But his adversary was still unconvinced.
“What does that prove? Do you think you could have saved this young woman if you had been in charge of the case?”
“Perhaps. I hope to save Mrs. Wells.”
“How?”
Leroy hesitated, frowned with a nervous squinting, as if he were trying to solve a baffling problem.
“How? I wish I could tell you, doctor, but you would not understand. That is the sad part of my work, I am all alone.”
His eyes burned somberly, then he spoke with intense feeling.
“Not one of you orthodox physicians will join me in my effort to save millions of unfortunates from the tragedy of our state hospitals. You won't lift a hand to help me. You all say there is nothing to be done. What a wicked evasion of responsibility! Nothing to be done? I tell you there is everything to be done. Suppose you had a daughter or a sister or a wife who was suffering from such an affliction—how would you feel? God grant you may never know how you would feel. Why do you doctors scoff at miracles when the Bible is full of them and we all live among them? What is life but an unceasing miracle? Tell me how you move your finger except by a miracle? What is vision? What is death? How do you know that spirits of the departed, good and bad, do not come back to help us—or to harm us? Many great men believe this and always have. Many fine women know that this is true. Mrs. Walters has actually seen an evil spirit hovering about a girl who was called insane. How do you know that insanity is not caused by evil possession?”
“Hold on! I can't answer all those questions,” laughed Owen and now his manner changed quite charmingly as he made an amende honorable. “I'm a stubborn old fool, doctor. I ought to have had more sense than to get into this argument. What I care about is to have this dear lady restored to health and happiness. There!” He held out his hand. “Forgive me! The more miracles you can work for her cure, the better I shall like it.”
At this Leroy relented in his turn.