I called her name involuntarily, I suppose, yet there was in my motive, too, a dim idea that the suggestion might in some way influence her to awaken as Joy, rather than as Edna. I did my best, meanwhile, to assist her to revive, fanning her with a newspaper and chafing her hands.
Long before she came to herself, however, there began a convulsive struggle that was one of the most terrible things I had to witness in all my experience with her. It was as if her two selves were fighting for supremacy, for the possession of her body, which was their battle-field. I could only wait helplessly for that fierce struggle gradually to expend itself in tremblings and in sighs, while I called her again and again, now with a definite idea of hypnotic suggestion. The conflict seemed to go on for a long, long time, though in point of fact it lasted, I think, only a few minutes. At the end, she drew a long, deep breath, relaxed, and opened her eyes. Almost immediately she was overcome by a violent nausea, and, attending to her and soothing her, it was some time before we knew with whom we had to deal. Her first words reassured me.
"Chester!" she exclaimed, "you've come back! I'm so glad, but I'm terrified—what has happened?"
I kissed her, kneeling on the floor beside her, stroking her hand. "Don't worry, dear," I said, "it's all right now."
She started up with a glad look on her face, misinterpreting my words.
"Oh, is it finished, then? Have we won? Is Edna driven away for ever?"
I had to tell her that it was not yet even begun, but that, God willing, I should soon be ready to put my plan to the test. She was disheartened and discouraged at that; it was as if she had gone through an unsuccessful operation, she was so exhausted and fearful, but in the end I succeeded in reassuring her somewhat, and she was restored to calmness and courage to bear the suspense. As soon as she felt better we went outdoors for a while, and the fresh, cool air brought back her spirits. There I told her just what had happened, and what we had to expect. Then, as I had eaten nothing since morning, I went back with her to the dining-room and we had supper with Leah.
"Chester," she said, "you've said enough to make me afraid of what you intend to do. I can't yet be sure that we have the right to destroy Edna. And I must be surer that Doctor Copin has betrayed me. I've known him too long to let him go without proving it. I must see him and have a talk with him first; then, if I am thoroughly convinced, you may go ahead. But I want to know just what it is you intend to do."
There, at least, I stood firm. "I hope you'll never find out," I said. "I intend to cut out the cancer—that's enough for you to know. But, as to the doctor, I'm positively afraid to trust you with him. And yet, it would be well to know just what he's up to. He may come to-morrow morning, too, which will prevent my doing anything, whether it's you or Edna who is here. And I can't risk the chance of being interrupted. He may not come, however, as he'll naturally expect you to be here to-morrow, unless Edna's making faster progress than she has heretofore. And even if I could put you to sleep now, Uncle Jerdon's being in the house will prevent my acting."
It was here that Leah put in the first suggestion that she had volunteered.