"Doctor!" I cried, "Doctor--it isn't possible! I have tried! They made
me try at first, and it nearly killed me. Don't make me," I begged
childishly; "don't make me go through all that horror again!"
"There will be no horror," he said deliberately. "There will be
pain--yes--but comparatively slight. All through the summer I have
watched your case. Little by little we have stimulated the unused
muscles, as you have gained in vitality. At the time following your
accident, it was naturally torture to you to be forced to submit to
the hands of doctors and nurses. But eleven years have gone by, and I
am convinced, and have convinced both our good friend MacAllister and
your father, that the injury to your back has long since healed, and
that nothing remains but the inflexibility of the muscles and, if I
may term it such, a type of mental paralysis."
"You mean ..." I began, not yet believing.
"I mean," he interrupted, "that your mind has persuaded your body that
it will never walk again. Now, _I_ know better. Yours is not the first
case of this sort which has been brought to my attention. I have seen
six cures out of eight such cases during my studies abroad. They
interested me very much. It was primarily your case that brought me to
Green Hill. And the cure--please believe me--rests entirely with you."
"I don't believe it!" I said flatly, staring at him. "It simply isn't
possible that half a hundred doctors have been mistaken." And my eyes,
although my tongue did not, said very plainly, "And who are you?"
For the first time, he smiled.
"I am sorry," he said, "if I have been unable to inspire you with so
little confidence. The 'half a hundred' doctors were probably quite
correct--at the time they had your case. How long has it been since
you have had a specialist?"
"Six--no, seven years," I answered, and shuddered.
"I thought so," he said. And then, very suddenly, "Miss Carroll, do
you _want_ to walk again? Do you want to be a normal, active girl,
instead of a semi-invalid?"
I hated his tone.
"Of course I do," I fairly shouted, "do--do you think I'm a fool?"
"Sometimes," answered the amazing creature, calmly.
I was too angry to speak.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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