--XI--

THE AFTERMATH


"I am cured, Robert! Robert! Robert! See, I too am cured! Oh, Robert,
what wondrous joy!"--Mrs. Thornton had left her wheel-chair and was
standing beside her husband, standing alone, unaided for the first time
in many months.

"Naida!"--it was a hoarse cry from Thornton. Then his hand passed
heavily across his face as though to force his brain to coherent action,
to lift the spell of what seemed a wild phantasm in all around him.
"Naida!"--he sought now to control his voice--"Naida, get back into your
chair again."

She laughed--a little hysterically--but in the laugh too was the uplift
of a soul enraptured.

"But I am cured, Robert. See, dear, can't you understand?" She shook his
arm. "See--I am cured. I can walk just as I could before I was ill. Oh,
Robert, Robert! See! See!"--she went from him, walking a little, running
a little--and laughing in a low, rippling, glorious laugh that was like
the music of silver chimes ringing out in glad acclaim.

He stared at her, both hands now to his temples; then he turned to look
strangely at the empty chair--but it was not empty. Miss Harvey, the
nurse, on her knees, had flung herself across it and, with buried head,
was sobbing unrestrainedly.