‘No, no! I was thinking nothing of the kind,’ said he. ‘You must not go. Do you know—but of course you don’t—that she is perfectly insane at this present moment? She would not know you. She does not know me; and she would shriek with horror if any one showed her her child. She is in the right hands, and you must not go near her.’ ‘Mad—but she will get better?’ ‘I hope so—at least, perhaps she may.’ ‘But she will recover her reason?’ ‘Most likely, if she lives. But it may be a long time first.’ Stayed in her desire to go to Ada’s help, and as it were cast back upon herself, Eleanor stood drooping for a moment. ‘Have you had no telegram from London?’ he asked. ‘Oh, I had nearly forgotten. This is it,’ she said, taking it from the mantelpiece. Michael read— ‘Your message received and attended to.’ It was from Gilbert. He turned it over reflectively. ‘H’m! I wonder what that means.’ ‘Can it mean that he is coming? I wish he had been more explicit.’ ‘He would not wish to excite suspicion. Bradstane suspicion is easily aroused. If he did come, it would be by the south mail, which is due in a quarter of an hour. If you like, if you will allow me, I will wait with you till he comes; or rather, till we see whether he comes.’ ‘You are very good. You are sure there is nothing more that I can do?’ ‘Nothing, at present.’ ‘Then shall we go to the other room, and stay with Mrs. Parker till we know what happens?’ ‘If you like,’ said Michael, slowly; and he felt as if some living, tangible thing were rushing on wings of swiftness towards them, so visibly, to him, did the moment approach when the veil between them should be rent aside. Yet he made a step towards the door, as if to open it for her; and she moved towards it too, and swerved unsteadily to one side, for excitement and suspense had told upon her and weakened her. Michael knew that she was proud, and that her pride impelled her to conceal what she felt as long as was practicable; but not the slightest sign or movement that she made could escape him. He was at her side in an instant. ‘No, stay here! Do not go into the other room,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘I will bring Mrs. Parker to you, if you like; but do you stay here.’ He had a firm hand, and a grasp at once strong and gentle; and as she felt her hand in it she paused again, steadying herself against the head of a sofa, and looking at him, half-affrighted, half-eager, at the look she encountered. ‘It was nothing—the weakness of a moment,’ she said. ‘I will conquer it. I must not give way now.’ ‘I think you must,’ said he, as he released her hand, and stood before her for a moment. ‘You are faint; you are weak; you are broken. This battle is one for which you have never been trained. Give way; it is the best.’ ‘And what is to become of me if I do?’ she asked, blankly.