"Don't you understand?" she cried, half laughing, half sobbing. "There
is no 'yet'--I am cured, dear--_all_ cured. I'm well and strong. Try to
understand, Robert--oh, I'm so happy, so--so thankful. I know it's
miraculous, that it's almost impossible to believe--but try to
understand."

"I am trying to," said Thornton numbly, watching her as she moved about.
"And it seems as though I were in a dream--that this isn't real--that
you're not real."

"It's not a dream," she said. "Oh, I'm so strong again. Why, Robert, it
would be just as absurd for me to be wheeled back in that chair as for
you to be--and besides I have no right to do that now. It would be a
sacrilege, profaning the gratitude in my heart--I am cured and these
poor people here must see that I am cured--Robert, we must leave that
wheel-chair here that others, poor sufferers who will come now, will see
and believe and be cured too. And, Robert, in some way, I do not know
just how, we who are rich must do something to help people to get here."

"Naida," said Thornton, his voice low, shaken, "I feel as though I were
in another world. I have seen what I can hardly make myself believe that
I have seen. I can't explain--I am speaking, but my very voice seems
strange to me. I feel as you do about helping others--how could I feel
otherwise? What we could do I do not know as yet, either--but I will do
anything. I was a scoffing fool--and you were cured before my eyes--a
boy was cured--and that other, deformed as no creature was ever deformed
before, was cured"--Thornton's lips quivered, and he hid his face in his
hands.