"You said something just now," I observed, with a wish to change the subject, "about compensations for misfortune, and I infer that you have compensations for yours. But it must cause you regret?"
"It does, but I do not fret, I do not take it to heart; I accept the inevitable. The proper use of the higher intelligence with which we are gifted is to reason calmly upon all human and worldly matters which touch us nearly. Those who can thus reason have cause for gratitude; and I have cause. Compensations? Yes, I have them. Difficult to describe, perhaps, because they are spiritual; inspired by faith or self-delusion, which stern materialists declare are one and the same thing."
"Your uncle and I," I said, "were having a discussion upon delusions when you entered."
"In continuation"--he turned to Bob; he seemed to know always where the person he was addressing was standing or sitting--"in continuation of the discussion we were having this afternoon?"
"Yes," said Bob, "and we do not quite agree."
"My uncle is a skeptic," said Ronald, "he does not believe in miracles."
"You do?" I inquired.
"Undoubtedly. It will be a fatal day for the world when faith in miracles is dead. Do not do my uncle an injustice, Mr. Emery; I never heard him speak as he spoke this afternoon when we were discussing this subject, and it almost seemed to me as if he were desirous of arguing against himself. Do you require absolute visible proof before you believe?"
"Not always," I replied, with my eyes on the spectral cat. "I am forced to believe in some things which are not visible to other eyes than mine."
"I do not quite understand you," said Ronald thoughtfully. "It is, at the best, but a half-hearted admission, and, regarding you in the light of a friend, as I do Uncle Bob, I would like to break down the barrier."