CHAPTER II.

O dolce Amor che di riso t' ammanti Quanto parevi ardente in que' favilli Ch' aveano spirto sol di pensier santi.

Dante, _Paradiso, cant._ 20mo.

Dame Jones's infallible remedy rather increased than diminished the evil; and Susan's spirits began to fail her at the continued suffering, the enforced idleness, and also in some degree at the disfigurement occasioned by the dimming of her brilliant eyes; for she was not without a share of female vanity,--vanity which is indulged as almost a laudable feeling when it is for the sake of another that personal attractions are valued.

The Sunday on which Susan and her lover were to be asked in church was fast approaching, when she half sadly, half sportively, thus addressed him: "You had better go to Mr. Sandford, George, and tell him not to say any thing about us in church. It would never do to be a bride with such eyes as these;" and she tried to smile, though she was more inclined to weep.

"There will be plenty of time for your eyes to get quite well, Susan, before we are out-asked."

"They must begin to mend, George, before we need talk of their getting well," replied Susan with a sigh; and then she playfully added, "Do you remember your telling me when Miss Alice, that was, walked down the church-yard, looking so blushing and beautiful, that you would show them a prettier bride before long; and that, though she would not have such a smart lace-veil to hang over her face, she would have a pair of brighter eyes to shine out of her bonnet. You must wait a bit, George, before your words can come true."

"Not long, Susan, not long; I am sure you will be well before three weeks are over; that's a long time."

"So it is, George,--a long, long time to be as I am! But the folks shan't laugh at you for having such a homely half-blind bride. I should not like you to be ashamed of your wife, upon the wedding-day at all events;" and she tried to carry off her sadness and her mortification by an assumed air of sprightliness.

Still poor Susan's eyes did not mend; her mother's applications, and Dame Jones's wonderful remedy, proved equally unavailing. Susan's spirits quite gave way: she often sat and wept when her mother's back was towards her, and her sightless father could not perceive how sad his once light-hearted girl was now become. After Alice's marriage, the family of the Mowbrays had left home for some time, and Mr. Sandford was old and had been ill, or Susan's sufferings would never have been allowed to continue so long, without her having been provided with better medical attendance. The old couple themselves had derived so little benefit from the advice of doctors, that they, as is frequently the case among the poor, reposed more confidence in the doctoring of Mr. Sandford, or of any other gentleman or lady, than in that of the first physician in the land. They all felt anxious that the good minister should recover his health, and visit them; and they flattered themselves he would soon afford Susan some relief. When he did call, he was shocked at the alteration in the poor girl's appearance, and he instantly sent for the best medical practitioner in the neighbourhood, deeming the case much too important a one for his own unassisted advice.

Mr. Sandford's countenance first excited alarm, serious alarm, in Susan's mind: for the first time she trembled for her eye-sight; and an icy chill ran through her when she thought of her future fate.

George called as he returned home from work; and, on hearing that Mr. Sandford had visited the cottage, his countenance brightened: "Then now we shall see you begin to mend! What has our good minister told you to do, Susan? Am I to go to his house to-night to fetch any stuff for you?"

"No, George, no. He says I must see the real doctor. He says he can't do any thing for me himself." George looked amazed and confounded. "He says he does not understand such things himself;" and she added, in a tone which she tried to make perfectly calm and composed, "he says he is afraid I shall not be well for a long time."

George was in despair. He thought, if Mr. Sandford could not cure a complaint, it must indeed be a bad one! He turned his eyes towards the old dame: she sat, as usual, rocking herself backwards and forwards, with her hands pressed to her side, in mental as well as bodily suffering, for she too had been struck by the manner of their pastor. "We shall hear what the doctor says to-morrow, George! I am sorry now that we kept waiting and waiting for Mr. Sandford to get well; but I have had enough of doctors in my time, and I was loth to begin again with them. We must hope for the best, and not be down-hearted."

"She is young, poor thing!" added old Nicholas; "and 'tis to be hoped she won't be afflicted at her age as I am. I was near three-score when I lost my eye-sight, and I thought it a heavy affliction. It would be a deal worse for a young thing just turned her one-and-twenty," continued the father, at once uttering in plain English the utmost extent of their fears, in the simple straightforward manner common among the poor people, but which would sound harsh and unfeeling to the sensibilities of the more refined.

"I only hope I may be able to bear my trials as well as you do, father, if I am to be so afflicted," exclaimed Susan, as she burst into an agony of tears, rendered the more violent by her having previously attempted to control herself.

"Susan, Susan, you must not take on so," said George, anxious to soothe her.

"You'll do your poor eyes more harm if you cry, Susan," said her mother, "than the doctor can cure in a week. You must try not to give way, Susan dear!"

"Cheer up, my child," added Nicholas. "We do not know yet what the doctor will say; perhaps it may not be so bad after all."

Susan dried her tears, and tried to be composed; but the inmates of Nicholas Foster's humble cottage retired to rest that night with sadness in their hearts, which was not destined to be much alleviated by the doctor's visit the next day. He talked of time and patience, of a cooling diet and soothing applications, a tranquil mind and the necessity of not fretting,--of all injunctions the most difficult to obey! He gave them hope certainly, which, though not enough to relieve Susan's mind, was eagerly caught at by George, and he was beginning to urge that it could do no harm if they were asked in church.

"Not yet, George, not yet. Wait till I begin to mend. I should be but a useless wife to you at present. I have given up the thought of making a pretty bride," she continued in a tone almost of bitterness; "but I must be able to do for you, and to keep your house tidy: so there's no use in talking about being asked in church, George."

George desisted, for her manner was so resolved he felt it impossible to oppose her.