The kind old doctor gave a long sigh. He hated this part of his business, and the braver people were, the more cruel he seemed to himself.
“No,” he said; “I think he would probably go off his head without it. One can’t tell, but I should fear that. You see, it is not the time for me to keep anything from you. And you are bearing it splendidly: you are bearing it in the way we are meant to bear these terrors of life. We may get white with pain, as you did just now, we may feel sick with the anguish of it all, but we ought still to be able to clench our teeth and not cry out. And, do you know, that is such a sound policy. Being brave carries its dividends quicker than any investment I know. For every effort of the sort that we make strengthens us, exactly as gymnastics strengthen our muscles.”
Something in this arrested her attention very strongly; for the moment she was led away from the thought of Thurso to another matter that concerned her quite as vitally. She turned round to him again.
“Do you mean that if—if we resist anything our powers of resistance are increased?” she asked. “Resistance seems to tire me, to make me less able to make an effort.”
Sir James took this in also; his eye, trained to observe obscurities, saw that for the moment she was not thinking of her husband.
“Temporarily it tires you,” he said, “just as exercise does. But you are really the stronger for it. The opposite holds, too, as you and I and poor Lord Thurso know very well; not to resist, to yield, weakens our power of resistance. The body is built up and made strong by effort, and so, I am sure, is the soul.”
She thought over that for a space of silence, noting down in her mind how it concerned that of which the doctor knew nothing.
“Tell me all you fear about Thurso,” she said. “I want to know what you think the end will be, and when, since I gather that, as far as you know, you regard him as incurable. I want to hear from you, quietly and fully, what I must bring myself to expect, the thoughts which I have got to get used to.”
“I have told you the worst,” he said, “and I think you understand it. But, more in detail, it will be this: He will be very weak for a few days, and will, of course, be in bed. But I fully expect that his recovery from this attack will be rapid, because he will be properly fed, and not allowed to make the smallest exertion, but chiefly because opium, which was the direct cause of it, will be cut off. As he gets stronger the craving will get stronger.”
“Then, you advise——”