"Thank God!" said Shock, with a long breath."Will he live?""It is a question now of strength and vitality.If the inflammation is not too widely extended the child may recover.Young life is very tenacious."The doctor washed his hands, wiped his instruments, put them carefully away in their case, and sat down.
"Doctor," said Shock, "that is a great work.Even to a layman that operation seems wonderful."Under the stimulus of his professional work the doctor's face, which but two days before had been soft and flabby, seemed to have taken on a firmer, harder appearance, and his whole manner, which had been shuffling and slovenly, had become alert and self-reliant.
"A man who can do that, doctor, can do great things."A shadow fell on his face.The look of keen intelligence became clouded.His very frame lost its erect poise, and seemed to fall together.His professional air of jaunty cheerfulness forsook him.
He huddled himself down into his chair, put his face in his hands, and shuddered.
"My dear sir," he said, lifting up his face, "it is quite useless, quite hopeless.""No," said Shock eagerly, "do not say that.Surely the Almighty God--"
The doctor put up his hand.
"I know all you would say.How often have I heard it! The fault is not with the Almighty, but with myself.I am still honest with myself, and yet--" Here he paused for some moments."I have tried--and I have failed.I am a wreck.I have prayed--prayed with tears and groans.I have done my best.But I am beyond help."For a full minute Shock stood, gazing sadly at the noble head, the face so marred, the huddling form.He knew something of the agony of remorse, humiliation, fear, and despair that the man was suffering.
"Dr.Burton," said Shock, with the air of a man who has formed a purpose, "you are not telling the truth, sir."The doctor looked up with a flash of indignation in his eyes.
"You are misrepresenting facts in two important particulars.You have just said that you have done your best, and that you are beyond all help.The ****** truth is you have neither done your best, nor are you beyond help.""Beyond help!" cried the doctor, starting up and beginning to pace the floor, casting aside his usual gentle manner."You use plain speech, sir, but your evident sincerity forbids resentment.If you knew my history you would agree with me that I state the ****** truth when I declare that I am beyond help.You see before you, sir, the sometime President of the Faculty of Guy's, London, a man with a reputation second to none in the Metropolis.But neither reputation, nor fortune, nor friends could avail to save me from this curse.Icame to this country in desperation.It was a prohibition country.
Cursed be those who perpetrated that fraud upon the British public!
If London be bad, this country, with its isolation, its monotony of life, and this damnable permit system, is a thousand times worse.
God pity the fool who leaves England in the hope of recovering his manhood and ******* here.I came to this God-forsaken, homeless country with some hope of recovery in my heart.That hope has long since vanished.I am now beyond all help.""No," said Shock in a quiet, firm voice, "you have told me nothing to prove that you are beyond help."In fact," he continued almost brusquely, "no man of sense and honesty has a right to say that.
