“I will not leave you; and if I can, I’ll bring you back to health.”
“Yes,” said Scarlett, shuddering. “And you will not let them drag me away. Jack!—Kate has been planning it with Arthur—an asylum—and I dare not speak, I should be so violent, and make it worse.”
“You shan’t be dragged away, old man, and you need not fancy that any such plans are being made.”
“Even if it came to the worst,” said Scarlett pitifully, “you could keep me down. O Jack, I could not bear it; I’d sooner die!”
“Let me speak out at once, my dear boy,” said the doctor. “The terrible shock to your nerves has made you so weak that you fancy all these things. It is the natural outcome of such a state as yours. Now, listen: you said you would believe me.”
“Yes, yes; and I will.”
“I am glad you have spoken. I knew all this; but I am not sorry you indorsed it. You are haunted by a horrible dread that you are about to lose your reason.”
“Yes,” moaned Scarlett; “and it is so hard—so hard!”
“Then you may take this comfort to your heart: you are not in the slightest degree likely to become insane; and, what is more, I am as good as certain that, sooner or later, you will recover your health.”
“Jack!”