But now the doctor turned from the sun to the lady of the feathers, and
there was a bright light in his quiet eyes.
"You and I must fight with all our forces," he said. "Have you ever
thought about this thing will which Cresswell worships insanely? Have you
ever felt it in you, Miss Bright?"
"I don't know as I have," Cuckoo said, secretly wondering if it were
that strange and fleeting power which had come to her of late, which
had made her for a moment fearless of Valentine as she defied him in the
loneliness of her room, which had stirred her even to a faith in herself
when she spoke with the doctor under the stars upon her doorstep.
"I think you have. I think you will. It must be there, for Julian feels
it in you. He--he calls it a flame."
"Eh? A flame?"
"Yes. He sees it in your eyes, and it holds him near you."
So the doctor spoke, partly out of his conviction, partly because he
had definitely resolved to put away from him all the things that fought
against his reason and that his imagination perhaps loved too much.
Such things, he thought, floated like clouds across the clearness of
his vision, and drowned the light of his power to do good. So his
fancies that had fastened on the mystery of the dead Marr and the living
Valentine, connecting them together, and weaving a veil of magic about
their strange connection, were banished.
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