HOW I HAD WORD WITH MY LADY, JOAN BRANDON
"A marvel, Sir Adam (perceive me), a wonder! The constitution of a horse, an ox, nay an elephant, the which monstrous beast (you'll allow me!) hath a pachydermatous hide tolerably impervious to spears, axes, darts, javelins and the like puny offences, and a constitution whereby he liveth (you'll observe) whole centuries. Indeed, Sir Adam, 'tis a cure marvellous, being one I ha' wrought on my patient in spite of said patient. For look now (and heed me) here we have soul, mind and will, or what you will, pulling one way, and body hauling t'other, and body hath it, physics versus metaphysics—a pretty and notable case—"
"Why, he hath a notable hard head, Master Penruddock—"
"Head, Sir Adam, head—were his head as adamantine, as millstone or hard as one o' your cannon balls that shall not save him, if mind and body agreeably seek and desire death, and mind (pray understand, sir) is the more potent factor, thus (saving and excepting the abnormal vigour of his body) by all the rules of chirurgical science he should ha' died three days agone—when the seizure took him."
"Would to heaven I had!" said I, opening my eyes to scowl up at the little man who beamed down on me through monstrous horn-rimmed spectacles.
"Aha, and there we have it confessed, Sir Adam!" said he. "Yet we shall have him on his legs again in a day or so, thanks to my art—"
"And his lady's nursing!"
"What, hath she been with me in my sickness, Adam?" I questioned when the doctor had departed.
"Night and day, Martin, as sweet and patient with you as any angel in heaven, and you cursing and reviling her the while in your ravings—"
"Oh, God forgive me! Where is she now, Adam?"