"
"Ah! Who?"
"He is a writer; and opinions vary as to his merit. Some say he has
talent; others say it is all eccentricity and affectation. One thing is
certain--his books bring about the changes he demands. And then he is
in earnest; he has taken a good many alleged lunatics out of
confinement."
"Is it possible? Then let us apply to him at once."
"He lives in London; but I have a friend who knows him. May I send an
outline to him through that friend, and ask him whether he can advise
you in the matter?"
"You may; and thank you a thousand times!"
"A mind like that, with knowledge, zeal, and invention, must surely
throw some light."
"One would think so, dear friend."
"I'll write to-night and send a letter to Greatrex; we shall perhaps
get an answer the day after to-morrow."
"Ah! you are not the one to go to sleep in the service of a friend. A
writer, did you say? What does he write?"
"Fiction."
"What, novels?"
"And dramas and all."
Lady Bassett sighed incredulously. "I should never think of going to
Fiction for wisdom."
"When the Family Calas were about to be executed unjustly, with the
consent of all the lawyers and statesmen in France, one man in a nation
saw the error, and fought for the innocent, and saved them; and that
one wise man in a nation of fools was a writer of fiction.
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