But Rosalie neither shook her head nor nodded. She only looked up at him with no other expression in her eyes except dumb entreaty. “Come to the light,” said he, “and try to look less ghostly. After all, if you can’t be cured you can’t. You’re brave enough to stand that, aren’t you?” Again she nodded, still looking at him. He pushed the shade of the lamp up. “Now open your mouth,” he said. Obediently Rosalie did as she was told. “Why, you’ve got a tongue!” said he, bending his brows, and stooping down to her. “Can’t you move it?” But Rosalie could not. It was complete paralysis of the muscles evidently. “Come with me, and I’ll see what I can do.” He led her through the other door into another room. The walls of this place were lined with chests and cupboards with glass fronts, containing curious instruments. In the centre was a long table. The room was also fitted up with chairs such as dentists use, and a marble washing basin fitted with water pipes, hot and cold. Yet when the light was turned on the general effect was cheerful. Rosalie found it so, at any rate, for renewed hope was springing in her heart. She sat down upon the chair he drew for her, and watched him whilst he went to the cupboard and brought out something shaped like a very long darning needle. It was thick at one end, very fine and pointed at the other. Then from another shelf containing flasks of glass polished and cut he took a liquid shining like silver, and poured some into a tiny crucible. With these he came back to her and placed them on the table. Then he looked at her, smiling. “This will hurt you very much,” he said; “but you asked for it, so you will have to go through with it.” Anyone but Rosalie would have noticed that the expression of his face was not particularly kind. But she noticed nothing. She leant back against the head-rest; he placed his hand upon her eyes. After that they were too heavy for her to open them. She opened her mouth instead. It was a curious kind of pain, if pain it could be called. Never in the whole of her life had she ever felt anything so soothing. She could not tell how long the sensation lasted, but it ceased very suddenly. Then although her eyes were closed she felt (this was the curious part of it) a strong light shining into her mouth, right back to the roots of that so far silent tongue. It was a light that had the power to heal and strengthen, and for a long, long time it played upon every unused nerve and delicate muscle. At last all was over; the master laid his hand upon her eyes again and opened them. “Now,” said he, “the miracle has been performed. Are you satisfied?” From long custom Rosalie nodded. “You must speak,” he answered, laughing, “if but to show your appreciation of the gift.” “Thank you,” she said, quite perfectly, with just a little break in the word that took nothing from its sweetness. “Did you find the pain very bad?” “I nev-er felt it.” “Never felt it?” he repeated. “Give me your hand.”