"No, a better word is needed in this case. Woman's fine sympathy and
instinct are too perfect to be called after any masculine term wholly
human."
"You can pay nice compliments," I said, laughing. He bowed his head
gravely--a very fine and shapely head I noticed it was too, set well on
a neck and shoulders that betokened the trained athlete.
"Now, doctor, Miss Selwyn can't generally stay loitering very long among
us Mill Roaders, and p'raps we'd better get our business done up right
away. Anyway if Mr. Bowen is anything like me, he's getting fidgetty by
this time to know if he's likely to get to them big city doctors."
"I have grown too intimate with patience to be so easily disturbed," he
said, gently.
"You would like to get your sight?" I questioned. He spoke so calmly, the
thought occurred he might have grown to love the hush of darkness. His
face flushed. I never knew before or since a person of his years who
colored so easily.
"Only God can know how I have longed to see the light, and the face of my
fellow man; but I had no hope until Death opened my eyes."
His voice trembled with emotion.
"What a privilege to give that man his sight," I murmured to the doctor.
"The privilege belongs to you, I believe."
"Oh, no indeed. I was thinking of the skill of your profession. It seems
almost God-like."
"We do our work mainly for money. In this case I am told you supply
that."
Mrs. Blake was waiting impatiently.
"What is to be done? Can Mr. Bowen go immediately?" I asked.
"To-morrow, if he is ready. I have already written to the doctor who will
take charge of his case. He is famous for diseases of the eye, especially
cataract, which is the trouble here."
"He will need some one to accompany him?" I asked anxiously. "This seemed
the chief difficulty now."
"Not necessarily. The conductor is a kind-hearted fellow, and would see
to him. But a friend of mine is going to-morrow, and he will not leave
him until he sees him safe in the hospital."
"Could he be ready so soon?" I turned with my question to Mrs. Blake.
"I've got everything ready only just to pack in a valise--fine shirts and
all, we've sat up till after midnight making fine shirts and things, me
and two other women."
"And you dare to say after that that it is I who must have the credit of
this?" I turned a look of reproach on the doctor, as I spoke the words so
low, only he could hear them.
"Am I really going to-morrow?"--Mr. Bowen asked, his face turning deathly
pale,--"possibly to come back to see all your faces? Miss Selwyn, I hope
you will look to me as I have always pictured you."
"I think she will not disappoint your expectations," the doctor said,
gallantly.
"I dunno about that. I guess he most looks to see an angel," Mrs. Blake
remarked dryly. In the ripple of laughter that followed, I turned to
little Freddie who was crying softly with his face hidden in a chair.
"What is the matter, my little man?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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