She spoke quite volubly. The doctor understood the nervous tension thus suddenly relaxed. She scarcely knew what she was saying. Then she recollected herself, smiled—the smile mounting to her eyes—for the first time for many weeks, and modestly took her leave.
The doctor himself escorted her to his door, the watchful attendant saying to himself, “There ain’t a many ladies, be they whom they may, for whom the master does that.”
The physician returned to his study, thoughtful. He said to himself, “I wonder how they are to manage this? Challoner has said enough to me to show how necessary he felt a speedy return to business to be! I suppose she is going to work some sort of little human miracle. How she lighted up! I wish I could find such a miracle to be worked by some of my lady patients, if it would waken them up thus. But I suppose each of us must find his or her own miracles. They cost too much for any of us to be able to get them for each other.”
Mrs. Challoner turned eastward with flying feet. Her one thought now was, that at any cost this thing must be done. She felt herself like a frail little ship which has but to get the wind behind it to speedily reach its desired haven. Only she had got to steer it! If it were wrecked, the fault would lie with her, and with her only. It is something to have ever gone through such an hour of glorious life. Henceforth, come what may, we know the secret of the faith which “can remove mountains.” We know too that the great will of the universe is with all things good and glad and hopeful, though we may fail to set our little vessels where they can catch its current, or though they may come to disaster on other vessels already foundered.
Still, she had another visit to make ere she went back to the little house with the verandah.
This time she paused at a great house in one of the more important Bloomsbury squares. On its portal it bore the sign of “St. George’s Institute of Arts and Languages.”
She was admitted with smiles, for of old she had been familiar there. She stayed inside fully half an hour. When she came out her face was not less glad, but it was grave and set, as that of a sailor whose hand is already on the wheel.
She had one more interruption of her homeward journey. She was not far from Pelham Street, when she was suddenly greeted by a short, plump lady richly dressed.
“Why, Lucy, you are so absorbed that I believe you would have passed me, your very own sister!” cried the stranger.
They shook hands heartily.