Maud started. She had been sitting huddled over the fire for what seemed like countless ages, listening with straining nerves to every sound overhead and sometimes shrinking and trembling at what she heard. Jake had gone out long since to the stables, and she had been thankful to see him go. His very presence was intolerable to her just then.
At the sound of Capper's voice she turned an ashen face. "Say, now," he said, in a tone of kindly chiding, "you've been scaring yourself, Mrs. Bolton; and if that's not the silliest game under the sun, you may call me a nigger."
She rose to receive him, trying to force her quivering lips to practical speech. But she could only articulate, "I heard him cry out several times. Does he want me?"
"Not yet," said Capper. He laid a very steady hand upon her shoulder. "Leave him alone for a little! He'll pull himself together best alone. He's got the spunk all right."
She stood still under his hand, piteously awaiting the information for which she could not bring herself to ask. He was looking at her keenly, she knew; but she could not face his look. She could have been strong had strength been essential, but the need for it seemed to have gone.
Bunny no longer leaned upon her sustaining love.
"Come, now, I want a straight talk with you," the great doctor said. "I want to understand your point of view if you will be gracious enough to expound it to me."
She made a pathetic attempt to laugh. "Do you think you can cure him, Doctor?" she said.
Capper laughed too with a species of grim exultation. "Is that what troubles you? If that's all, I guess I can soon set your mind at rest. I can cure him absolutely--within three months. But I shall want your co-operation. Can I count on that?"
His hand pressed upon her with something of insistence. His yellow face looked searchingly, with an odd elation into hers. She met his look reluctantly, and became dominated by it.