Inward drew the ends of the line of paroxysm-stricken people--not far, not near to that hallowed group for something held them back; but inward gradually until the line, no longer straight, was half a circle, crescent shaped. Louder came that harrowing medley of sounds, its component parts voicing the uttermost depths of the soul of each separate individual man and woman there--some moaned in terror; some prayed, mumbling, still upon their knees; some laughed hoarsely, wildly, their senses for the moment gone; and some were dumb; and some shrieked their prayers in frenzy. Louder it grew--the end had come--that deformed thing stood erect, a perfect man--he turned his face toward them--he stretched out his arms--and they answered him with their wails, their sobs, their moans, their cries--they answered him in their terror, in their shaken senses, clutching at each other again--answered him from their knees, their voices hoarse--answered him with trembling lips and tongues that would not move. And then suddenly, as though riven where they stood and kneeled and crouched, all movement ceased--and every heart stood still as ringing clear above all else, shocking all else to stunned, petrified silence, there came a cry--a cry in a young voice. It rang again and again, trembling with glad, new life, vibrant, a cry that seemed to thrill with chords of happiness and ecstasy immeasurable. Again it came, again, exultant, pulsing with a mighty joy--young Holmes had _flung his crutch from him_, and, with outstretched arms, was running toward the Patriarch across the lawn. For an instant more that stunned, awed silence held. All eyes were riveted and fixed upon the scene--none looked at Madison--if any had they would have seen that his face had gone an ivory white. --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.