"Nonsense, my dear," said Mrs. Dalmain, "When but one right course lies before you, there can be no possible need for hesitation or consideration. You are merely nervously postponing the inevitable. You remind me of scenes we used to have in the out-patient department of a hospital in the East End of London, to which I once went for training. When patients came to the surgery for teeth extraction, and the pretty sympathetic little nurse in charge had got them safely fixed into the chair; as one of the doctors, prompt and alert, came forward with unmistakably business-like forceps ready, the terrified patient would exclaim: 'Oh, let the nurse do it! Let the nurse do it!' the idea evidently being that three or four diffident pulls by the nurse, were less alarming than the sharp certainty of _one_ from the doctor. Now, my dear Myra, you have to face your ordeal. If it is to be successful there must be no uncertainty." "Oh, Jane, I wish you were not such a decided person. I am sure when _you_ were the nurse, the poor things preferred the doctors. I am terrified; yet I know you are right. And, oh, you dear, don't leave me! See me through." "I am never away from Garth for a night, as you know," said Mrs. Dalmain. "But he and little Geoff went down to Overdene this morning, with Simpson and nurse; so, if your man can motor me over during the evening, I will stay as long as you need me." "Ah, thanks," said Lady Ingleby. "And now, Jane, you have done all you can for me; and God knows how much that means. I want to be quite alone for an hour. I feel I must face it out, and decide what I really intend doing. I owe it to Jim, I owe it to myself, to be quite sure what I mean to say, before I see him. Order tea in the library. Tell him I will see him; and, at the end of the hour, send him here. But, Jane--not a hint of anything which has passed between us. I may rely on you?" "My dear," said Mrs. Dalmain, gently, "I play the game!" She rose and stood on the hearthrug, looking intently at her husband's painting of Lord Ingleby. "And, Myra," she said at last, "I do entreat you to remember, you are dealing with an unknown quantity. You have never before known intimately a man of Jim Airth's temperament. His love for you, and yours for him, hold elements as yet not fully understood by you. Remember this, in drawing your conclusions. I had almost said, Let instinct guide, rather than reason." "I understand your meaning," said Lady Ingleby. "But I dare not depend upon either instinct or reason. I have not been a religious woman, Jane, as of course you know; but--I have been learning lately; and, as I learn, I try to practise. I feel myself to be in so dark and difficult a place, that I am trying to say, 'Even _there_ shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy right Hand shall hold me.'" "Ah, you are right," said Jane's deep earnest voice; "that is the best of all. God's hand alone leads surely, out of darkness into light."