All of which, being quite natural, was not surprising; only when at intervals among her absurd vagaries the patient startled them all by some exceptionally sane remark, indicating a very level head, indeed. It was then that Adele felt confused, and hardly knew what to do; she did not understand the case.
Drawing affection led her to put her arm around her mother’s neck, to place her cheek next hers, and to cherish her. The invalid did not even whisper in reply, but her tacit acceptance seemed to indicate that she knew it was her daughter near, very near, and felt her touch—that was enough. Fevered imagination was thus often soothed by the reality of love.
“Nothing does mother so much good as to love her; it’s better than medicine,” said Adele. “It’s very curious how quickly her mind becomes quiet when I don’t say a word, only let her know with caresses how we all love her.”
When Adele made this remark to the Doctor, he could only reiterate what Adele and her mother had already told each other by sympathetic touch. “Yes, the greatest thing on earth is love, the beginning and ending of the greatest good; and it is indeed a notable fact in sacred history that Christ made more cures by the instrumentality of touch, bloodless operations so to speak, than in any other way; in fact, Christ conquered Science and soared away beyond.”
This assertion seemed to impress Adele most seriously; then her mind turned towards some particular incident in her own experience.
“I made several cures myself when I was nursing in the hospital. I cured one of the physicians, a young man, a mere boy.”
“How, may I ask?” The Doctor was very inquisitive.
“Put my first finger on his lips—he knew instantly what I said—‘You had better not talk so much.’”
“Was he indeed cured?”
“Yes, instantly. He had been rather verdant before, but after his cure he turned a lovely pea-green. Doctor, physicians ought to look into this touchy-method; there’s more psychology than medicine in it—that’s why it cures.”