"Undoubtedly the realisation of his hopes has been a great shock to him, bodily, and mentally also, for the sight of you has had the effect of dispersing the cloud which has shadowed his brain for so long. He is now what may be called sane--perfectly sane--although the term is a misleading one, for he has never been insane, as we understand the word. His state has been curious. I can only describe it in the words I used just now. His mind has been shadowed--clouded by one idea, one obsession. And now, the sight of you, as he sees you, has removed the cloud; he is satisfied and sane." "Will he recover?" asked Philippa gently. "I cannot say. He is very weak. But this I can say--that so surely as he suffers another disappointment, or as he frets, and is not satisfied, so surely he will die." The doctor fixed his eyes upon the girl's upturned face. Intense anxiety was written clearly upon his features; he tugged at his ragged beard even more fiercely than before. "But how is it possible---- How can I----" she faltered, and he interrupted her vehemently-- "Don't decide--don't decide. Listen, and think of it--the pity of it! For over twenty years I have been attending Francis Heathcote and seen him constantly, with never a word of greeting from him, never a sign of recognition. He is not merely my patient, he is my boyhood's dearest friend, and since his accident I have watched him closely; at first with hope, but later--with despair. If you could have known him in early manhood, and then seen him struck down to the pitiful wreck of after years, you would appreciate what it has been for those who loved him--and we all loved him--to stand by and do nothing. He was the most lovable creature it has ever been my lot to know. "Miss Harford,"--he dropped into a chair at her side and leaned towards her,--"to-night, when I went into his room, I thought he was sleeping, but he opened his eyes and saw me standing beside him, and then----" The doctor cleared his throat and steadied his voice, which was shaking with emotion--"'Hullo, Rob!' he said. It was only a whisper, but I tell you the old boyhood's name nearly did for me. 'Have I been dreaming, or was Phil here?' "'Yes, she was here,' I answered as lightly as I could. "'Will she come?' he asked eagerly. "'She will come,' I said. 'But you have been ill, and you must get a bit stronger first.'" The doctor paused, and for a few moments there was silence, broken only by the words he was muttering under his breath, "Hullo, Rob! Hullo, Rob!" "May I ask a question?" said Philippa at last. "Ask as many as you like," he replied quickly. "Is his--condition--the state he has been in for all these years, I mean--is it--was it the result of the accident, or----" "I think I know what you want to say. You want to know to what extent his long illness was due to the disappointment he suffered?" She nodded.