The Last Miracle

by M. P. Shiel

I knew the house to which he pointed: it is called Dale Manor, and was then the home of two old maids whom I had long known as "Miss Jane" and "Miss Lizzie" (Chambers), for they were visitors at Swandale. How Baron Kolár had come to know them, why he was there, I couldn't guess; but, in good nature to Mr Edwards, I walked down three very steep fields, then down two lanes, to Dale Manor, in order to tell the baron that he was being sought.

This Dale Manor, certainly, was a very charming home. I pulled the bell-chain at the wall which surrounds the place, and, on being let in, caught sight of Miss Jane pacing, with gloves and scissors, among her flowers. I think that the sun had already set, and the scene in there was all one of bowery shades and peace and well-being. Miss Jane, I suppose, thought that I had come on a visit, and after asking some questions about the Langlers and the miracle invited me in. I then asked if Baron Kolár was in the house, to which she replied, with a smile: "yes—fast asleep."

"Asleep!"

"Sh-h-h!" she whispered, "he is just under that window there: my sister is watching over him; it must be nearly time for me to relieve her...."

I was too astonished to speak! My knowledge of the manner of life of these ladies, its English primness and reclusion, made all the keener my feeling of the oddity here, for certainly they would have consented to take turns in watching over the slumbers of no other male person, and I thought to myself: "well! such miracles are wrought by great men."

"I didn't know that you even knew the baron," I said at last.

"We have known him for five afternoons," answered Miss Jane in a hushed, but animated, manner—"since last Thursday! In passing by the Manor he fell in love with it, and rang the gate-bell. I happened to be in the gardens, and, being naturally startled, contrived to send for my sister, who after examining him through the spyglass from a window came down to us. It was so embarrassing at first! we had no notion what to make of the man suddenly sprung upon us, with his great satin jacket and stream of talk, we couldn't, of course, know who he might be, for it was only after a long while that he let out that he was staying at Goodford. He led us round the grounds, criticising and admiring everything, then had the head gardener brought to suggest certain changes to him—and there is no doubt that he must be a past master of horticulture, forestry, and landscape gardening, you know—then he said that he was tired and thirsty, and had a headache, so we had finally to decide to ask him in."

"It must have been an event!"

"Well, we were certainly put out," answered Miss Jane, "and poor Lizzie has been taking lavender-water; for Barons Kolár do not grow on every bush, and it all came upon us like any thunderclap. He sat by that window in the drawing-room, talking, talking in his long-drawn way, and looking sleepy, while Lizzie and I glanced at each other, wondering what next, for my sister and I of course know what each other is thinking without needing to speak. Now, as it happened, Fanny, our between-maid, was ill, and Lizzie had been making some special milk-toast for her, so it occurred to Lizzie to give him some of it, with tea; she had made quite a pile, and never dreamt—anyway, it was brought in. Well, he began to eat languidly, but he kept on eating and talking, and, Mr Templeton, he ate up every scrap—yes, every scrap."

"Poor Fanny!"