" Those words came back to him now--the memorable words
that he had spoken to his sister at parting. With that thought in his
heart, he had gone where his duty called him. Months and months had
passed; thousands and thousands of miles, protracting their desolate
length on the unresting waters had rolled between them. And through the
lapse of time, and over the waste of oceans--day after day, and night
after night, as the winds of heaven blew, and the good ship toiled
on before them--he had advanced nearer and nearer to the end that
was waiting for him; he had journeyed blindfold to the meeting on the
threshold of that miserable door. "What has brought me here?" he said to
himself in a whisper. "The mercy of chance? No. The mercy of God."
He waited, unregardful of the place, unconscious of the time, until
the sound of footsteps on the stairs came suddenly between him and his
thoughts. The door opened, and the doctor was shown into the room.
"Dr. Merrick," said the landlady, placing a chair for him.
"_Mr._ Merrick," said the visitor, smiling quietly as he took the chair.
"I am not a physician--I am a surgeon in general practice."
Physician or surgeon, there was something in his face and manner which
told Kirke at a glance that he was a man to be relied on.
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