“I don’t believe it!” said my mother, “it’s some nonsensical mistake.”  Clara looked a little pale, and I laughed.

We watched her carefully through the day.  Her eyes remained tightly closed.  She understood all that was said to her, answered correctly, but did, not seem inclined to talk.  She went about her work as usual, and performed it without a mistake.  It could not be seen that she groped at all with her hands to feel her way, as is the case with the blind.  On the contrary, she touched everything with her usual decision.  It was impossible to believe, without seeing them, that her eyes were closed.

We tied a handkerchief tightly over them; see through it or below it she could not, if she had tried.  We then sent her into the parlor, with orders to bring from the book-case two Bibles which had been given as prizes to Clara and me at school, when we were children.  The books were of precisely the same size, color, and texture.  Our names in gilt letters were printed upon the binding.  We followed her in, and watched her narrowly.  She went directly to the book-case, laid her hands upon the books at once, and brought them to my mother.  Mother changed them from hand to hand several times, and turned them with the gilt lettering downwards upon her lap.

“Now, Selphar, which is Miss Sarah’s?”

The girl quietly took mine up.  The experiment was repeated and varied again and again.  In every case the result was the same.  She made no mistake.  It was no guess-work.  All this was done with the bandage tightly drawn about her eyes. She did not see those letters with them.

That evening we were sitting quietly in the dining-room.  Selphar sat a little apart with her sewing, her eyes still closed.  We kept her with us, and kept her in sight.  The parlor, which was a long room, was between us and the front of the house.  The distance was so great that we had often thought, if prowlers were to come around at night, how impossible it would be to hear them.  The curtains and shutters were closely drawn.  Sel was sitting by the fire.  Suddenly she turned pale, dropped her sewing, and sprang from her chair.

“Robbers, robbers!” she cried.  “Don’t you see? they’re getting in the east parlor window!  There’s three of ’em, and a lantern.  They’ve just opened the window,—­hurry, hurry!”

“I believe the girl is insane,” said mother, decidedly.  Nevertheless, she put out the light, opened the parlor door noiselessly, and went in.

The east window was open.  There was a quick vision of three men and a dark lantern.  Then Clara screamed, and it disappeared.  We went to the window, and saw the men running down the street.  The snow the next morning was found trodden down under the window, and their footprints were traced out to the road.

When we went back to the other room, Selphar was standing in the middle of it, a puzzled, frightened look on her face, her eyes wide open.