As soon as the new purpose took shape in his mind, he grew visibly stronger, in outward mental life at least. By now he had small hope or none that he would ever recover the use of his legs, but the sense of utter, futile weariness which had fastened upon him began to pass. And the new power came from a source deep down in the soul, of which for the first time he gained apperception. For several weeks after the mischief had been wrought, Brandon declined to see the vicar. He did not impugn his sincerity. Too well he knew the nature of the man to believe that he had acted from a trivial or unworthy motive. But it seemed impossible for one of Brandon’s liberal mind to forgive crass wrongheadedness raised to the nth power. Now that the will to live had been evoked, Brandon clung with pathetic tenacity to any frail straw of hope of physical recovery. He felt within himself how slight they were, but as the weeks of slow torment passed he never quite gave up. All the resources of modern science were at his service and they were used to the full. No known means was neglected of restoring the vital current to the outraged organism. Massage and radiant heat were applied, electricity was shot through his skin, he submitted to the newest serums, the latest treatments, but the unhappy weeks went by and the sufferer remained dead from the waist down. Indeed, the sole effect was that at last he was tempted to ask himself whether he had been wise in the first instance to drive the will to its almost superhuman effort to retain physical life. Time and again in these weeks of darkness that doubt recurred to him. The act of despotism of which he had been the witness, against which he had struggled with all the power he still possessed, weighed upon him increasingly. Somehow the whole miserable affair seemed to involve all the sources of his faith. What was that faith? He had gone to the wars of his country in the spirit of a modern Crusader, of one not expecting too much from the world or his fellow men, of one who was inclined to regard almost the whole of the Bible as a legend, but yet a staunch believer in the essential decency of his own nation, his own people, and imbued with the idea that somewhere in the universe there was a God of Righteousness who was striving to create Himself. But now a wound had been dealt him in the house of his friends. XXVIII FOR several months Brandon heard nothing of John Smith. Not able to write himself, he had not the courage to dictate a letter. In such circumstances there was nothing to be said which did not seem an impertinence, yet many times he was possessed by an intense desire to communicate. Day by day the man himself remained at the root of Brandon’s thoughts. In their last interview John had said that he had a great work to do. Although his fate had even then been foreshadowed, he had made that declaration; moreover, he had expressed a serene confidence that grace would be given for his task.