“Then you think I am right?” are the first words I hear, in Sir James’s voice.
“Quite right,” the doctor answers.
“I have done my best to make him change his dull way of life,” Sir James proceeds. “I have asked him to pay a visit to my house in Scotland; I have proposed traveling with him on the Continent; I have offered to take him with me on my next voyage in the yacht. He has but one answer—he simply says No to everything that I can suggest. You have heard from his own lips that he has no definite plans for the future. What is to become of him? What had we better do?”
“It is not easy to say,” I hear the physician reply. “To speak plainly, the man’s nervous system is seriously deranged. I noticed something strange in him when he first came to consult me about his mother’s health. The mischief has not been caused entirely by the affliction of her death. In my belief, his mind has been—what shall I say?—unhinged, for some time past. He is a very reserved person. I suspect he has been oppressed by anxieties which he has kept secret from every one. At his age, the unacknowledged troubles of life are generally troubles caused by women. It is in his temperament to take the romantic view of love; and some matter-of-fact woman of the present day may have bitterly disappointed him. Whatever may be the cause, the effect is plain—his nerves have broken down, and his brain is necessarily affected by whatever affects his nerves. I have known men in his condition who have ended badly. He may drift into insane delusions, if his present course of life is not altered. Did you hear what he said when we talked about ghosts?”
“Sheer nonsense!” Sir James remarks.
“Sheer delusion would be the more correct form of expression,” the doctor rejoins. “And other delusions may grow out of it at any moment.”
“What is to be done?” persists Sir James. “I may really say for myself, doctor, that I feel a fatherly interest in the poor fellow. His mother was one of my oldest and dearest friends, and he has inherited many of her engaging and endearing qualities. I hope you don’t think the case is bad enough to be a case for restraint?”
“Certainly not—as yet,” answers the doctor. “So far there is no positive brain disease; and there is accordingly no sort of reason for placing him under restraint. It is essentially a difficult and a doubtful case. Have him privately looked after by a competent person, and thwart him in nothing, if you can possibly help it. The merest trifle may excite his suspicions; and if that happens, we lose all control over him.”
“You don’t think he suspects us already, do you, doctor?”
“I hope not. I saw him once or twice look at me very strangely; and he has certainly been a long time out of the room.”