I
believe that Mr. Cresswell, who played very foolish tricks with his
nerves some time ago, just before he got to know you, has become mad to
this extent, that he believes himself to have a power of will unlike that
possessed by any other man,--an inhuman power, in fact. He fancies that
he has the will of a sort of god, and he wishes to prove this to himself
more especially. Everything is for self in a madman. Now he looks about
for a means of proving that his will can do everything. He wants to make
it do something extraordinary, uncommon. What does he find for it to do?
This, the ruin of Julian. And now I'll tell you why this ruin of Julian
would be a peculiar triumph for his will. Originally, when Cresswell was
sane and splendid, his splendour of sanity guarded Julian from all that
was dangerous. Julian was naturally inclined to be wild. He has an ardent
nature, and five years ago, when he was a mere boy, might have fallen
into a thousand follies. Cresswell's influence first kept him from these
follies, and at last taught him to loathe and despise them. And Julian,
remember this, told Cresswell at last that he had been to him a sort of
saviour. You can follow me?"
"'M," Cuckoo ejaculated with shut mouth and a nod of her head.
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