Yet Dr. Page volunteered to say to them presently:
"If his heart holds out, I am hopeful that he will pull through."
Dr. Page had given up all his duties for the sake of Wilbur. He never
left the house, manifestly devoting, as shown by the unflagging,
absorbed scrutiny with which he noted every symptom and change, the
fullest measure of his professional skill and a heart-felt purpose to
save his friend's life if human brain or human concentration could
avail. And yet he stated to Pauline in Selma's hearing that, beyond
keeping up the patient's strength by stimulants, science was practically
helpless, and that all they could do was to wait.
And so they sat, still and unemployed watchers, while day turned into
darkness. From time to time, by the night-lamp, Selma saw Pauline
smiling at her as though in defiance of whatever fate might have in
store. Selma herself felt the inclination neither to smile nor to weep.
She sat looking before her with her hands clasped, resenting the
powerlessness of the few remedies used, and impatient of the inactivity
and relentless silence. Why did not the doctor adopt more stringent
measures? Surely there was something to be done to enable Wilbur to
combat the disease. Dr.
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