‘Ah!’ said Phœbe, half indignantly, ‘he should know when those curls were hidden away and grew silvery.’
‘He told me those things in part,’ said the young man. ‘He has felt the return very deeply, and I think it accounts for his being so much worse to-night—worse than I have seen him since we were at Montreal.’
‘Perfectly. I see the ladies do not think him so to-night; but he has been himself from the first, except that over-fatigue or extra weakness affect his memory for the time; and he cannot read or exert his mind—scarcely be read to. And he is sadly depressed in spirits.’
‘And no wonder, poor man,’ said Phœbe.
‘But I cannot think it is as they told us at Montreal.’
‘What?’
‘That the brain would go on weakening, and he become more childish. Now I am sure, as he has grown stronger, he has recovered intellect and intelligence. No one could doubt it who heard him three days ago advising me what branch of mathematics to work up!’
‘We shall hear to-morrow what Dr. F--- says. Miss Charlecote wrote to him as soon as we had my brother’s telegram. I hope you are right!’
‘For you see,’ continued the Canadian, eagerly, ‘injury from an external cause cannot be like original organic disease. I hope and trust he may recover. He is the best friend I ever had, except Mr. Henley, our clergyman at Lakeville. You know how he saved all our lives; and he persuaded Mr. Currie to try me, and give me a chance of providing for my little brothers and their mother better than by our poor old farm.’