It seemed that the young man was seriously perturbed by the announced
transformation.

"Sit down, won't you?" said Isaacson.

"No, thanks. I--"

He went to the rail. Isaacson followed him.

"Our talk quite decided me," Hartley said, "to call you in to-night. I
felt it was necessary. I felt I owed it to myself as a--if I may say
so--a rising medical man."

"I think you did."

"When she woke I told her so. But I'm sorry to say she didn't take my
view. We had a long talk. It really was most trying, most disagreeable.
But she was not herself. She knew it. She said it was my fault--that I
ought not to have given her that veronal. Certainly she did look awful.
D'you know"--he turned round to Isaacson, and there was in his face an
expression almost of awe--"it was really like seeing a woman become
suddenly old before one's very eyes. And--and I had thought she was
quite--comparatively--young!"

"And the result of your conversation?"

"At first things were not so bad. I agreed--I thought it was only
reasonable--to wait till Mr. Armine woke up and to see how he was then.
He slept for some time longer, and we sat there waiting. She--I must
say--she has charm."

Even in the midst of his anxiety, of his nervous tension, Isaacson could
scarcely help smiling. He could almost see Bella Donna fighting the
young man's dawning resolution with every weapon she had.

"Indeed she has!" he assented, without a touch of irony.

"Ah! Any man must feel it. At the same time, really she is a wreck now."

Isaacson's almost feminine intuition had evidently not betrayed him.
That altered face had had a great deal to do with Doctor Hartley's
definite resolve to have a consultation.

"Poor woman!" he added. "Upon my soul, I can't help pitying her. She
knows it, too. But I expect they always do."

"Probably. But you've come then to take me to the _Loulia_?"

"I told her I really must insist."

"How did you find the patient when he woke?"

"Well, I must say I didn't like the look of him at all.'"

"No? Did he seem worse?"

"I really--I really hardly know. But I told her he was much worse."

"Why?"

"Why? Because I was determined not to go on with the case alone, for
fear something should happen. She denied it. She declared he was much
better--stronger. He agreed with her, I must confess; said he felt more
himself, and all that. But--but she seemed rather putting the words into
his mouth, I fancied. I may have been wrong, bu