close until it nearly touched his own.
“Can you see me?” she asked eagerly. He sadly dropped his hands.
“No, Victoria. I cannot see even an object. Oh, God! the thought that perhaps I may be totally blind is maddening. Victoria!” His voice as he spoke her name ran the whole gamut of love, hope, despair, misery.
Victoria quickly placed her hand upon his. “What is it, dear Roger?”
“Victoria, I cannot live if I am blind. When the doctor comes, if he tells me there is no hope, I shall end my useless life—there.” He pointed toward the lake.
“Oh, no, no, Roger! How can you think of anything so horrible? Have you no love for your mother who adores you, that you should grieve her so?”
“I shall soon be forgotten, Victoria. Better to die and end it all than to live a burden, and no comfort to anybody. Ah, Victoria, you do not know what hopes I have cherished. What visions I have seen. God grant they may be realized.” He grasped the hand which still lingered on his arm. “My angel of peace, my comforter, my eyes, it is a cruel question I am going to ask you. Could you sacrifice your youth, your fresh beauty, to become the companion for life of one who would be a constant care; who could not bear to have you from his side one moment?”
A glad light suffused Victoria’s face, but ere she could reply Andrew stood before them. She quickly withdrew her hand from Roger’s, whose sad countenance became still sadder.
“Ah, here you are,” said Andrew, noting with his keen eyes the disturbed faces before him. “What, Roger! Are you without the bandage?”