I took it that she had already heard from Leah of what had happened yesterday and I could not help admiring her calmness and self-restraint. The last thing, of course, that she could remember would be her anguish of two days when we were all so agitated over Leah's absence and dramatic return, and that weary vigil in the library trying to keep awake. Joy was used to these lapses; she had been so long schooled by her changes that she was usually poised outwardly and calm, ready for any emergency, on her guard against betraying surprise; but I could not help picturing to myself the nervous excitement of her awakening when her memory first rushed back and she had to learn hurriedly the history of the day before. How much, I wondered, had Leah told her?
Her attitude toward Doctor Copin, while quite that of an old friend, was so different from what it had been the night before that he must have felt somewhat uncomfortable at my seeing it. Of any such difference Joy was herself quite unconscious, but the interest she plainly showed in me served to heighten it. She was still full of gratitude toward me for what I had done in bringing Leah back—the doctor, on the other hand, was only making one of his periodical calls; she was anticipating, also, his urging again his request to give her a definite course of treatment, a thing she had steadily opposed. He came, as I understood it, only to keep track of her disorder in a general way, and to advise her with regard to it; and it was, so far, more because she had not enough confidence in his proficiency in this special subject, rather than any innate distrust of his character, that had impelled her to refuse a course of hypnotic treatment.
His elaborate wit failed to receive much encouragement from Joy. The conversation was, therefore, a little stiff for some time, and resulted finally in a dialogue between Joy and me, the doctor maintaining a silence almost surly.
After breakfast, however, she took him into the library for a short colloquy before it was time for him to leave. I waited outdoors. They came out in a few minutes, she, I saw, a little disturbed, a frown on her face. Uncle Jerdon drove up in the carriage and the doctor got in, bade us a conventional farewell, and was carried off.
We sat there for a while without talk, Joy gazing straight ahead of her, absorbed in her own thoughts. Then she turned to me and said:
"Edna is coming oftener than she used to. I don't like it!"
"Did you speak of it to the doctor?"
"Yes. He tried to reassure me. But I'm still uneasy. It was bad enough before, to lose two days a week, but if I'm to be robbed of half my time, it will be unbearable."
"Did you ask him if he thought he could prevent it, in any way?"
"Yes, and he asked me again to let him hypnotize me."