After the stun of the blow came the realization of the consequences.
Susan would sit for hours trying patiently to recall and piece
together fragments of recollection and consciousness in her brother's
mind. She would let him go and pursue some senseless bit of play,
and wait until she could catch his eye or his attention again, when
she would resume her self-imposed task. Michael complained that she
never had a word for him, or a minute of time to spend with him now;
but she only said she must try, while there was yet a chance, to
bring back her brother's lost wits. As for marriage in this state of
uncertainty, she had no heart to think of it. Then Michael stormed,
and absented himself for two or three days; but it was of no use.
When he came back, he saw that she had been crying till her eyes were
all swollen up, and he gathered from Peggy's scoldings (which she did
not spare him) that Susan had eaten nothing since he went away. But
she was as inflexible as ever.

"Not just yet. Only not just yet. And don't say again that I do not
love you," said she, suddenly hiding herself in his arms.

And so matters went on through August. The crop of oats was gathered
in; the wheat-field was not ready as yet, when one fine day Michael
drove up in a borrowed shandry, and offered to take Willie a ride.
His manner, when Susan asked him where he was going to, was rather
confused; but the answer was straight and clear enough.

He had business in Ambleside. He would never lose sight of the lad,
and have him back safe and sound before dark. So Susan let him go.