The tears were in his eyes as he led me into Elsie's room.
Tammas and Marget were by the bed. Elsie lay amid her pillows, a strange startled look in her eyes.
"You and the old people, Jack," whispered the doctor, rising and taking Goff by the arm, "you all just talk to her, get her back to the dairy and the old ways again, if you can. If she can be quieted and her mind bridged over the shock, she'll be all right again. And to-night will tell," he added quietly, "so be very calm. I have given her all the morphine she'll stand, tried everything, but if she can't be made to sleep she'll lose her mind and if she doesn't sleep to-night her mind is doomed."
I was not certain, but I had always suspected that I possessed the power of suggestion. I had felt it in dealing with dumb animals and weaker people.
I sat by her, talking to her in the old way. "It is Jack, Elsie," I said, "your own Jack. We've met in our old trysting place. We are under our old trees, and Tammas and Marget are here and you are tired and are going to sleep while your head is on my lap. I'll watch you sleep—sleep now," I said softly, stroking her forehead.
There was a deep sigh, then the frightened wild look died out of her eyes and with a smile like her old one she slept.
The doctor beckoned me. "That's good," he said in the hallway. "Just let the nurse and Marget stay with her, let her sleep all night if she will."
"But I will have to waken her," I said.
He smiled. "Oh no; she'll waken herself."
"I'll stay here all night, Colonel Goff," I assured her father.