I had marked his incessant study of her. I had admired the skill with which he directed her attention--as a steersman directs his bark; provoking her into speech, perplexing her views to ascertain the consistency of her mind, then helping her thoughts, to witness whether her incoherence were due to normal weakness of intellect or to disease. He had lighted a cigar and sat smoking in silence--a silence I feared to question. From time to time he looked at me, with pity rather than embarrassment, and at last he spoke. "Mr. Thorburn, I should be intruding upon your hospitality were I to remain over to-morrow." "I understand. You have no doubt?" "No doubt." I mastered an emotion with a struggle. "Will you give me your opinion?" I said. "My opinion is that your wife is insane. It is impossible that I should pronounce upon the degree of her insanity from the short time I have been with her. The conditions with which she is surrounded must necessarily retard the growth of her madness. Her love for you and your presence here exercise a a restraining influence. Yet I am not satisfied that her mind is free from anxiety." "What makes you think this?" "I judge more from her aspect than her manners or language. Her physical condition implies the presence of some active mental pain, which is not due to insanity, though it would aggravate it." "But what could pain her? She is perfectly happy in my love. She will not suffer me to remove her from this house. Would society benefit her?" "I think not. If she objects to it she has her reason, and it would distress her." "Would a change of air, would a change of scene, be of use? I am rich, doctor; do not scruple to prescribe. If my fortune would benefit her, it should be spent." "I can prescribe only one thing--will you surrender her to my care?" "No. I could not part with her." "I am not surprised. Even if I took charge of her, I could not guarantee her recovery." "I will take charge of her myself. She would never bear being separated from me." "In one sense," he replied, "you would make a better guardian than I. But the duty of watching the mad is very painful--especially when the insane person is one we love." "But you do not think she requires watching yet?" "Not yet. I mean that there is no need of vigilant scrutiny, though I should advise you to keep her well in view. Her madness has not yet emphatically pronounced itself--but it may do so any day. You must humour her. Her love gives you an influence which no one else could easily possess. I predict, that when her insane moods are most vehement she will prove docile to you." He added, after a pause, "you should procure some woman whom you can trust to watch her. But not yet. Give her perfect freedom now. But when you find it needful to restrain her--and that time I fear will come--appoint some keeper of whose humanity and patience you can have proofs." "Have you no hope that she will recover?"