That night, when the July moon came up over the New England hills,
it looked down upon the four--Richard and Arthur, Grace and Edith,
sitting upon the broad piazza as they had not sat in years, Grace
a little apart from the rest, and Edith between her husband and
Richard, holding a hand of each, and listening intently while the
latter told them how rumors of a celebrated Parisian oculist had
reached him in his wanderings; how he had sought the rooms of that
oculist, leaving them a more hopeful man than when he entered; how
the hope then enkindled grew stronger month after month, until the
thick folds of darkness gave way to a creamy kind of haze, which
hovered for weeks over his horizon of sights growing gradually
whiter and thinner, until faint outlines were discovered, and to
his unutterable joy he counted the window panes, knowing then that
sight was surely coming back. He did not tell them how through all
that terrible suspense Nina seemed always with him; he would not
like to confess how superstitious he had become, fully believing
that Nina was his guardian angel, that she hovered near him, and
that the touch of her soft, little hands had helped to heal the
wound gaping so cruelly when he last bade adieu to his native
land.
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