“In what way?” queried the doctor.
“I mean that if she had—er—totally lost her—the use of her eyes—for all time, could you be certain of that or not? Or can you give us any reason to hope that the very fact of your not understanding the nature of the case points to her getting over it?”
“Ah,” said the doctor, “I’m not going to be so unfair to you as to say that. I will say emphatically that she has not absolutely hopelessly lost her sight. The nerves are not dead. This green veil may be lifted, possibly, as suddenly as it fell; but I am talking to men, and I want you to understand that I can give no idea as to when that may be. I pray that it may be soon—very soon.”
“I’m glad you’re so straightforward about it, Whitehouse,” said the old man, as he sank into a chair. “I don’t need to be buoyed up by any false hopes. You can understand that it is a very terrible blow to Mr. Ewart and myself.”
“I can indeed,” said the doctor solemnly. “I brought her into the world, you know. It is a tragic shock to me. I’ll get back now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a very serious case in the village, but I’ll be over first thing in the morning, and I’ll bring you a small bottle of something with me. You’ll need it with this anxiety.”
“Nonsense, Whitehouse,” declared the General stoutly. “I’m perfectly all right. There’s nothing at all the matter with me. I don’t need any of your begad slush.”
“Now, my dear friend,” said the medical man cunningly, “it’s my business to look ahead. In the next few days you’ll be too anxious to eat, so I’m going to bring you something that will simply stimulate your appetite and make you want to eat. It’s not good for any man to go without his meals, especially when that man’s getting on for sixty.”
“Thank ye, my dear fellow,” said the old man, more graciously. “I’m sorry to be such a boor, but I thought you meant some begad tonic.” The General was getting on for seventy; to be exact, he was sixty-nine—he married at forty-six—and when the medicine came he took it, “because, after all, it was begad decent of Whitehouse to have thought of it.”
I spent a miserable night. I went to bed early, and lay awake till daybreak. The hideous nightmare of the green ray kept me awake for many nights to come. The General agreed with me that we must waste no time, and it was arranged that we should take Myra up to London the next day.
“You know, Ronald,” said the old man to me as we sat together after the mockery that would otherwise have been an excellent dinner, “I was particularly glad to see you to-day. I’ve been very worried about—well, about myself lately. I had an extraordinary experience the other day which I should never dare to relate to anyone whom I could not absolutely rely on to believe me. I’ve been fidgeting for the last month or two, and that window that you say you saw to-day has got very much on my nerves. I’ve been imagining that it’s a heliograph from an enemy encampment. Simply nerves, of course; but nerves ought not to account for extraordinary optical delusions or hallucinations.”