I had done no good by my interference, only caused them to be a little more guarded in my presence, and perhaps dislike me more. But Marian Reed no longer made any effort to conceal the restless discontent which devoured her. Not for a moment suspecting the cause, Lilian was greatly puzzled to account for the other's increasing discontent, and redoubled her efforts to please, though she was only snubbed for her pains.
'Do you think that I leave anything undone, Mary?' she would anxiously ask me, when she and I were alone. 'Or do you think that Marian's feelings are really deeper than we at first imagined them to be, about—the wrong done to her mother, and that all this luxury jars upon her?' After waiting a moment for an answer, which came not (how could I express my belief as to the real cause of Marian's discomfort?), she went on: 'But you know how much I try to spare her, Mary—you know that I would not for the world do anything to remind her of the shame. Do I not share it?'
Yes; I did know. But I could only kiss the sweet brow and murmur some platitude about hoping that things would right themselves in time. I would not attempt to inculcate any of the worldly wisdom which it had cost me my youth to obtain. Rather was I inclined to encourage her pure faith and trust in others—her ignorance of evil—as long as possible. The pain which comes with one kind of knowledge, I would spare her as long as possible. For the present, it did her no harm to believe a little too much in others; at least so I told myself.
Darling! whatever others might think, I knew that your gentleness and forbearance did not proceed from weakness. When the time of trial came, they would see! It was nearer than I imagined it to be, and came in a different and far more serious form than my gravest fears had foreshadowed. It was nearly six months after Mr Farrar's death, and there was beginning to be some talk of preparing for the wedding, which was to take place in two months, Lilian having yielded to her lover's importunities the more readily from the knowledge that she was obeying her father's wishes, when like a sudden thunder-clap, the shock came.
[COLOUR-BLINDNESS.]
The peculiar defect of vision known as colour-blindness to which many people are subject, is due to various causes; but very little is known of its real nature. In different persons it has a different effect, being in some a complete inability to distinguish between the commonest colours; while in others it is merely a temporary confusion of the impressions conveyed by different hues, or a tendency to give the wrong names to colours, which can be perfectly distinguished from each other, though the mind cannot verify, so to speak, the distinction.
To take the first case first. A man who is perfectly 'colour-blind' cannot detect the slightest difference between the stripes on the 'red, white, and blue' flag; to him the red and green lamps of the railways are the same; and the leaves and flowers of the most variously stocked garden are more uniform in tone, in the clearest sunlight, than they would be to an ordinary eye by moonlight. (The effect of moonlight, it is well known, is to give a monochromous appearance to the most varied colours.) In the other case, a man who has, say the three cardinal colours, red, blue, and yellow, placed before him, can tell that there is a difference between them, but is unable to identify them; and while perhaps one day he is able to sort a number of pieces of glass of these three colours, he will be unable to perform the operation the next day.
Persons who are thus afflicted—for it is an affliction, though often they do not actually know of the defect to which they are subject—may possess in every other way the keenest eyesight; and it by no means follows that a man who is colour-blind has in any other way less perfect eyesight than an artist or any other person whose calling requires nicety of distinction in the matter of colours and hues. The question occurs, To what is colour-blindness due? In certain cases, to a want of education of the eye in this particular service; but more generally to local causes and diseases, and to hereditary defect. Instances occurring under the first-named class are not real cases of colour-blindness. It is really no more true to say that a man is colour-blind because he calls red 'green,' or blue 'yellow' persistently, and with a perfect appreciation of the difference, simply because he has never been taught, than it is to call a man blind who calls an oval 'round,' because he has learned no better. But in the other instances the colour-blindness is a true defect. In Egypt, China, and other countries where ophthalmia is prevalent, colour-blindness is common; and the peculiar light which exists in certain localities where there is a large expanse of flat sandy soil, and which is known to be very trying to the eyesight, is very often found to produce this defect where it does not otherwise impair the vision. Hereditary cases of colour-blindness are common. The painter Turner has been said by some of his critics to have been colour-blind; and we believe that one of his sisters had a defect of vision which caused her to confuse one colour with another in such a way as to prevent her from describing accurately a picture placed before her.
In reference to the theory that the recent disastrous railway accident at Arlesey was owing to a mistake of the engine-driver as to the colour of the signal displayed against him, a correspondent of the Times points out that colour-blindness may be acquired. 'A few years ago,' he says, 'I was investigating colour appreciation, and the first instance of the acquired defect that came to my knowledge was in the person of an engine-driver. This man confessed, after an accident through his not distinguishing the red signal, that he had gradually lost his colour-power, which had been perfect; and so sensible was he of his loss and its disadvantages, that before the accident he had determined to give up the situation. The manager of the Company, who told me the circumstance, assured me that this driver had been carefully examined but a few years back and passed as possessing perfect sight.'