For the rest, it was a point of honor with me--writing for a person who was blind--not to change a single word in the sentences which Lucilla dictated to me.

The letter completed, I wrote the address of the house in Brighton at which Mr.Finch then happened to be staying; and I was next about to close the envelope in due course--when Lucilla stopped me.
"Wait a little," she said.

"Don't close the letter yet." I wondered why the envelope was to be left open, and why Lucilla looked a little confused when she forbade me to close it.

Another unexpected revelation of the influence of their affliction on the natures of the blind, was waiting to enlighten me on those two points.
After consultation between us, it had been decided, at Lucilla's express request, that I should inform Mrs.Finch that the mystery at Browndown was now cleared up.

Lucilla openly owned to having no great relish for the society of her step-mother, or for the duty invariably devolving on anybody who was long in the company of that fertile lady, of either finding her handkerchief or holding her baby.