And he may lie in this
condition for years; he may _never_ recover from it. Oh, think of that,
Jack!" Phil broke out excitedly; "_think_ of it! Our Fee, with his
splendid, clever mind, with all his bright hopes and ambitions, with the
certainty of going to college so near at hand,--to have to lie there,
day in and day out, a helpless, useless creature! And brought to it by
_my_ doing,--his own brother! _Oh_!" He drew his knee up, and folding
his arms round it, laid his face down with a moan.
I slipped over to his side and threw my arm across his shoulder.
"Phil, dear," I said, to comfort him, "try and not think of that
part; I'm sure Fee wouldn't want you to. You know he had that other
attack--and--perhaps this would have come any way--"
But Phil interrupted, looking at me with those miserable, hollow eyes.
"Not like this," he said. "Dr. Gordon told me himself that the blow Fee
got was what did the mischief this time; with medical care he might have
got over those other attacks. Gordon didn't dream that I was the
infuriated drunken brute who flung him against that chair. Drunken! I
think I must have been possessed by a _devil_! That _I_ should have
raised my hand against Fee,--the brother I love so dearly, my chum, my
comrade, mother's boy, of whom she was so tender! Oh, _God_! shall I
have to carry this awful remorse all the rest of my life!" His voice
broke in a kind of a wail, and he threw his clinched hands up over
his head.
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