Nurse Elisia Part 25

"Am I so helpless? Have I no will, and do I really love this woman after all?"

He paused, gazing back along the pa.s.sage to where he could see the dim reflection of the lamp in the hall, and as he stood there, the faintly heard voice of Nurse Elisia came once more to his ear. He drew a long, deep breath, and then, half aloud:

"I had not calculated on this," he thought. "I fled from the temptation, and it has followed me here. And she--she has never given me a second thought." He turned the handle quickly, and entered the room.

"Ah, that is right, Neil," said Aunt Anne. "Will you stay here while I take nurse to have some supper? She says she is not too tired to sit up to-night."

"Absurd!" said Neil, in a low, harsh voice. "After this long journey?

Nurse, you will go with Mrs Barnett, and have some refreshment; then get to bed, and come and relieve me about seven."

"But, my dear Neil, you, too, want rest," said Aunt Anne.

"Aunt, be good enough not to interfere," replied Neil shortly. "Nurse Elisia, you heard my orders."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, very well, my dear," said Aunt Anne, in an ill-used tone. "I suppose you know best. This way, nurse."

Neil stood watching them as they left the room, and turned back toward the bed with a sigh of relief.

"I have not lost my strength of mind, then, after all," he muttered, as he drew himself up. "I will master it."

There was a faint glow in his pale cheeks as he spoke, but it died out at once, leaving him haggard-looking and careworn, and his face grew set and his eyes dark as he stood gazing straight before him, seeing neither the bed nor the wall beyond, but the scene upon the stairs of the pale, white face lit up by the caudle, while, a short distance below, stood Alison, gazing up from the darkness.

Neil shuddered, closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again they fell upon the sleeping figure before him. And as he looked down it was not with the eyes of man of science but of the son, thinking of his father's plans. They had been children, and he had planned their education according to an eccentric whim of his own; youths, and he had princ.i.p.ally chosen their career; they had reached manhood, and he had settled who were to be the companions of their lives. And as he thought, the faces of Saxa Lydon and her sister, followed by Sir Cheltnam Burwood, floated out of the mental mist, and complication after complication arose.

It was a dreary vigil, for Neil Elthorne was half worn out from broken nights and a long period of great anxiety, which had culminated in the arrival of the nurse; but not once through that long night did he feel the desire to sleep, and he could hardly realise the fact that it was morning, but stared and looked at her wildly when the door opened, and light shone in that was that of the morning sun, throwing up the pale, calm face of Nurse Elisia, who entered as if she were perfectly used to the place, and bearing for his special use a small tray, upon which were dry toast and tea.

Neil rose as she entered, with a whispered "Good-morning," and he felt that he was trembling, and that he was only man, with all his weaknesses, in spite of his stubborn resolves. But he was himself again directly, as she spoke.

"The patient, sir," she whispered; "has he pa.s.sed a quiet night?"

"Yes, quite," said Neil.

"May I open one of the windows--that farthest from the bed, sir? The room is oppressive and faint."

"Yes, yes; of course;" he said hastily, and he hurried out of the room.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

AWKWARD ENCOUNTERS.

"Oh, really, Sir Cheltnam, I would a great deal rather you waited till my brother is better," said Aunt Anne, who seemed rather concerned about the sit of a couple of folds in her dress.

"Waited till he is better?" said the baronet, smiling.

"Well, you know what I mean. It is such an important thing that I really don't like to interfere."

"I would not ask you but I cannot ask Mr Elthorne. Wait? Oh, yes; I should be willing to wait, only, with all due respect to you, my dear Mrs Barnett, is it not rather indefinite?"

"Oh, dear me, I'm afraid so."

"And time is going on. You see, I do not want to be exacting, but I should like to find rather a warmer welcome when I come, and to be asked more frequently. It is Mr Elthorne's wishes."

"Yes, yes, of course; I know that. But Isabel is very young."

"It makes her the more attractive."

"Well, I suppose so. There, Sir Cheltnam, I'm a plain woman, and I'll speak out. I'm afraid she has been thinking a good deal about Mr Beck."

"Of course; but that is all over now. Mr Elthorne did not approve of it, and when I spoke to him, he told me that it was one of the great desires of his heart. Then came that terrible accident, and since then, you see, I have been quite left out in the cold. Come, now, Mrs Barnett, I do not wish to puff myself, but you must own that I can offer her everything that will insure her a happy future."

"Oh, yes; I know all that," said Aunt Anne. "Then play the part of friend to us both."

"What can I do?"

"A thousand things that a clever diplomatic woman, like yourself, can contrive admirably. Of course I know all about the Beck business, and what did I do? Show annoyance? Not a bit. I said, `It is a young girl's first fancy, but one that she will soon forget. I'll wait;' and I have waited, but now it is time I was recognised a little by the young lady."

"But her time is so taken up with attending to her father."

"No, Mrs Barnett; I say little, but I see much. The nurse takes all that off her shoulders I believe."

"Oh, yes, very attentive, and that sort of thing; but I shall be very glad when she is gone."

"Naturally. But come, now--you will help me?"

"Well, well; I'll do all I can."

"I knew you would. Give me more of a _carte blanche_ to come and go."

"But you are here a great deal now."

"Yes, as a formal visitor. Come, now, Mrs Barnett; if this were another establishment, and you a stranger and saw me here from time to time, would you ever imagine that dear Isabel and I were engaged?"

"Well--er--no."

"Of course you would not. There, I need not say any more; I am quite satisfied. Is she with her father now?"

"No; I think she is down the garden."

Sir Cheltnam smiled, bent forward, took and kissed the lady's hand.

"Thank you," he said, with a meaning smile; and he rose from the lounge in the drawing room where the above conversation had taken place, and turned toward the French window which opened out upon the lawn.

"No, no, really, Sir Cheltnam. I did not mean that."

"My dear Mrs Barnett--"

"Oh, very well; I suppose it's quite right. It was her father's wish."