There was something so childlike in this that it almost overcame the woman's steadily guarded calm. She had been warned to be careful that there should be no excitement to agitate a mind which was slowly groping its way out of the shadows of half-illumined memories.
"Oh, my dear James," she said quietly, "talk of war or anything; it is over." Despite her cautious command of her voice it trembled with emotion as she said, "Nothing is of any moment but you—you. What do I care for the war or—or anything but to have you as you were? Oh, my God! I am thankful."
It disturbed him, as she saw. He felt and looked puzzled as he said, "I see—I am not quite clear-headed yet, Ann."
"No, but you will be. Don't try too hard, James. We must be patient and wait."
"I will—I will—and it is such a relief to have no pain and to see you."
Then as he asked about Leila and the mill work, the younger doctor came in and said, "Time is up, Mrs. Penhallow."
"What—already, Tom?"
"But I want to know more," said the Colonel. "Wasn't there a rummage-sale—"
"Yes; but now you must let Mrs. Penhallow go. You are mending daily. To-morrow Mrs. Penhallow may come again, and there will be to-morrow, and many happy to-morrows." She went out and downstairs singing in a low sweet voice—a long lost habit.
If to watch with an aching heart the hopeless decay of a mind be the most distressing of all human trials, surely there can be few greater joys than to see a disordered intellect emerge day by day into possession of its long lost capacities. James Penhallow was soon able to sign a power of attorney enabling John to reconstruct the old partnership with his own name added to the firm.