“I hope you won’t let me fall!” exclaimed Nathalie cheerily. “I don’t want to break my nose or anything just yet.”
What a weird feeling it gave her to be led along a stone walk, then up a few steps guided by her companion’s strong arm, then evidently into a hall, as Nathalie surmised by the polished floor covered with heavy rugs. After being led stumblingly up the stairway—which she thought would never come to an end—they crept slowly along for some distance; she could not tell whether it was a hall or a room, and felt very trembly as she afterwards told her mother, and she was brought to a sudden halt by hearing, “Oh, Mamma, here she is!”
The voice did not belong to a small child and Nathalie, surprised, stood still in embarrassed silence wondering what was coming next.
“Oh, Doctor, how kind you are!” cried another voice. “I had given you up, how obstinate you must think me!” The voice faltered, and then Nathalie felt a soft touch on her arm as it continued, “Oh, it was very kind of you to consent to come and entertain my daughter, and to be obliged to come this way, too. I feel guilty; I know how unpleasant it must be to have something over your eyes.”
“Well, don’t worry over that now,” was the doctor’s terse admonition. “I have complied with your requests—on second thought, and my young girl friend has been most kind in agreeing to your wishes, for the present at least. Later, I hope, you will change your mind about these blinders.”
“Please don’t scold,” cried the voice again, “I know it is foolish of me. I will lead you to a chair!” the owner of the voice exclaimed as the girl gropingly put out her hand as if afraid of falling. Then the same soft touch led the blinded one across the room. “No, you are not going to fall; there you are all right now,” she said, as Nathalie with a sense of relief sank back in a chair.
“Now,” continued the voice, “I am going to be your eyes and tell you what is before you.”
“That will be very nice,” interposed embarrassed Nathalie, feeling somewhat foolish at having to sit in this queer way before people. She was at a loss what to say, but had time to collect herself as the lady went on talking rapidly. She described the room with its hangings, the pictures on the wall, told where the doors and windows were, and—“Oh, here is the couch—” she hesitated slightly, “and on it is my daughter, her name is—”
“Oh, Mamma, if you don’t want the young lady to know my name, tell her I’m the Princess in the Tower!” exclaimed the same sweet voice that had called out when Nathalie first entered the room.
“That will be just the thing, ‘the Princess in the Tower,’” laughed the lady lightly. “Now, Princess, I am going to leave you to entertain Miss—”