A ROMANCE OF SCIENCE AND DEVOTION.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVII, Issue 11544, 1 December 1900, Page 2 (Supplement)

A ROMANCE OF SCIENCE AND DEVOTION.

London, October 15. Sight to the blind! Never was there such a wedding gift! . William Montague Dyke had lived in darkness, studied in darkness, won high university honours in darkness. He had met -his affinity in darkness, learned to love her in darkness, wooed her in darkness. With th» wedding day came light-tne gift of science. He beheld her for the first time—at last he knew what it was tc love in the light. At last she knew what it was to look into the seeing eyes of her lover and to know that he beheld her, and found hei infinitely fairer than his dreams. Sir William Hart Dyke is one of the richest baronets in England, and a conSous member of Lord Salisbury ■, followSi Al vice-president of the Privy Council Committee on Education he is virtually a member of the Cabinet. Other offices he has occupied in the past are Joint Secretary of the Treasury and Chief Secretary for Ireland. In the House of Commons for many years he occupied the important position of Whip for the Conservative party. , The baronetcy dates from 1677. 1 hefamily seat is Lullingstone Castle, Dartford, The* hero of the story is the second son, William Montague, who, if his soldier brother* were to die, would be heir to the baronetcy. „ , , _ . William Montague Dyke was bora in 1877 Sometimes he needed a playmate in his games of fancy. Hence it happened that one day the lodgekeeper's son, with an iron pot on his head and a pitchfork in his hand, j assumed the role of a man-at-arms, while j the baronet's sou impersonated some knightly ancestor of his own. Just how it happened does not matter. A slip, a stumble, an awkward movement, and the little make-believe knight fell screaming to the ground, his hands clasped over his right eve, and blood trickling through his fingers, while the rustic lad stared in a stupor at the prongs of the pitchfork, blubbering, " I never meant it! I never meant it!" Stone blind at the age of ten—that was the fate pronounced on the baronet's second son after the best oculists in the three kingdoms had worked their will with him. Blind for life, they said, as they packed up their instruments for the last time. The light had failed—had been blotted out. William Montague Dyke at the age of ten had to begin life over again on a new plan. To be a successful blind man demands a certain temperament. William Montagu Dyke had it. Always a student, the blind boy, after recovering from the first shock of 'his affliction— finding his feet, as it were—became more of a student than ever. With fewer distractions, and a greater incentive to cultivate the pleasures of mind, he applied himself to the intellectual culture as a life work. At an earlier age than most boys who can see he entered Cambridge. His university career was a remarkable one, and he was graduated with high honours. In the world of academic and political thought he began to make a mark at 20. But for his affliction a great career in statesmanship would have opened before him. One of his greatest admirers and most helpful friends was Lord Salisbury. His friends were confident that he would at least equal the career of the blind Professor Fawcett, Gladstone's friend and Post-master-General, who held a chair in Oxford, and would have been a member of the last Liberal Cabinet save for his sightlessness. If it be true that to be a successful blind man demands a certain temperament, it is equally true that to be a blind man's wife demands a certain temperament. This temperament was possessed by a daughter of Admiral John Halliday Cave. C.8., one of the most esteemed officers on the retired list of Her Majesty's Navy. Miss Cave and Mr. Dyke met in society. He learned to know her by the infinitely sympathetic cadences of her voice, by her words, which revealed a mind well trained and a nature at once tender, simple, and strong, and perhaps by the undefinahle sixth sense which conveys so much of individuality to every true lover. He did not know how she looked. Others tried to give him an idea, and he constructed a mental picture of a sort, helped by memories of how girls looked when he was a boy. A cynic might declare that he was no blinder than any other lover that ever heaved a sigh, and it is certainly not easy to point out much difference in the methods by which blind men and other men fall in love.

Miss Cave passed through the spiritual process experienced by most young women when they, too. fall in love, and perhaps the customary emotions were heightened by pity for her lover's sad, sightless eyes, and admiration for his noble fortitude and the graces of hin mind. As Miss Cave's betrothed, Mr. Dyke was enabled to call other senses into play to help the fancy picture he had formed of her in the dark room of his imagination. He learned, for instance, how electrically warm her hand felt under bis palm. Perhaps he achieved some mental glimmering of the modelling of her waist. More than likely hi 3 lips— Bu* this is mere speculation. Whatever his discoveries, instead of being St..isfied with the picture in his mind, he was more passionately eager than before to behold his love with his veritable eyes, the eyes of the flesh. And in the torment. ■>f this desire he went to the most famous oculist in London, pleaded so desperately for one hour of sight, if it lay in science's power to grant such a boon, that something went wrong with the oculist's glasses, and he had to take them oft and rub them, while he cleared his throat to say that if anything could be done he would do it. Something could be done, it turned out— •something quite interesting from a scientific point of view. But this is not a scientific story. Hope of returning light was held out not a strong, flashing hope, but a dim, flickering hope, hedged around with many " ifs," and blown upon by many " hems" and "haws." And Mr. Dyke submitted himself to a course of treatment of which the physical anguish was as nothing to the mental anguish 01 doubt alternating with hope. All hope centred in the day set for the wedding. That was yesterday, October 12. On that day the bandages were to be removed. Would there be light for the bridegroom lover and the sight of his bride's face, or would he be still condemned to lifelong darkness? All the fashion of Mayfair, all the statesmanship of Westminster, all the intellectual and artistic life of London, hung on the answer. But the oculist was dumb. The day came, and the presents, and the guests. There were Cabinet Ministe'-s, end generals, and bishops, and learned men, arid a rout of fashionable men and women. William Montagu Dyke dressed for the altar, his, eyes still shrouded in linen. He drove to the church with his father, and the oculist met them in the vestry. Miss Cave entered the building on the arm of her white-haired father, „ne admiral, who was all decked out in th? blue and gold lace of the quarterdeck. So moved was she that she could hardly speak. Was her lover at last to see her face— face that others admired, but which he knew only through his delicate fingertips? As she neared the altar, while the soft strains of the Wedding March from " Lohengrin" floated through the church, her eyes fell on a strange group. Sir William Hart Dyke stood there with his son. Before the latter was the gieat oculist in the act of cutting away the last bandage. William Montague Dyke took a step forward, with the spasmodic uncertainty of one who cannot believe that ho is awake. A beam of rose-coloured light from a pane in the chancel window fell across his face, but he did not seem to see it. Did he see anything? Yes ! Recovering in an instant his steadiness of mien, and with a dignity and joy never before Been in his face, he went forward to meet his bride. They looked into each other's eyes, and one would have thought that his eyes would never wander from ner face. "At last 1" she said. "At last!" he echoed, solemnly, bowing bis head.