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Updated: May 5, 2025
Well, doctor, suppose I acknowledged that I did so mind, I don't acknowledge it! you might, on your side, think something too that I am mad, for instance. Ah! Miss Bright has knocked over her glass!" Cuckoo murmured a stumbling apology, gazing with nervous intentness at Valentine. It seemed to her that he had a gift of divination. Doctor Levillier laughed gently.
These came to Doctor Levillier day by day, overtaken by sad moments, by sudden, dreary crises of the soul, that set them impotently wailing, like Job among the potsherds. Many of them did not "curse God," only because they did not believe in Him. It is not the fashion in London to believe in God just now. Dr.
Wade was also especially partial as he would have expressed himself to Doctor Levillier, and when he saw who the visitor was, his face relaxed into contentment that strongly suggested a smile. "Back at last Wade, you see," the doctor said, cheerfully. "Is Mr. Cresswell in?" "No, sir. But I expect him every minute to dress for dinner. He's dining out, and it's near seven now.
Upon seeing the doctor, Valentine paused on the threshold of the door, and, as he paused, the doctor's horror fled. "Valentine," he said, holding out his hand. "Doctor." Their hands met and their eyes. And then Levillier had an instant sensation that he shook hands with a stranger. He looked upon the face of Valentine certainly, but he was aware of a subtle, yet large, change in it.
Why don't you turn up the light?" "I don't know," Julian answered, drily. Doctor Levillier saw that anxiety was beginning to unnerve him. When the glass was found the doctor led Julian back to the tentroom and pushed him gently down in a chair. "Keep quiet," he said. "And keep hoping." "There is there is hope?" "Why not?" Then the doctor held the little glass to Valentine's lips.
But I do not believe he can change radically and permanently, except from one cause." The last words were spoken after a moment of hesitation. Valentine rejoined quickly: "What? What? One cause, you say! You allow that wait, though! What is the cause?" Doctor Levillier was silent. He was asking himself should he play this forcing card, make this sharp, cutting experiment.
"Yes, Addison," Doctor Levillier continued, in a low voice, "I am perpetually sitting with sorrow, communing with disease. That consulting-room of mine is as a pool of Bethesda, only not all who come to it, alas! can be healed.
"You think that flame came only from my inner consciousness?" Julian asked. "I suspect so. Shut your eyes now." Julian did so. Doctor Levillier bent over and pressed his two forefingers hard on Julian's eyes. After a moment, "What do you see?" he asked. "Nothing," Julian replied. "Wait a little longer. Now what do you see?" "Now I see a broad ring of yellow light edged with ragged purple."
Well, what is it?" Julian replied quickly: "That man I told you about, Marr, is dead." Doctor Levillier looked decidedly startled. Julian's frequent allusions to Marr and evident strange interest in the man, had impressed him as it had impressed Valentine. However, he only said: "Heart disease?" "I don't know. There is going to be an inquest." "When did he die?"
And then Valentine's profound respect for Doctor Levillier, a respect which the doctor inspired without effort in every one who knew him, was a chain almost of steel to hold the young man back from gratification of his longing. Valentine never sought any one's advice except the little doctor's, and he had a strong feeling of the obligation laid upon him by such sought advice.
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