I tried _fata morgana, mirage,
parhelion_, and whatever I had learned of recognized illusion, but in
vain sought satisfaction, or anything pointing in the direction of
satisfaction. I was compelled to leave the thing alone. My uncle kept
silence about it, but seemed to brood more than usual. I think he too was
convinced that it must have another explanation than present science
would afford him. Once I ventured to ask if he had come to any
conclusion; with a sad smile, he answered,
"I am waiting, little one. There is much we have to wait for. Where would
be the good of having your mind made up wrong? It only stands in the way
of getting it made up right!"
By degrees the thing went into the distance, and I ceased even
speculating upon it. But one little fact I may mention ere I leave
it--that, just as I was reaching a state of quiet mental prorogation, I
suddenly remembered that, the moment after the flash, my Zoe, startled as
she was, gave out a low whinny; I remembered the quiver of it under me:
she too must have seen her master's double!
CHAPTER IX.
THE GARDEN.
I remember nothing more to disturb the even flow of my life till I was
nearly seventeen. Many pleasant things had come and gone; many pleasant
things kept coming and going. I had studied tolerably well--at least my
uncle showed himself pleased with the progress I had made and was making.
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