On the Saturday his condition remained the same; he was conscious but motionless, helpless, and, above all, speechless. So convinced was she that if he could only speak, if only some means could be found by which he could convey his thoughts to her, that he would be more at his ease, that she appealed to Dr. Banyard.
"Can nothing be done to restore to him the power of speech, if only for a few minutes?"
"I believe that I am doing all that medicine can do; you heard Sir Masterman say that he could do no more."
"Can you think of no way in which he can convey to us his meaning? I believe that he has something which he wishes very much to say--something on his mind; and that if he could only say it--get it off his mind--he would at least be happier."
The doctor eyed her shrewdly.
"Have you any notion what it is?"
"Not the slightest. If I had I might prompt him, and get at it that way. But my father has never been very communicative with me; I know nothing of his private affairs--absolutely nothing; I only know that he is my father."
"Have you any other relations?"
"So far as I know only an aunt, his sister. I have never seen her--I don't think they have been on good terms; I don't know her address; I believe she lives abroad."
"Had your mother no relations?"