"A few weeks ago, and you would have said: 'What is life even with
them?'"
"Then you really think I am better?" he smiled.
"I'm sure of it."
"As for me," he returned, "I confess it. That has happened which I
thought never would happen. I am once more interested in life. The
wish to live has come back. I am glad to be alive. Carl, your first
case has been a success."
"No thanks to me," I said. "Beyond seeing that you didn't displace the
broken pieces of your thigh-bone, what have I done? Nothing. No one
knows that better than you do."
"That's your modesty--your incurable modesty."
I shook my head, and went to stand by his couch. I was profoundly
aware then, despite all the efforts of my self-conceit to convince
myself to the contrary, that I had effected nothing whatever towards
his recovery, that it had accomplished itself without external aid.
But that did not lessen my intense pleasure in the improvement. By
this time I had a most genuine affection for Alresca. The rare
qualities of the man--his serenity, his sense of justice, his
invariable politeness and consideration, the pureness of his soul--had
captured me completely. I was his friend. Perhaps I was his best
friend in the world. The singular circumstances of our coming together
had helped much to strengthen the tie between us. I glanced down at
him, full of my affection for him, and minded to take advantage of the
rights of that affection for once in a way.
"Alresca," I said quietly.
"Well?"
"What was it?"
"What was what?"
I met his gaze.
"What was that thing that you have fought and driven off? What is the
mystery of it? You know--you must know. Tell me."
His eyelids fell.
"Better to leave the past alone," said he. "Granting that I had formed
an idea, I could not put it into proper words. I have tried to do so.
In the expectation of death I wrote down certain matters. But these I
shall now destroy. I am wiser, less morbid. I can perceive that there
are fields of thought of which it is advisable to keep closed the
gates. Do as I do, Carl--forget. Take the credit for my recovery, and
be content with that."
I felt that he was right, and resumed my position near the window,
humming a tune.
"In a week you may put your foot to the ground; you will then no
longer have to be carried about like a parcel." I spoke in a casual
tone.
"Good!" he ejaculated.
"And then our engagement will come to an end, and you will begin to
sing again."
"Ah!" he said contemplatively, after a pause, "sing!"
It seemed as if singing was a different matter.