Burns began to speak. His tone was matter-of-fact, yet it held
inflections of tenderness. His friend's case appealed to him powerfully;
his sympathy with Leaver's state of mind, as he was confident he
understood it, was intense. "If it were I!" he had said to himself--and
to Ellen--and had groaned in spirit at the thought. If it had been his
own case, it seemed to him he could not have endured it.
"You were at that sanitorium," Burns began. "Sanitoriums are useful
institutions, some of them get splendid results. But they have their
disadvantages. It's pretty difficult to eliminate the atmosphere of
illness. And, for a man whose training and instincts lead him to see
behind every face he meets in such a place, it's not an ideal spot at
all. What you need is a home, and that's what we're offering you, for as
long as you need it."
"And I appreciate it more than any words can express," Leaver said
gratefully. He turned his head now, and looked at his host. "Just to know
that I have such friends does me good. And I know that you mean all you
say. If I were a subject for a cure I might almost be tempted to take you
at your word."
"You are a subject for a cure."
Leaver shook his head, turning it away again. "Only to a certain point,"
he said, quietly. "Of course I know that rest and quiet will put my heart
right, because there's no organic lesion.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108