“The supernatural presides over man’s formation always,” returned Reuel, quietly. “Life is that evidence of supernatural endowment which originally entered nature during the formation of the units for the evolution of man. Perhaps the superstitious masses came nearer to solving the mysteries of creation than the favored elect will ever come. Be that as it may, I will not contend. I will proceed with the demonstration.”

There radiated from the speaker the potent presence of a truthful mind, a pure, unselfish nature, and that inborn dignity which repels the shafts of lower minds as ocean’s waves absorb the drops of rain. Something like respect mingled with awe hushed the sneers, changing them into admiration as he calmly proceeded to administer the so-called life-giving powder. Each man’s watch was in his hand; one minute passed—another—and still another. The body remained inanimate.

A cold smile of triumph began to dawn on the faces of the older members of the profession, but it vanished in its incipiency, for a tremor plainly passed over the rigid form before them. Another second—another convulsive movement of the chest!

“She moves!” cried Aubrey at last, carried out of himself by the strain on his nerves. “Look, gentlemen, she breathes! She is alive; Briggs is right! Wonderful! Wonderful!”

“We said there could not be another miracle, and here it is!” exclaimed Dr. Hamilton with strong emotion.

Five minutes more and the startled doctors fell back from the bedside at a motion of Reuel’s hand. A wondering nurse, with dilated eyes, unfolded a screen, placed it in position and came and stood beside the bed opposite Reuel. Holding Dianthe’s hands, he said in a low voice: “Are you awake?” Her eyes unclosed in a cold, indifferent stare which gradually changed to one of recognition. She looked at him—she smiled, and said in a weak voice, “Oh, it is you; I dreamed of you while I slept.”

She was like a child—so trusting that it went straight to the young man’s heart, and for an instant a great lump seemed to rise in his throat and choke him. He held her hands and chafed them, but spoke with his eyes only. The nurse said in a low voice: “Dr. Briggs, a few spoonfuls of broth will help her?”

“Yes, thank you, nurse; that will be just right.” He drew a chair close beside the bed, bathed her face with water and pushed back the tangle of bright hair. He felt a great relief and quiet joy that his experiment had been successful.

“Have I been ill? Where am I?” she asked after a pause, as her face grew troubled and puzzled.

“No, but you have been asleep a long time; we grew anxious about you. You must not talk until you are stronger.”