Heart and Science : a story of the present time

Chapter 4

Word Count: 742 | Released on: 18/11/2017

on who taught music to his half-sisters. Not many days since, he had himself assisted the enterprise, by taking a ticket at his mother's request. Seeing nothing, r

red the two central chairs, in the midway row of seats, which she and her companion had chosen. There was a vacant chair (among many others) at one extremity

e singers and players on the platform, he could feast his eyes on her with impu

offen

ved to the row of seats behind her. She was now nearer to him than she had been yet. He was again content, and more than content. The next performance was a solo on the piano. A round of applause welcomed the player. Ovid

er her - thus far. She would certainly arrive, nevertheless. My money

ppiness. He had openly avowed his dislike of concerts, when his mother had made him take a ticket for this

m figure of the young girl, on the gentle yet spirited carriage of her head. But the

the piano ca

away again, he heard Mrs. Gallilee's loud voice. She was administering a maternal caution to one

ssuredly express itself in some way. She was one of those women who can insult another woman (and safely disguise it

m. Mrs. Galilee astonished him by a little lecture on acoustics, delivered with the sweetest condescension. Her Christian humility smiled, and call the usher, Sir. "Sound, sir, is most perfectly heard towards

ked at e

fectly recovered the nervous shock of seeing the dog killed. C

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Heart and Science : a story of the present time

Wilkie Collins Literature

“The weary old nineteenth century had advanced into the last twenty years of its life. Towards two o’clock in the afternoon, Ovid Vere (of the Royal College of Surgeons) stood at the window of his consulting-room in London, looking out at the summer sunshine, and the quiet dusty street. He had received a warning, familiar to the busy men of our time — the warning from overwrought Nature, which counsels rest after excessive work. With a prosperous career before him, he had been compelled (at only thirty-one years of age) to ask a colleague to take charge of his practice, and to give the brain which he had cruelly wearied a rest of some months to come. On the next day he had arranged to embark for the Mediterranean in a friend’s yacht.”