“Oh, my God! yes.  I try to bear it.”  His eyes filled.  “Is it too late?”

“No,” said Askew, “it is not.”  What doubt he had he put aside.

“Then we will see to-morrow.”

“An operation!” said Ann, alarmed.  A look conquered her.  “You will do, James, whatever Dr. Askew wishes?”

“I will—­but don’t make me talk any more, Ann—­my head aches.”

Askew rose.  “Please to send up the Drs. McGregor.  May I make use of another room?”

“Yes, of course.”

Ann Penhallow found Dr. Tom and his father on the porch with Leila and John.  She said, “Take the doctors up to my own room, Leila, and I want to talk with John—­there are some arrangements to make.”

Leila, guiltily conscious of her share in securing the surgeon’s interview with her aunt, was glad to accept the hint and the chance to escape.

Ann sat down beside John, and said, “John, why did you trick me into a talk with Dr. Askew?”

“Because, aunt, you said you would not see him—­and it was necessary.”

“You took me too literally.”

“I took you at your word—­something had to be done.  If it fails, we are no worse off.”

“But it may fail—­oh! what if it does, John.”

“Aunt Ann, I am in despair.  Listen to me; no, I must talk it out.  The agreement with uncle’s old partners ended with the war.  Things at the mills are in confusion—­what is to be done?  I asked Uncle Jim to give me a power of attorney to act for him.  He refused.  You supported him.  Delay is ruinous, and yet we can do nothing.  You are vexed with me—­Yes—­you have not given me my morning kiss for days.  Leila is unreasonably angry with me because that dreadful night I did the only thing possible in my power to stop my uncle.  I am most unhappy.  I sometimes think I had better go away and look for work as an engineer, and—­you did love me once.”  He rose and walked up and down the porch silent; he had emptied mind and heart.  Then he paused before her.  She was crying, as she said, “Don’t reproach me, John—­I can’t bear it—­I have had to bear too much to-day—­and you were so naughty.”  He leaned over and kissed her forehead.  “John,” she said, “there is to be an operation to-morrow.  It is terrible.  May the good God be kind to him and us.  Now go away—­I want to be alone.  See that Dr. Askew is well cared for.”

“Certainly, Aunt Ann.”  He had won his battle.

At dinner the doctor was at pains to dispel the gloom which, as he well knew, falls on those who love when one of the critical hours of life approaches.  When they left the table he went into the library with the doctors and John, where they smoked many pipes and talked war.