He sent for her, and she came to him in the sitting-room.  He said, “There is no change.”  Her brain reeled and righted itself.  She had thought he was going to say “There is no hope.”

“Will he get better?” she said.

“I cannot tell you.”

The doctor seated himself and prepared to deal long and leisurely with the case.

“It’s impossible to say.  He may get better.  He may even get well.  But I should do wrong if I let you hope too much for that.”

“You can give no hope?” she said, thinking that she uttered his real thought.

“I don’t say that.  I only say that the chances are not—­exclusively—­in favour of recovery.”

“The chances?”

“Yes.  The chances.”  The doctor looked at her, considering whether she were a woman who could bear the truth.  Her eyes assured him that she could.  “I don’t say he won’t recover.  It’s this way,” said he.  “There’s a clot somewhere on the brain.  If it absorbs completely he may get well—­perfectly well.”

“And if it does not absorb?”

“He may remain as he is, paralysed down the left side.  The paralysis may be only partial.  He may recover the use of one limb and not the other.  But he will be paralysed.  Partially or completely.”

She pictured it.

“Ah—­but,” she said, laying hold on hope again, “he will not die?”

“Well—­there may be further lesions—­in which case—­”

“He will die?”

“He may die.  He may die any moment.”

She accepted it, abandoning hope.

“Will there be any return of consciousness?  Will he know me?”

“I’m afraid not.  If consciousness returns we may begin to hope.  As it is, I don’t want you to make up your mind to the worst.  There are two things in his favour.  He has evidently a sound constitution.  And he has lived—­up till now—­Mr. Hannay tells me, a rather unusually temperate life.  That is so?”

“Yes.  He was most abstemious.  Always—­always.  Why?”

The doctor recalled his eyes from their examination of Mrs. Majendie’s face.  It was evident that there were some truths which she could not bear.

“My dear Mrs. Majendie, there is no why, of course.  That is in his favour.  There seems to have been nothing in his previous history which would predispose to the attack.”

“Would a shock—­predispose him?”

“A shock?”

“Any very strong emotion—­”

“It might.  Certainly.  If it was recent.  Mr. Hannay told me that he—­that you—­had had a sudden bereavement.  How long ago was that?”

“A month—­nearly five weeks.”

“Ah—­so long ago as that?  No, I think it would hardly be likely.  If there had been any recent violent emotion—­”

“It would account for it?”

“Yes, yes, it might account for it.”

“Thank you.”

He was touched by her look of agony.  “If there is anything else I can—­”