In another corner Everard talked in low tones with the two physicians who were to remain that night, Mr. Cameron taking cognizance, in the midst of his own sorrowful thoughts, of every word.
At length some one called for a light, and a moment later, Mr. Cameron was conscious of a light step crossing the room, and of a lamp being placed on the table near the physicians, though none of its rays fell in the direction of the sufferer. Lifting his head, he saw the lamp with a screen so attached as to throw a shade over almost the entire room, leaving only a small portion lighted; but within that brightly illumined portion he had a glimpse, for an instant, of a face, which with its radiant eyes and its shining aureole of golden hair, was so nearly a counterpart of the one but just recalled so vividly to his mind, that it seemed a living reproduction of the same. Only a glimpse, for as he started, wondering if it could be a figment of his own imagination, the face suddenly vanished into the shadow, and the figure glided from the room. Still it haunted him; could there have been a real resemblance? or was it only a hallucination of his own?
About an hour later, Houston, who had observed his uncle’s involuntary start of surprise on seeing Lyle, and who was anxious that he should learn the truth as early as possible, slipping his arm within that of his uncle’s, led him out upon the porch, where they lighted their cigars, smoking for a few moments in silence, then talking together in low tones of the one so dear to each of them, while Houston related the details of his first meeting and early acquaintance with the miner, Jack.
“Even if Guy cannot recover,” said Mr. Cameron, in tremulous tones, when Houston had finished, “Yet if he lives long enough to see and recognize his mother and myself, and realize our feeling for him––even then, I shall be more than repaid for your coming out here,––though all else were lost.”
“Indeed you would,” responded Houston, “but I cannot help feeling that Guy’s life will be spared, that he will live to bless your future years. But my dear uncle,” he continued, very slowly, “although you are yet unaware of it, you have nearly as much, if not an equal cause for joy in another direction.”
“I do not understand you, Everard; you surely do not allude to the property?”
“No, very far from that; did you notice the young girl who came into Guy’s room to-night?”
“To bring the light?”
“The same.”
“Yes, and I intended to inquire of you concerning her. Her face impressed me strangely; I cannot tell whether it was a fact or my own imagination, but I had been thinking of the children,––Guy and his sister,––as they were years ago, and it seemed to me that her face, as I saw it for an instant, was almost an exact counterpart of my own Edna’s, as she used to look, even to the hair and eyes which were very peculiar.”