As he stood there with his hand on the door, she opened her eyes and looked at him; but she did not change her attitude or address him.
Michael made up his mind that he must speak to her.
'I am sorry to see you look so ill, Mrs. Blake.'
He took her hand as he spoke; it felt weak and nerveless. But she drew it hastily away, and her forehead contracted.
'Of course I am ill.'
'I hope Biddy has sent for a doctor; I think you should see one without delay.'
But she shook her head.
'No doctor would do me any good. I would not see him if he came.'
Michael was silent; he hardly knew how he was to treat her. Mollie's graphic account of the scene last night had greatly alarmed him. Mrs. Blake was of a strangely excitable nature; he had been told that from her youth she had been prone to fits of hysterical emotion. She was perfectly unused to self-control, and only her son had ever exercised any influence over her. Was there not a danger, then, that, the barriers once broken down, she might pass beyond her own control? He had heard and had read that ungovernable passion might lead to insanity; he almost believed it, as he listened to Mollie's story. This is why he had insisted on seeing her. He must judge of her condition for himself; he must do his best to prevent the recurrence of such a scene. And now, as he saw her terrible exhaustion and the dim languor in her eyes, he told himself that something must be done for her relief.