When we were quite domesticated I consulted several surgeons, who examined Mr. Gaynor. The limb, they thought, had not been rightly set. They would not say it could be altogether remedied, but that it could be greatly improved, though the process would be tedious, and perhaps take three months.
That time was not discouraging. We had come to the merciful period of anæsthesia, so the conscious suffering was reduced. He decided to undertake it. The prospect of going without a crutch was most tempting.
During that period mother, Ruth and I took various delightful journeys about the environs of Paris. It was in the early days of the third Napoleon and Paris was very brilliant. Many improvements had been made, and my two guests were filled with amazement. There was so much beauty on every hand.
After the first fortnight we were allowed to see Mr. Gaynor. The surgeon admitted that it had been a rather serious case, and the operation would be the means of prolonging his life, which could not have gone on much longer without a fatal issue. I thanked Heaven that I had been so importunate. After ten weeks the patient came home. He was not to give up his crutch immediately, but he could bear some weight on his foot, which would have to be provided with a cork soled shoe, as his leg had shortened somewhat.
I was quite engrossed with Mr. Le Moyne's business until along in the winter. Then we went to Spain, and saw Madrid, Granada and other famous cities; the great fortress at Gibraltar, and crossed the beautiful sea to the Bay of Naples, sojourned a brief while in Florence and Rome, went up into Switzerland, Germany, Holland, then down to Paris again, where I received my fortune. And here Ruth and I were married at the embassy, with many friends to wish us Godspeed. Mr. Gaynor was a very happy man. He limped a little and used a cane, but could get about so easily that he declared he had renewed his youth. Mother was delighted and admitted that she had always coveted Ruth.
Ah! what happy days those were. We went to England and her two tributaries. Mother declared that I kissed the Blarney stone. She had become quite a foreigner.
How would we ever endure Chicago again?
But one evening, as Ruth's head lay on my shoulder, and her sweet mouth just where I could heap kisses upon it, she said:
"Oh, Norman, I would like to go home. And I know father is longing for it. Everything is beautiful, but I want to ramble about the old places. I want to think of the days when I was a little girl and see the spot where I first came to you."
Had she always been mine? It seemed so now. The other life was like a dream.