"Winnie," said Nigel when they were alone, "doesn't it feel awesome and strange to be standing here in such intense darkness?"
"It does—I don't quite like it."
"Whereabouts are you?" said Nigel.
He carefully stretched out his hand to feel, as he spoke, and laid a finger on her brow.
"Oh! take care of my eyes!" exclaimed Winnie with a little laugh.
"I wish you would turn your eyes towards me for I'm convinced they would give some light—? to me at least. Here, do let me hold your hand It will make you feel more confident."
To one who is at all familiar with the human frame, the way from the brow to the hand is comparatively simple. Nigel soon possessed himself of the coveted article. Like other things of great value the possession turned the poor youth's head! He forgot his father's warnings for the moment, forgot the hermit and Moses and Spinkie, and the thick darkness—forgot almost everything in the light of that touch!
"Winnie!" he exclaimed in a tone that quite alarmed her; "I—I—" He hesitated. The solemn embargo of his father recurred to him.
"What is it! Is there danger?" exclaimed the poor girl, clasping his hand tighter and drawing nearer to him.
This was too much! Nigel felt himself to be contemptible. He was taking unfair advantage of her.