"I advise nothing till I see how he pulls round. What I most fear is that his whole will-power, his very capability to form a resolution, has been atrophied, made ineffective, by this drug. He--I am telling you all my worst fears, of course, because this is not a time to buoy you up with false hopes--he is, I fear, from what you tell me, incapable of resistance. That is the real and fatal danger. Now, is there any motive, any thought, or aim, or desire that was his, which we can make use of, on which, so to speak, we can prop up and train the will-power, which is lying like a creeper that has been torn from its supports? His devotion to you, for example? His love for his children?" Catherine turned on him a perfectly hopeless look, and shook her head. The waters of Marah were in that gesture. The doctor spoke again, gently, tenderly. "Then, who has the most influence over him?" he asked. "Oh, Maud," said she--"his sister, you know I have no doubt whatever about that. I think," she added quietly--"I think he hates me." She spoke quite quietly, as if stating the most commonplace of facts, and the very simplicity of the words were intensely pathetic to the kind man. But they were best passed over without comment. "Then, may I consult with her before I go," he said, "as to anything she can suggest which can appeal to him, support him? He is drowning, he must drown as far as purely medical skill can help him, and we want--do we not?--to throw any sort of life-buoy to him which may keep him afloat." "Hypnotism? That sort of thing?" she asked. "I do not think it possible that hypnotism or suggestion can help him," he said. "There must be something to hypnotise, something to suggest to, and that something is will-power. One cannot say it is wholly destroyed, because I suppose that would mean death, but it is in so feeble and impotent a state that I know of nothing which can touch it." Though Catherine had taken all this very quietly, her quietude was partly that of someone who is stunned, and now her mind recurred, as she recovered herself, to one of those sentences which, so to speak, had dealt the blow. "You mean that only a miracle can restore him?" she said. "Yes, but I believe in miracles," said he, "though, unfortunately, you cannot produce a miracle as you can produce a bottle of medicine." Catherine got up. "How strange that you should say that!" she said. "Because Maud believes in them, as you do, but she thinks them most accessible. Only she no longer calls them miracles--she calls them Christian Science!" Sir James could not have looked cynical or sneering if he had tried, and he certainly did not try. But there was an uncommon dryness in his tone. "The lady in Boston?" he inquired. "No; a man in Caithness," said Catherine. "I will ring; she shall come and tell you if she is in." He put up his hand to stop her.