a rather unusually temperate
life. That is so?"

"Yes. He was most abstemious. Always--always. Why?"

The doctor recalled his eyes from their examination of Mrs. Majendie's
face. It was evident that there were some truths which she could not
bear.

"My dear Mrs. Majendie, there is no _why_, of course. That is in his
favour. There seems to have been nothing in his previous history which
would predispose to the attack."

"Would a shock--predispose him?"

"A shock?"

"Any very strong emotion--"

"It might. Certainly. If it was recent. Mr. Hannay told me that he--that
you--had had a sudden bereavement. How long ago was that?"

"A month--nearly five weeks."

"Ah--so long ago as that? No, I think it would hardly be likely. If there
had been any recent violent emotion--"

"It would account for it?"

"Yes, yes, it might account for it."

"Thank you."

He was touched by her look of agony. "If there is anything else I can--"

"No. Thank you very much. That is all I wanted to know."

She went back into the sick-room. She stayed there all evening, and they
brought her food to her there. She stayed, watching for the sign of
consciousness that would give hope. But there was no sign.

The nurse went to bed at nine o'clock. Anne had insisted on sitting up
that night. Hannay slept in the next room, on a sofa, within call.

When they had left her alone with her husband, she knelt down beside his
bedside and prayed. And as she knelt, with her bowed head near to that
body sleeping its strange and terrible sleep, she remembered nothing but
that she had once loved him; she was certain of nothing but that she
loved him still. His body was once more dear and sacred to her as in her
bridal hour. She did not ask herself whether it were paying the penalty
of its sin; her compassion had purged him of his sin. She had no memory
for the past. It seemed to her that all her life and all her suffering
were crowded into this one hour while she prayed that his soul might come
back and speak to her, and that his body might not die. The hour trampled
under it that other hour when she had knelt by the loathed bridal bed,
wrestling for her own spiritual life. She had no life of her own to pray
for now. She prayed only that he might live.

And though she knew not whether her prayer were answered she knew that it
was heard.

CHAPTER XXXIX

It was the evening of the third day. There was no change in Majendie.

Dr. Gardner had