Now the deep eyes brightened, the
lovely cheek grew damask. She stood
all a-quiver as he halted, for some
telepathic sense seemed to tell him
she was nearing him. Her small,
pretty hand would steal shyly into his
own. Proudly, flutteringly she would
lead him across into the park and
deliver him into the guardianship of
the gleeful coterie of little ones await
ing him.
"Thanks, mademoiselle, you help
to make my life beautiful," always
Moore would say, but never an audi
ble response. Only a soft pressure of
the guiding hand, and then a flow
er. He would wait while speedy fin
gers attached a rose or a carnation
to his coat. He would bow his head
to catch the exquisite perfume. Then
his sightless face would turn seraph
like upon his silent helper, and Cecile
would go back to her little flower
stand, her features glorified and
dream.
Finally, for a week, Cecile missed
her friend. She grew pale and thin
and distressed. She watched from her
little booth hourly. Moore was gone,
and with him her sole interest in life,
the sunshine, heaven!
There came to her the woman in
charge of the little hotel one day. She
placed a eoleau of gold pieces upon
the counter of the flowerstand.
"See, Cecile," she said softly, "the
maestro has gone to see a wonderful
surgeon in London. He bade me bring
you the money, and each day you are
to take your daintiest blossoms to
the little ones. He left the word, too.
It was this: A kiss through me of
hope, of courage, of gratitude," and
the woman pressed her lips to the
brow of the pure, innocent girl.
Cecile burst Into tears. She clasped
the hand of the kindly dame, kneel
ing. Then she stood transfixed as in
a dream. The kiss from him! A cor
onet seemed to wreath her brow. She
was aroused only as she heard some
one address the departing messenger.
"The maestro is gone, I hear?" was
uttered
"Yes," came the answer, ''but to re
turn to the spot where loving hearts,
made of life a paradise. We pray for,
him that his sight may be restored,,
as he hopes."
"Ah, indeed, may heaven be merci
ful to return him to see his grand
masterpiece in the salon " ,
"He said not." .
"Then why what?" ;
"Lucille, he said " The voices died
away, the soulful eyes of the girl stolef
startlingly after them. "Lucile!" Ohi:
what meant this. "A kiss" "Lucile!
The quivering face sank deep in a,
bowl of roses, as if imploring the .flow
er fairies to tell the mystery.
She hid her hand in her bosom,
blushing as though to shut away the
sight of a tell-tale. Had those tender
fingers told the story of her devotion,
had the thrill of her gentle soul per
meated her touch of the hand she so
cherished.
And then one day oh, love immor
tal! There came out from the en
trance of the hotel the familiar form.
But there was no cane now. He
hvalked erect, his bearing that of some
knight, gladsome, m rhapsody with
life and all its message. A new glory
shone from the noble face, sightless
no longer. Straight up to the pal
pitating Cecile he advanced, both
hands extended. And there he stood,
silent, motionless, while he gazed past
those beautiful eyes into the very-soul
of the lovely girl.
"Cecile! Cecile!" he said softly at
length "to see you first, my dream,
my thought reality! Come I am
yours, you are mine."
Her hand went tremulously to her
lips. In mute signal she motioned
that she was dumb.
"I knew It not until the day I went
away," he said, the more fervently
encircling her dear hand. "And then I
knew how I loved her who loved ,me
blind, .stricken, helpless. But ""your
eyes they speak, your soul, it
speaks! Carita how happy we shall
be!"
And so it was. There was aquiet