'Oh!' cried Lance, 'that was what I heard Felix saying to Captain Audley—that he did so wish Dr. May could look at me!'
'That's all right, then. Come, then, what is weighing on you—weakness?'
'Just not weakness,' said Lance. 'I didn't care so much when I could scarcely get about; but now I can walk any distance, and still I have not a bit more sense!'
'Is your memory gone?'
'I don't think so; only, if I fix my mind to recollect, and it doesn't come by chance, I'm all abroad, and perfectly senseless and idiotic!'
'And it brings on pain?'
'Yes, if I try five minutes together.'
'You don't try to read or write?'
'I can't—and—' then came the tears again—'music is just like red-hot hammers to me.' There was a great fight with sobs, rather puzzling to one who did not know what music was to the chorister. 'And what is to be the end of it?'
'That rest and patience will make you as well as ever.'