Clara Vaughan, Volume 2 (of 3)
Page 5
CHAPTER III.
Low fever followed the long prostration to which the fear of outerdarkness had reduced my jaded nerves. This fever probably redeemed mysight, by generalizing the local inflammation, to which object thedoctor's efforts had been directed. Tossing on my weary bed, without aglimpse of anything, how I longed for the soft caresses and cool lips ofIsola! But since that one visit, she had been sternly excluded. TheProfessor had no chance of delivering his therapeutic lecture. In facthe did not come. "Once for all," said Dr. Franks, when he heard of thatproposal, "choose, Miss Valence, between my services, and the maunderingof some pansophist. If you prefer the former, I will do my utmost, andcan almost promise you success; but I must and will be obeyed. Noneshall enter your room, except Mrs. Shelfer and myself. As to yourlovely friend, of whom Mrs. Shelfer is so full, if she truly loves you,she will keep away. She has done you already more harm than I can undoin a week. I am deeply interested in this case, and feel for yousincerely; but unless you promise me to see--I mean to receive--no onewithout my permission, I will come no more."
It sounded very hard, but I felt that he was right.
"No crying, my dear child, no crying! Dear me, I have heard so much ofyour courage. Too much inflammation already. Whatever you do, you mustnot cry. That is one reason why I will not have your friend here. Whentwo young ladies get together in trouble, I know by my own daughterswhat they do. You may laugh as much as you like, in a quiet way; and Iam sure Mrs. Shelfer can make any one laugh, under almost anycircumstances. Can't you now?"
"To be sure, my good friend, I have seen such a many rogues. That is,when I know Charley's a-coming home."
"Now good bye, Miss Valence. But I would recommend you not to play withyour paints so. There is an effluvium from them."
"Oh, what can I do, what am I to do to pass the endless night? I wasonly trying to build a house in the dark."
"Sleep as much as you can. I am giving you gentle opiates. When youcan sleep no longer, let Mrs. Shelfer talk or read to you, and have alittle music. I will lend you my musical box, which plays twenty-fourtunes: have it in the next room, not to be too loud. And then play onthe musical glasses, not too long at a time: you will soon find out howto do that in the dark."
He most kindly sent us both the boxes that very day; and many a wearyhour they lightened of its load. Poor Isola came every day to inquire,and several times she had her brother with her. She made an entireconquest of Mrs. Shelfer, who even gave her a choice canary bird. I wasnever tired of hearing the little woman's description of her beauty, andher visit to the kitchen formed the chief event of the day. Mrs.Shelfer (who had Irish blood in her veins) used to declare that theground was not good enough for them to walk on.
"Such a pair, Miss! To see her so light, and soft, and loving, trippingalong, and such eyes and such fur; and him walking so straight, andbrave, and noble. I am sure you'd go a mile, Miss, to see him walk."
"You forget, Mrs. Shelfer, I may never enjoy that pleasure."
"No, no. Quite true, my good friend. But then we may, all the same."
Exactly so. There lay all the difference to me, but none to any other.This set me moralising in my shallow way, a thing by no means natural tome, who was so concentrated and subjective. But loss of sight had doneme good, had turned the mind's eye inward into the darkness of myself.I think the blind, as a general rule, are less narrow-minded than thoseendowed with sight. Less inclined, I mean, to judge their neighboursharshly, less arrogant in exacting that every pulse keep time with theirown. If eyes are but the chinks through which we focus on our braincensoriousness and bigotry, if rays of light are shafts and lances ofill will; then better is it to have no crystalline lens. Far better tobe blind, than print the world-distorted puppets of myself. I, thatsmallest speck of dust, blown upon the shore of time, blown off when mypuff shall come; a speck ignored by moon and stars; too small (howevermy ambition leap) for earth to itch, whate'er I suck; and yet a speckthat is a mountain in the telescope of God; shall I never learn that Hisis my only magnitude; shall I wriggle to be all in all to my owncorpuscle?