“She will get well, I think,” answered the specialist. “The crisis is past. The spine was not injured. But convalescence will be slow. Nursing is the only thing left to do now. I am leaving for New York by the six o’clock train.”
Caleb’s apathetic look slowly changed to deep, growing wonder.
“I think,” went on Dr. Colfax, watching Conover, narrowly, “it may be barely possible that you can thank yourself for her recovery. Perhaps I am mistaken. You see we doctors deal with facts. But, once in a century something happens outside the realm of fact. Mind you, I don’t go on record as saying this is one of those exceptions. But—I should like to ask you some questions when you are rested enough to—”
“By and by,” assented Caleb. “But I’m going in there to see Dey now, if you don’t mind. Can I?”
“Yes. She has been asking for you. Be careful not to excite her, or—”
“I’ll be careful,” promised Caleb.
Then, with a sheepish laugh, he added:
“I’m glad you didn’t make me put up a fight about goin’ in to see her. I—I kind of feel as if there wasn’t any fight left in me.”
THE END
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