Whether accidentally or intentionally, several chairs were in her way as she passed to the instrument. She avoided them with perfect confidence, scarcely brushing them with the folds of her white satin dress.

"She is cured! She is no longer blind!" murmured the spectators; and with renewed curiosity, they watched her every motion.

There were three people within the concert-room upon whom these murmurs produced profound and dissimilar impressions. Barth frowned angrily; Von Paradies grew paler and trembled like a coward as he was; while Mesmer, who leaned against a pillar, fixed his eyes upon Therese with a glance of supreme happiness. Therese returned the glance with one of such deep trust and love, that no one who saw it could doubt her power of vision.

The audience burst out into one simultaneous storm of applause, and this reminded the young girl that she was not alone with her "master." She raised her eyes for the first time toward the spectators, and met every glance directed toward herself.

The sight of this sea of upturned faces so terrified the poor child, that she felt faint and dizzy. She groped about with her hands, to find a seat, for she could scarcely stand.

The action attracted universal attention. A significant look passed between Von Paradies and Barth, while Mesmer's brow darkened, and his face flushed with disappointment. It was very unfortunate--that faintness of Therese. She stood irresolute and alone, unable to advance, and too weak to see the chair that stood close at hand.

For some time, the audience surveyed her with breathless interest.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a voice in the crowd:

"Will no one take pity upon the girl and lead her to the harpsichord? Do you not see that she is as blind as ever?"

Therese recovered herself when she heard these insulting words, and her eyes flashed strangely for eyes that could not see.

"I am not blind!" cried she, in a clear, firm voice, and as if the sneer had restored her strength and self-possession, she came forward at once, and took her seat.

The audience applauded a second time, and Therese bowed and smiled.

While she drew off her gloves, she looked back at Mesmer, who returned the glance with one of affectionate pride.

Scarcely knowing what she did, Therese began to play. She kept her eyes fixed upon Mesmer, and as she felt the power of his magnetic glance, she soared into heights of harmony that ravished the ears of her listeners, and left all her previous performances far behind.

She ended with a sigh, as though awaking from some heavenly dream. Never had she been so enthusiastically applauded as now. This time it was not her vision, but her incomparable skill which had elicited the acclamations of the public; and Therese, happy in her success, bowed, and smiled again upon her admirers.

And now the artistic exhibition was at an end. Herr von Paradies, advancing, informed the public that they would now proceed to test the genuineness of his daughter's cure. He then came to the edge of the platform, and spoke in a loud, distinct voice: "I request the distinguished company, who have brought books or music for the purpose, to hand them to me, that we may discover whether in truth she sees, or imagines that she sees. I beg so much the more for your attention, ladies and gentlemen," continued he, in a faltering voice, "that this night is to decide a fearful doubt in my own mind. Doctor Mesmer affirms that my daughter's vision has been restored. I, alas! believe that she is yet blind!"

The audience expressed astonishment; Therese uttered a cry of horror, and turned to Mesmer, who, pale and stunned by the shock of her father's cruel words, had lost all power to come to the poor child's assistance.

Barth was laughing behind his pocket-handkerchief. "The remedy works,"

whispered he to Ingenhaus--"the remedy works."

Two gentlemen arose. One handed a book, the other a sheet of music. As Von Paradies turned the book over to his daughter, she gave him a reproachful look. She opened it and read: "Emilia Galotti, by Gotthold Ephraim Lessing."

"And, now," continued she, "if one of the ladies present will select a passage, and another will look over me as I read, the audience can thus convince themselves that I see."

One of the most distinguished ladies in Vienna approached Therese and stood close by her side, while another, a celebrated actress, requested her to open the book at page 71.

Therese turned over the leaves and found the place.

"That is right, my love," said the countess. "Now read."

Therese began to read, and when she ended, the excitement of the people knew no bounds.

"She sees! She sees!" cried the people. "Who can doubt it?"

And now from the crowd arose a voice:

"We have enough proof. The fact is self-evident, and we may all congratulate the fraulein upon the recovery of her sight. Let us have more of her delightful music."

"I am sorry that I cannot agree with Doctor Mesmer's invisible patron,"

said Von Paradies. "I strive to forget that I am her father, and place myself on the side of the incredulous public, who have a right to demand whether indeed the days of miracles have returned."

"My remedy does wonders," said Barth to the faculty.

Herr von Paradies continued: "This being the case, it is easier for us to suppose that the distinguished actress, who selected the page, has been requested to do so, than to believe that my daughter has seen the words just read; for this lady is known to be a follower of Doctor Mesmer. Perhaps the countess did not remark that the corner of the leaf is slightly turned down."

He took the book and passed the leaves rapidly over his thumb.

"Here it is," said he, holding it up.

"Father!" exclaimed Therese, indignantly, "I saw you turn the leaf a few minutes ago with your own hand."

"SAW" cried Von Paradies, raising his hands. Then turning to the audience, he continued: "As regards this book, it was handed to me just now by Baron von Horka, one of Mesmer's most devoted adherents. He may have been commissioned to select this particular work, and Therese may be aware of it. If I am thus stringent in my acceptance of the evidence in this case, it is because I long to possess the sweet assurance of my dear child's complete cure."

"Hear him," laughed Barth, touching Ingenhaus on the elbow.

Therese, meanwhile, was growing embarrassed; and, looking to Mesmer for encouragement she lost sight of every thing under the influence of his eyes. Her father held the paper before her, but she was not aware of it.

The audience whispered, but Mesmer at that moment, turning away from Therese, she sighed, and, recovering her self-possession, took the paper and placed it before the harpsichord.

"March, from 'OEdipus,'" said she, seating herself before the instrument.

"Why, Therese," cried her father, "you read the title without turning to the title-page."

"I saw the piece when it was handed to you by Ritter Gluck."

"You are acquainted with Gluck?" asked Von Paradies. "He has never been to our house."

"I have seen him at Doctor Mesmer's," replied Therese.

"Ah, indeed! Ritter Gluck, who hands the music, is like Baron von Horka, who brought the book, a friend of Mesmer's," said Von Paradies, with a sneer that affrighted his daughter and made her tremble.

But she placed her hands upon the keys and began to play.

The enraptured audience again forgot her eyes, and, entranced by the music, hung breathless upon her notes, while she executed the magnificent funeral march in "OEdipus." Suddenly, at the conclusion of a passage of exquisite beauty, she ceased, and her hands wandered feebly over the keys, Her father, who was turning the leaves, looked almost scornfully at the poor girl; who, alarmed and bewildered by his unaccountable conduct, grew deadly pale, and finally, with a deep sigh, closed her eyes.

After a few moments she began again. From her agile fingers dropped showers of pearly notes, while, through all the fanciful combinations of sound, was beard the solemn and majestic chant of the funeral march. The audience could scarcely contain their raptures; and yet they dared not applaud for fear of losing a note.

She seemed to be astray in a wilderness of harmony, when her father, with an impatient gesture, laid his hands upon her fingers and held them down.

"You are no longer playing by note!" exclaimed he, with affected surprise. "You are giving us voluntaries from 'Orpheus,' instead of the funeral march. I appeal to the public to say whether my daughter is playing the funeral march?"

There was a pause, then a voice, tremulous with emotion, said, "No, it is no longer the funeral march; it is now a beautiful arrangement from 'Orpheus.'"

Herr von Paradies, with an expression of profoundest anguish, threw his arm around his daughter, exclaiming, "Oh, my beloved child, it is then as I feared! We have been deceived, and you are blind for life."

"Father!" screamed Therese, flinging him off; "father, you know--"