Again the man by her side was baffled. Of late his brusque announcements had perceptibly softened. To-day, knowing as only a physician does, the tragedy of certain marital relations, this woman's great love rebuked his ruthless plan. Still he must speak, make a professional edict clear. "But you are not to accompany your husband," he abruptly told her. "You might undo the work of weeks, make the patient's ultimate recovery doubtful."
His words came hard, plain. Isabel sat stunned and silent.
"Philip Barry will come back from his voyage another man," the doctor deliberately promised. "And the separation will not be as hard as it now seems. After the fight for your husband's life and reason you may feel that we are about to conquer. Tahiti—the isle of rest—will restore him wholly."
Isabel did not answer. Only tightly clasped hands betrayed her agitation. The doctor went on:
"I have taken the voyage to Tahiti myself. Five years ago I was a nervous wreck when I sailed from San Francisco. Twenty-one days later, when I landed at the Society Islands, at Tahiti, I was a new man. Weeks on the water, without a word from the world behind me had worked a miracle. On the upper deck of the comfortable little ship I forgot my troubles through pure joy of existence. All day long I rested body and brain. With evening the blood-red sun plunged into a molten sea. Then blue sky suddenly changed to violet, and deepening shadow brought out the stars—the Southern Cross. I began to feel like a different person."
An eloquent outburst awakened no response. The doctor saw that he must speak decidedly. His next words fell with brutal authority.
"Your husband must be made ready to start for San Francisco at once. A boat leaves Port Los Angeles day after to-morrow. It is best that our patient should avoid the train, and in going by water he will have half a day and a night to rest in some good hotel. The ship sails at noon,—on the seventeenth."
He was beginning to think that Mrs. Barry's silence meant compliance. Resignation seemed to be a part of her marvelous character. And at last she unclasped her hands, pressing them before her eyes. But he heard her gently sobbing.
"Don't!" he humbly entreated. "You must not forget what I have promised. You shall have your husband back—well! He will put all behind him! forget everything but his wife."
She did not answer. Dr. Judkin waited until her hands left her eyes. Then she began to speak with fresh determination.