"The fear is that you may never wholly get the use of your limbs again. You are getting better, and you will be able to walk soon, I hope, with the help of a stick; but you must make up your mind to lead a quiet life and be more or less of an invalid."
"Rubbish! I won't make up my mind to it. I will resist with all the power that is in my body against such a verdict. I shall go to Harrogate. I have seen cripples cured there. I shall go abroad to the baths. I will travel all over the world before I'll lie down under such an infamous assertion."
"You see, you cannot do the cures because of the weakness of your heart."
Mrs. Burke laughed scornfully.
"So this old molly of a doctor says. Now make arrangements for the best specialist on rheumatism to come down and see me. I will make him tell me a different tale to that. Write at once, Rowena; don't lose a post."
"But," said Rowena, with a little helpless laugh, "whom can I write to? I must ask Dr. Hole to give me the name of one."
"Telephone to the little wretch at once, then."
Rowena went to the telephone in the hall. She came back presently with the name of a specialist, and as Mrs. Burke happened to know of him, he was summoned at once.
In two days' time he arrived. But he could not give her much hope.
"If you were ten years younger, madam, you would have a better chance. As it is, time may be kind to you, and you may to a great extent get the better of the disease. I should hope for it, if I were you; and you will find that you can still enjoy life quietly and peacefully."