Is there any Mocha stone, fortification agate, or Scotch pebble, with
half the veins and mottlings, angles, flux and reflux, that chequer one
minute of the human mind? Was ever machine invented to throw so many
shuttles?
At present I am gauged for little threads of thought--two minutes since,
the smallest thing I could think of was myself. Now it is the largest.
Must I grope from room to room, shall I never be sure where the table
is, where my teacup stands; never read, or write, or draw; never tell
when my hands are clean, except by smelling soap; never know (though
small the difference) how my dress becomes me, or when my hair is right;
never see my own sad face, in which I have been fool enough to glory,
never--and this is worst of all--never catch another's smile?
Here am I, a full-grown girl, full of maiden's thoughts and wonderings,
knowing well that I am shaped so but to be a link in life; must I never
think of loving or of being loved, except with love like Isola's; sweet
affection, very sweet; but white sugar only?
When my work is over, and my object gained, when my father's spirit
knows the wrong redeemed, as a child I used to think I would lay me down
and die. But since I came to woman's fulness, since I ceased to look at
men and they began to look at me, some soft change, I know not what, has
come across my dream.
Is my purpose altered? Is my tenor broken? Not a whit of either.
Rather are they stronger set and better led, as my heart and brain
enlarge. Yet I see beyond it all, a thing I never used to see, a glow
above the peaks of hate, a possibility of home. "Saw" I should have
said, for now what have I to do with seeing?
On the fourteenth morning, I had given up all hope. They told me it was
bright and sunny; for I always asked about the weather, and felt most
cruelly depressed upon a sunny day. By this time I had learned to dress
without Mrs. Shelfer's aid. Still, from force of habit I went to the
glass to do my hair, and still drew back, as far as was allowed, the
window curtain.
Off with my wet bandage, I am sick of it; let me try no longer to delude
myself.
Suddenly a gleam of light, I am sure of it; faint indeed, and like a
Will of the Wisp; but I am quite sure it was a gleam of light. I go
nearer the window and try again. No, there is no more for the present,
it was the sudden change produced it. Never mind; I know what I have
seen, a thing that came and cheated me in dreams; this time it has not
cheated me; it was a genuine twinkle of the sun.
I can do nothing more. I cannot put another stitch upon me. I am
thrilling with the sun, like Memnon. I fall upon my knees, and thank
the Father of light.
When the Doctor came that day, and looked into my eyes, he saw a decided
change.
"Miss Valence, the crisis is over. With all my heart I congratulate
you. Another fortnight, and you will see better than ever."
I laughed, and wept, and, blind as I was, could hardly keep from
dancing. Then I wanted to kiss the Doctor, but hearing Mrs. Shelfer's
step, made a reckless jump and had it out upon her.
"Bless me, why bless me, my good soul, if I was a young gentleman now--"
"Why, Miss Valence, I am perfectly astonished," said Doctor Franks, but
I knew he was laughing; "if I had been requested, only two minutes ago,
to pick out the most self-possessed, equable, and courageous young lady
in London, I should have said, 'I don't want any looking, I know where
to find her,' but now, upon my word--"
"If you are asked to point out the most delighted, grateful, and happy
girl in London, you know where to come for her. Let me kiss you, Dr.
Franks, only once. I won't rob your daughters. It is to you I owe it
all."
"No, to Providence, and yourself, and an uncommonly good conjunctiva.
Now be prudent, my dear child; a little ecstasy must be forgiven; but
don't imperil your cure by over-excitement. It is, as I hoped it would
be, a case of epiphytic sloughing" (I think that was what he said), "and
it may become chronic if precipitated. The longer and more thorough the
process, the less chance of recurrence."
"Oh I am satisfied with one eye, or half an eye. Can you promise me
that?"
"If you will only follow my directions, I can promise you both eyes,
more brilliant than ever; and Mrs. Shelfer says they were wonderfully
bright. But what I order must be done. Slow and sure."
He gave me short directions, all upon the same principle, that of
graduation.
"And now, Miss Valence, good-bye. Henceforth I visit you only as a
friend; in which I know you will indulge me, from the interest I feel in
the case, and in yourself. Mrs. Shelfer's wonderful young lady may be
admitted on Thursday; but don't let her look at your eyes. Girls are
always inquisitive. If there is any young gentleman, lucky enough to
explain your strange anxiety to see, you will make short work of him,
when your sight returns. Your eyes will be the most brilliant in
London; which is saying a great deal. But I fear he will hardly know
you, till your lashes grow; and all your face and expression are altered
for the time."
"One thing will never alter, though it can find no expression, my
gratitude to you."
"That is very pretty of you, my dear child. You kissed me just now.
Now let me kiss you."
He touched my forehead and was gone. He was the first true gentleman I
had met with, since the loss of Farmer Huxtable.