She saw him with the bodily organs of her vision,
but the picture of him was conveyed no further: there was a blank wall
behind her eyes.
Michael did not hesitate. It was possible that he still might be
something to her, that he, his presence, might penetrate.
"But you are not resting, mother," he said. "Why are you sitting up? I
came to talk to you, as I said I would, while you rested."
Suddenly into those blank, irresponsive eyes there leaped recognition.
He saw the pupils contract as they focused themselves on him, and hand
in hand with recognition there leaped into them hate. Instantly that
was veiled again. But it had been there, and now it was not banished; it
lurked behind in the shadows, crouching and waiting.
She answered him at once, but in a voice that was quite toneless. It
seemed like that of a child repeating a lesson which it had learned by
heart, and could be pronounced while it was thinking of something quite
different.
"I was waiting till you came, my dear," she said. "Now I will lie down.
Come and sit by me, Michael."
She watched him narrowly while she spoke, then gave a quick glance at
her nurse, as if to see that they were not making signals to each other.
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