Now it is just possible you may have heard of a complaint of the eyes called Ophthalmia, which comes on sometimes in very hot countries, India for instance; and sometimes in travelling across the deserts of Arabia, where the sand gets into the eyes, and irritates them very much; it can very often be cured, but not always, and when it cannot, it ends in blindness.  Lady Madeline knew all about the complaint; and, therefore, you will not be surprised to hear that when she found her little boy’s eyes did not get better, and that he persisted in keeping them shut, because they then became easy, she thought it right to send to some miles’ distance for a doctor, who accordingly arrived at the Sea Castle before nightfall.  But when he came he shook his head very much, for he could not understand what was the matter; and when he persuaded Roderick to lift up his eyelids, to let him see his eyes, he could perceive nothing amiss but a little redness, which the wind and sand quite accounted for.  Still the child was uneasy, and would keep his eyes shut; so the Doctor thought he must try something, and he used some lotions common in such cases; but, as they did no good, the kind old gentleman, at Madeline’s request, consented to sit by the little boy’s bedside at night; when, all at once, as he was carefully dabbing his eyes with rosewater, he perceived that the child was fast asleep.

The Doctor was delighted, and went to his mother, who was then with her husband, and said that as Roderick had gone to sleep so nicely, he had no doubt that his eyes would be well when he awoke in the morning, and so he took his leave, for he had other patients to visit.

It was then between twelve and one o’clock, and Lady Madeline, much comforted in heart, went to bed.  At an early hour next morning, however, she went to Roderick’s bedside, and perceived he was just waking.

To the question of “How are you, my darling?” his cheerful joyous voice made answer, “Oh, quite well, Mamma, and I’ve such a funny dream to tell you, and my eyes don’t hurt me a bit, not a bit! but I’m afraid to open them for fear they should.  I can tell you something so funny the Doctor said last night, Mamma.”  “Never mind about the doctor, you rogue,” cried Madeline, “I see you are all right, only just open your dear old eyes, that I may tell Papa I have seen them when I go back to dress.”

“Then I will, Mamma, to please you!” and up sat the pretty child in his bed, and opened wide his blue eyes.  There was no redness—­it was all gone—­but

“Mamma! where are you,” cried Roderick, “I have opened my eyes, and they don’t hurt—­but it is quite dark:  isn’t the night over?...”

Oh, my dear readers! there was a stream of sunshine on the lovely face and bright hair of little Roderick as he spoke, and the poor blue eyes were turned up to his mother, looking vainly for her face.  You cannot wonder if I add that she sank down fainting on the bed; and when Roderick’s scream of terror brought the nurses to them, she was carried away insensible from the room.