"I can do nothing for your father," said he to Agnes (when he had been under his care six months), laying great stress on the word I;——(Agnes, with a face of horror, started from her seat, and laid her hand on his arm)——"but you can do a great deal."
"Can I? can I?" exclaimed Agnes, sobbing convulsively.—"Blessed hearing! But the means—the means?"
"It is very certain," he replied, "that he experiences great delight when he sees you, and sees you too employed in his service;—and when he lives with you, and sees you again where he has been accustomed to see you——"
"You advise his living with me, then?" interrupted Agnes with eagerness.
"I do, most strenuously," replied the doctor.
"Blessings on you for those words!" answered Agnes: "they said you would oppose it. You are a wise and a kind-hearted man."
"My dear child," rejoined the doctor, "when an evil can't be cured, it should at least be alleviated."
"You think it can't be cured, then?" again interrupted Agnes.
"Not absolutely so:—I know not what a course of medicine, and living with you as much in your old way as possible, may do for him. Let him resume his usual habits, his usual walks, live as near your former habitation as you possibly can; let him hear his favourite songs, and be as much with him as you can contrive to be; and if you should not succeed in making him rational again, you will at least make him happy."
"Happy!—I make him happy, now!" exclaimed Agnes, pacing the room in an agony:—"I made him happy once!—but now!——"