“You mean,” Dominey suggested quietly, “that until that hallucination has passed we must remain upon the same terms as we have done since my arrival home.”

“You’ve got it,” the doctor assented.  “It’s a tangled-up position, but we’ve got to deal with it—­or rather you have.  I can assure you,” he went on, “that all her other delusions have gone.  She speaks of the ghost of Roger Unthank, of the cries in the night, of his mysterious death, as parts of a painful past.  She is quite conscious of her several attempts upon your life and bitterly regrets them.  Now we come to the real danger.  She appears to be possessed of a passionate devotion towards you, whilst still believing that you are not her husband.”

Dominey pushed his chair back from the fire as though he felt the heat.  His eyes seemed glued upon the doctor’s.

“I do not pretend,” the latter continued gravely, “to account for that, but it is my duty to warn you, Sir Everard, that that devotion may lead her to great lengths.  Lady Dominey is naturally of an exceedingly affectionate disposition, and this return to a stronger condition of physical health and a fuller share of human feelings has probably reawakened all those tendencies which her growing fondness for you and your position as her reputed husband make perfectly natural.  I warn you, Sir Everard, that you may find your position an exceedingly difficult one, but, difficult though it may be, there is a plain duty before you.  Keep and encourage your wife’s affection if you can, but let it be a charge upon you that whilst the hallucination remains that affection must never pass certain bounds.  Lady Dominey is a good and sweet woman.  If she woke up one morning with that hallucination still in her mind, and any sense of guilt on her conscience, all our labours for these last months might well be wasted, and she herself might very possibly end her days in a madhouse.”

“Doctor,” Dominey said firmly.  “I appreciate every word you say.  You can rely upon me.”

The doctor looked at him.

“I believe I can,” he admitted, with a sigh of relief.  “I am glad of it.”

“There is just one more phase of the position,” Dominey went on, after a pause.  “Supposing this hallucination of hers should pass?  Supposing she should suddenly become convinced that I am her husband?”

“In that case,” the doctor replied earnestly, “the position would be exactly reversed, and it would be just as important for you not to check the affection which she might offer to you as it would be in the other case for you not to accept it.  The moment she realises, with her present predispositions, that you really are her lawful husband, that moment will be the beginning of a new life for her.”

Somehow they both seemed to feel that the last words had been spoken.  After a brief pause, the doctor helped himself to a farewell drink, filled his pipe and stood up.  The car which Dominey had ordered from the garage was already standing at the door.  It was curious how both of them seemed disinclined to refer again even indirectly to the subject which they had been discussing.