35. XXXV.
A STRANGE COMFORTER.
To return, for a moment, to the preceding
night. Innis had walked the
street wildly for an hour after his interview
with Honoria. Then, without consciousness
of the fact, he bent his way
toward his lodgings, entered, ascended
the narrow stairs, and found himself in
his chamber, where the dying embers
scarce revealed the outlines of the furniture.
He fell into a seat, uttered a groan,
and covered his face with his hands.
“I was sure of it!” muttered a voice
on the opposite side of the fireplace.
“Who will say hereafter that penetration
is not one of my qualities!”
Innis started, and looked in the direction
of the voice.
“Oh, it's only your friend Vandyke,”
said the eccentric, who was sprawled as
usual in a capacious chair. “I have only
been awaiting you an hour and a half.
Your old servant told me where you had
gone, and I knew what the result of your
visit would be. So the bonny bird is going
to flit from you at last?”
“Spare me!” groaned Innis. “I am
wellnigh heart-broken, and cannot speak
of this.”
“Let us speak of something else, then.
Have you seen Meta?”
“No.”
“She is cured.”
And the doctor kicked together the
brands in the fireplace with his huge foot,
and produced a blaze.
“Let us talk a little by firelight—'tis
the best to talk by,” he said, composedly.
“Yes, Meta is cured.”
“You have not performed—”
“My operation? Yes. Three weeks
since—without difficulty, without pain!
—and the child is convalescent—more,
sane! SANE! SANE—I tell you!”
As he uttered the words, “sane, sane,
sane,” Dr. Vandyke's voice rose steadily
in loud and sonorous accents, until the
latter word was nearly shouted aloud.
“Yes, my young friend,” he added,
“after our last interview I sought Colonel
Brand and Lady Brand immediately
—proposed to perform the operation—
conquered their scruples—administered
my elixir vitœ to the child—removed the
fragment of bone thrust by her fall upon
her brain; and now she smiles, hears,
understands, and babbles! — babbles, I
say, for speech slowly returns. But, it
will return—nay, it has!—and you will
find as much.”
The words were uttered with a
strange, wistful, mysterious significance.
One would have said that this man was
in possession of some secret which he
longed to reveal, but was prevented by
circumstances from disclosing.
In a moment, Innis lost sight of his
own misfortunes, thinking of Meta.
“Cured—sane!” he said; “is it possible,
sir? I confess I had no faith in any
such miracle.”
“There are no miracles,” said Dr.
Vandyke, “save those of the Holy Scriptures.
A miracle is the violation by the
Supreme Law-giver of His own law—as
when Lazarus rose at the command of
the Son of God. Else the seasons, the
course of the stars, the growth of the
acorn, were miracles. Nor is this cure
of a poor human being, under the sealpel,
more of a miracle than these. The
obstacle to the operation was there, and
was removed. Science moves and acts
under the fiat of the Supreme Power.
The child is sane—she laughs and weeps,
and I heard her praying!”—the words
were uttered proudly, triumphantly —
“and without pain!” added the physician.
“Absolutely?” said Innis.
“She did not move! When the operation
was over, she murmured, in a low
voice, `That is my oriole singing in the
tree!”'
Innis listened with astonishment.
“And she speaks distinctly?”
“Not perfectly. Long disuse of the
lingual muscles is the only obstacle. And
now that I have told you of Meta, tell
me of yourself.”
“I have naught to tell you, doctor,”
said Innis, in a voice of utter despair.
“Your words, a few moments since, indicated
a knowledge of my most private
affairs—of my very great distress—spare
me, then, the grief of referring to it.”
“So be it,” said he; “but will you
receive advice from a very old man, who
has suffered much?”
“Advice?”
“Counsel, based upon experience.”
“Most willingly.”
“Then I sum up my advice to you in
a single word—wait.”
“Wait, for what?”
“For that which the future will bring
forth. I do not say that it will bring
forth happiness—it may produce misery.
But—wait. Take no trouble on trust.
The cloud is dark often when the sun is
about to shine. There are no miracles,
but there are strange events in the histories
of human lives; and 'twas to say
this that I came to-night, through cold
and storm—and I was going to wait, if
necessary until daylight, for your return.”
Having uttered these mysterious
words, the physician seized Innis's
hand, squeezed it with the force of a
giant, dashed his hat upon his head, and
disappeared from the apartment.
