Only the eye of God saw that battle, the hardest that was
fought and won during the war.
At last, when well out of the city, he lifted his agonized eyes
and saw the beautiful hues of morning tingeing the east.
Unconsciously, he repeated the sublime, creative words, "Let there
be light." It came to him. With the vanishing darkness, he
revolted finally against the thought of any shadows existing
between him and Helen. She should have all the light that he had,
and decide her own course. He had little hope that she would wed
him, even if she did not marry Nichol in his present condition--a
condition probably only temporary and amenable to skilful
treatment.
Wearily he dragged his lame foot back to a hotel in the populous
party of the city, and obtained food and wine, for he was terribly
exhausted. Next he telegraphed Mr. Kemble:
"Arrived last evening. The wedding will have to be postponed. Will
explain later."
"It's the best I can do now," he muttered. "Helen will think it is
all due to my cousin's illness." Then he returned to the hospital
and found his relative in a state of wonderment at his absence,
but refreshed from a good night's rest.
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