won't do long, so don't you think it. I'll be out and about before the day's over, and when I am I'll make things hum. Is my husband dead?"
"Your husband?"
"My husband! Are you deaf?"
"No, madam, not yet. So far age has not robbed me of my hearing. But to whom do you refer when you speak of your husband?"
There was that in the fashion in which he asked the question which caused her to clench her fists, tighten her lips and descend to vulgarity-unfortunately an easy descent for her to make when her temper waxed warm.
"What are you playing at? Do you think you're clever, or that I'm an utter fool? You're wrong if you do, you may take it from me. Is my husband, Cuthbert Grahame, dead? I've not been able to get an answer out of that old harridan, but I'll get one out of you."
"Then is Cuthbert Grahame your husband?"
"Is he! Isn't he? Didn't he marry me the other night in front of you and that old woman?"
"Have you a certificate or any writing to show it?"
"A certificate! What do I want with a certificate? You said nothing about a certificate! Look here, old man, don't you try to play any fool-tricks with me, or you'll be sorry. Are you trying to make out that he's not my husband?"
"Not at all; I am trying to do nothing. I should like to ask you a question, to which, before you answer it, I would suggest that you should give a little careful consideration. Would you rather be Cuthbert Grahame's wife or not?"
"I am his wife, and you very well know it, so it's no use talking, and that's enough said. I ask you again, is my husband dead?"
"Your husband? That is the point which I am gradually approaching. Mr. Cuthbert Grahame is not dead."
Her jaw dropped open.
"Not dead?"
"Not dead."
"But you told me-"
"Precisely; I am aware that I told you. You will, however, remember that I made an express reservation in favour of a miracle. The miracle has happened."
"How long will he live?"
"Madam, I am not omniscient. I have once, within your knowledge, failed as a prophet; I should not care to fail again."
"Is he dying?"
"I may venture to say that, at the present moment, to the best of my knowledge and belief, he is not."
"You are beating about the bush. You can at least say if he is likely to live long."
"It is possible, madam, that he may outlive me-even you."
"Then you have cheated me! – cheated me! You have got me into this mess by your lies."
"Any injustice I may have done you was unintentional. You will also be so good as to observe that I have just now offered you something which was intended to be in the nature of a loophole out of the dilemma in which you are placed."
"You mean when you asked me if I wanted to be his wife. Am I his wife, or am I not?"
"It might present a pretty point for the lawyers. If you had chosen to repudiate the connection, it might not have been easy to establish. Nannie and I can hold our tongues-that I beg you to believe. The occasion for a wife having passed, he might have preferred to hold his too."
"Would he rather be unmarried?"
"That is not a matter on which I should care to positively pronounce."
"Then why was he so eager?"
"I explained at the time. He had made a will in favour of a certain person, which he desired to render ineffective; marriage makes null and void any will which a man may have previously made; under the circumstances that seemed to be the easiest and the shortest way out of it. As matters have turned out the measure seems to have been a little drastic, since he can now, if he chooses, make a dozen new wills each day."
"Is he so far recovered as that?"
The doctor seemed desirous to consider before he answered. He put up his long, thin hand to stroke his bristly chin. Moving a few steps, he leaned over the foot of the bed, and from that point attentively regarded her.
"Madam, I do not wish to trouble you with the medical names of all the complicated diseases with which Mr. Grahame is afflicted. I am not sure that I am myself acquainted with them all; some of them puzzle even me. Among other troubles he is paralysed. He cannot move hand or foot of his own volition, or crook a finger. Again, straying into the paths of prophecy, I dare assert that he never will be able to. He has his senses-after a fashion; he is sane-also after a fashion. That is, he is legally capable of making a will, or of taking a wife. But if he desires to affix his signature to a document a pen will have to be placed between his fingers, his hand will have to be guided. To that extent he has recovered, beyond that he almost certainly will never go."
"But he is not dying?"
"No, madam, he is not dying."
"Nor likely to die?"
"No office would insure his life for four-and-twenty hours, though it is quite within the range of possibility that the breath may continue in his body for years. Such cases have been known. Some people death takes at the first call; some have to be called again and again; some seem to go beyond the portal and yet return. Cuthbert Grahame is one of them. He'll not go till death is very much in earnest; when that will be I cannot say. I mistook death's mood the other night-the oldest of us make such mistakes at times. In this case my mistake may seem to press a little hardly upon you."
She looked at him askance. There was a whimsical gravity in his tone which was a little beyond her comprehension, a something which was almost sympathetic. She changed the subject; a fresh intonation had come into her voice also.
"I wish you'd look at my foot. It's better. I think that before long I'll be able to get about again as usual. I want to very much; it's awful being a prisoner in bed. I'm not good at keeping still."
He did as she requested, then pronounced a verdict.
"Your foot is better-much better, as you say. There is no reason why you should not get up, though it may be some little time before you have the entire use of it again."
"At any rate I'll get out of bed-at once."
"And, then, what do you propose to do when you are up?"
"I'm going to see my husband."
"Your husband?"
"Can't I? Why can't I?"
"Mrs. Grahame! – if it is your wish that you should be Mrs. Grahame."
"Aren't I Mrs. Grahame? If I am, what's the good of pretending that I'm not? I am Mrs. Grahame, so there's an end of it."
"Mrs. Grahame, haven't you any friends?"
"What do you mean by friends?"
"Haven't you any relatives? Is there no one to whom you are near and dear? no one to whom you are in any sense responsible for your actions; with whom in a measure your happiness or unhappiness must be
