"Wealth—when I get it," answered the doctor. "Wealth, and what it brings; ease, leisure, unlimited opportunity and means for the cultivation of the intellect."
"The intellect, then, is your final object, your ultimate good?" said Bergan.
"Yes; it is the one thing which distinguishes man from the brutes," replied the doctor.
"With the soul," rejoined Bergan.
"A word without an idea," returned the doctor,—"unless, indeed, you mean to apply it to that life-principle, which belongs to plants and animals, as well as men."
Bergan looked amazed. "Do you really make no distinction," he asked, "between mind and soul?"
"None. To me, they are synonymous terms."
"Is it from the intellect, then," said Bergan, "that the moral sense comes?"
Doctor Remy's lips opened for a reply, but closed again in silence. And, knowing that he was never at a loss for a rejoinder, Bergan suspected that the words so suddenly cut off from utterance were of a franker character than his second thought approved. Before his less impromptu answer was ready, Bergan, following out some rapid, unexplained train of thought, asked;—
"Doctor, did you ever feel remorse?"