Sight to the Blind | Page 5

thrilled in her voice,--"when I seed that one little tender
yoe lamb that I cherished with deathless love begin for to pale and
cough and pine, then and thar the sword entered my soul, my heart
turnt over in my breast, and I cried out wild and desperate: 'Not this!
not this! Take all else I got, but not her! It is cruel, it is onjust. I rebel
ag'in' it, I will never endure it.' And I kep' a-crying it as I seed her fade
and thin; I cried it when the last breath flickered from her pore little
body; I cried it when I laid her in the cold ground; I cried it when the
preachers come to see me atterward, threatening judgment; I cried it
when I felt the curse a-falling and the sight of my-eyes a-going; I cried
it loud and fierce at her funeral occasion; and cry it I will to the end of
my darkened days! It were cruel, it were onjust, it were horrible, it were
wicked, of God to treat me that way, and never will I say it wa' n't!"
Miss Shippen waited a full minute before answering quietly and slowly:
"It was cruel, it was unjust, it was horrible, it was wicked, that you
should have been made to suffer so; above all, Aunt Dalmanutha, it was
unnecessary. With a little knowledge, and proper food and fresh air,
your daughter's life could have been saved; with knowledge and proper
treatment your sons need not have died of dysentery or typhoid or even
diphtheria; with knowledge your blindness itself, which is no curse, but
would as surely have come upon you had you never lost Evy and never
rebelled in your heart, need have lasted only a few months. For these
are cataracts that you have on your eyes, and nothing would have been
simpler and easier than their removal."
Amazement, incredulity, almost horror were written upon Aunt
Dalmanutha's countenance as she heard these quiet words.
"Where do you get your authority over preachers, woman?" she
demanded, leaning fiercely forward,
"I get my authority," replied the trained nurse, firmly, "from my
knowledge of modern medicine and surgery; I get my authority from

things seen with my eyes and heard with my ears during days and
nights of duty on the battle-line between life and death; I get my
authority," she continued more solemnly, "from Him whose spirit of
freedom and tolerance has made possible the advances in modern
science; who is the source of the rising tide of helpfulness manifest in
human hearts everywhere; who, when he was on earth, went about
doing good, and proclaiming not the hate, the vengeance, the cruelty of
God, but His mercy, His kindness, His pity, His fatherly love."
The blind woman sat as though turned to stone, except that the veins in
her neck and temples throbbed violently.
"Do you mean to tell me God never wanted to take my loved ones from
me?" she asked at length from a dry throat.
"I do. I mean that their deaths, so far from being the will of God, were
the fruit alone of ignorance and of evil conditions."
"You mean to say that the hand of vengeance wa' n't never lifted ag'in'
me, and I hain't never sot under no curse?"
"I do."
"And that the preachers has lied to me?" she said through clenched
jaws.
"They were simply mistaken; they knew no better."
Aunt Dalmanutha lifted a shaking arm. "Woe to them if ever they cross
my path ag'in!" she cried hoarsely.
"Don't think about them," said the nurse; "the thing for you to do at
once is to go down to Lexington, in the Blue Grass country, to a doctor
I know there who does great things for eyes, and who, if it is not too
late, will remove those cataracts and restore you to sight and usefulness
and strength, as God intends. I will write at once to the hospital, and
make the arrangements; you should start within a week. The trip," she
added, "need cost you nothing, if you are unable to pay your way."

Aunt Dalmanutha drew herself up proudly.
"I hain't a' object of charity," she said. "If I go, I 'll pay my way. I got
something laid by still from my weaving days. But it has come on me
too sudden'; I feel all lost; I will have to study a heap before, I can
make up my mind." She moved her hands about before her in a dazed,
helpless way.
During the rest of the visit she was silent and distraught. Twice at
dinner her shaking hands knocked over her coffee-cup, and once the
sorghum-pitcher, little fair-haired Evy cleaning up quietly after her
granny, and placing things to her