Neil Elthorne was in his father's room when Nurse Elisia returned from
her walk, looking agitated and strange. He had found the old man
fretful and impatient, full of complaints about the way in which he was
neglected by those who ought, he said, to respect and love him all the
more for his illness.
"You all have an idea that I am weak and helpless," he cried; "but it is
a mistake. I am a little weak, but quite able to manage the affairs of
my house."
"Of course you are, sir," said Neil.
Elthorne turned upon him fiercely.
"Don't speak to me again like that, sir," he cried. "Do you think I
want to be humoured like a child?"
Neil made no reply, but let his father finish his complaint, knowing
that he would drop asleep afterward, and awaken refreshed and forgetful
of all he had said.
He was sleeping peacefully as a child when the nurse entered the room,
to stop near the door as she saw that Neil was present.
"Has Mr Elthorne wanted me, sir?" she said, ignoring the scene which
had taken place a short time before.
"No; and if he had," replied Neil bitterly, "He would have been quite
willing to wait until you had kept your appointment."
The words seemed to come in spite of Neil's efforts to stay them; and as
he finished the blood tingled in his cheeks, and he mentally writhed as
he saw the look of calm, cold contempt directed at him.
"It was Mr Elthorne's wish, and your own, that I should go for a walk,
sir," she said gravely.
"To meet my brother?"
She gazed at him half sorrowfully.
"I certainly did meet your brother, sir," she said; and then stopped
short as if scorning to offer any explanation to him, while he stood
with his teeth set, wishing that he could have bitten off his tongue
before he had stooped to make himself so contemptible and petty in her
eyes.
There was a pause for a few moments, and then the nurse spoke.
"Mr Elthorne," she said, "will you be good enough to set me free?
Another nurse could do my duties, and I wish now to return to the
hospital."
"Return? You know it is impossible," he said. "The consequences to my
father would be most serious. You know that as well as I."
She turned to the patient, and looked at him sadly for a few moments.
"You need not be afraid," he said coldly. "I shall not address you
again. It was a mad dream, and is at an end. I have been awakened at
last."
He left the room, feeling as if he could hardly contain his anger as he
asked himself whether other men could be as weak, and if this was all
the strength of mind and dignity he had achieved by his years of patient
study.
"I spoke to her like some spiteful schoolgirl," he muttered, as he
reached the library, and then threw himself into a chair. "What must
she have thought? How could I lower myself so in her eyes?"
He had hardly left his father's room when there was a quick, soft tap at
the door, and as the nurse rose to open it, Isabel appeared.
Her eyes were red as if she had been weeping lately, and she made a few
hurried steps toward the couch, and then turned angrily upon the nurse,
as a hand was laid upon her arm.
"How dare you?" she cried. "I must and I will speak to papa."
"I dare," said Nurse Elisia, smiling, "because he must not be awakened
suddenly."
"You always say that," cried Isabel; but she lowered her voice. "I
must--I will speak to him now."
"Hush, my child!" whispered Nurse Elisia; "you are angry and hysterical
from some trouble. Do not blame me, dear. You know it is my duty to
watch over him and save him from every shock."
"But you try to keep us apart. You try to be mistress here in
everything. You try to--"
"No, no, no," said Nurse Elisia gently, as she passed her arm about the
excited girl's waist, and drew her toward the other door, while Isabel
struggled to free herself, but only faintly, and as if a stronger will
was mastering hers.
"Come with me to my room," was whispered in her ear, and then, sobbing
weakly, she suffered herself to be led through the other door into the
little place devoted to the nurse, where she sank into an easy-chair,
covered her face with her hands, and sobbed as if her heart would break.
Nurse Elisia stood gazing down at her pityingly for a few moments, and
then sank upon her knees and drew the half resisting little figure
toward her, as it was evident that poor Isabel was fighting hard to keep
from bursting out into a paroxysm of hysterical cries.
"My poor motherless child!" she whispered; "what have I done that you
should insist upon treating me as your enemy?"
"Always--if I wish to go to papa--" panted Isabel with childish
vehemence.
"No, no, no, my darling," whispered the nurse, as if she were trying to
soothe some passionate child. "If you think a moment you will see that
I only obey my orders. It is to give him perfect rest that nature may
strengthen and restore him to you, his child. Come, come, tell me--what
is the great trouble? You cannot understand, but I want to be your
friend."
"You--you!" cried Isabel, looking up angrily, as she wrested herself
away, and her eyes flashed; but as she gazed on the patient face so
close to hers, and saw that the beautiful eyes which looked pityingly in
hers were also clouded with tears, her mood changed, and she flung her
arms about the nurse's neck, and buried her face in her breast.
"I am so wretched--so unhappy!" she cried.
"Yes, yes, as if I could not see and feel it," whispered Elisia.
"There, there," she continued, as she drew the yielding form closer to
her breast, and smoothed and caressed the soft, fair hair, till Isabel's
sobs grew fewer, and she looked up half wonderingly, and then clung to
her more tightly as Elisia bent down and kissed her lovingly.
"There," she whispered, "was that the kiss of an enemy?"
"No, no, no," cried Isabel. "I did not mean it. I tried not to say it,
but you seem to--seem to--oh, pray don't think of what I said!"
"I shall not. I did not mind, for I felt that some day you would know
the truth. How could you think that I would be anyone's enemy! It is
my misfortune that I am not liked. I have tried to satisfy your aunt,
but she resents my presence here."
"Yes," said Isabel naively, as she clung more closely to her comforter.
"She thinks you are taking her place, and that--"
She stopped short.
"Yes, dear," said her companion gently; "and--what?"
"I cannot tell you."
"Then I will tell you, dear," said Elisia sadly. "She thinks that I am
a deceitful, scheming woman, who tries to lead your brothers astray from
the path your father has mapped out for them."
"Yes," said Isabel faintly. "How did you know?"
Elisia smiled.
"Because I am a woman who has seen much of the world, though I am not so
very much older than you. Isabel dear," she whispered, as she held the
girl's cheek close to her own, which now burned, "I want you to trust
me. I want you to believe me when I tell you that it is not true."
"I do believe you," cried Isabel ingenuously, as she turned and kissed
her. "Indeed--indeed I do."
"I know it, and I feel as if you would always have liked me, only there
has been this baseless misunderstanding. Now that is all past, dear,
and you are going to trust me. Tell me what is the trouble." Isabel
shook her head.
"There is no need. Forgive me if I trespass on delicate ground, dear,
and say that it is because this little heart is very sore."
Isabel tried to escape, but very feebly, and the sore little heart began
to throb as she was held firmly to another which beat more rapidly than
was its wont.
"I cannot help understanding a good deal," was whispered to her gently.
"I have not sought to know, but it has come to me. Come, dear, be
frank, and let me help you as one who loves you. Yes," she continued,
as she saw the wondering look directed at her; "the little heart is sore
because of tender little passages with one who is now crossing the
seas."
"Oh!" sighed Isabel, who fluttered a little as if to escape.
"Yes; that is so," whispered the nurse; "and now, with poor papa's
wishes to back it up, there has come temptation in the way."
"Temptation?"
"Yes, dear, with a title and wealth; and is the heart core because it is
yielding to circumstances, and trying to forget the absent one who will
not be forgotten?"
"Yes," sighed Isabel, "and it is so hard."
"Harder for him to return, and see the girl he loved my Lady Burwood."
"But he shall not," cried Isabel passionately. "I would sooner die!"
"Ah!"
A long drawn, catching sigh, but not of agony, for there was a restful
satisfaction in its tone, and for a few minutes there was utter silence
in the room.
"Then you do not care for Sir Cheltnam's tender words?" said Elisia at
last.
"No, no! I hate him!" cried the girl. "He knows so well about poor
Tom, and he laughs at it all, and says it was a boy and girl love, and
that this is my father's wish."
"Yes?"
"And no matter what I say, or how I behave, he persecutes me with his
addresses. It is dreadful. Poor papa has promised him that I shall be
his wife, and he treats me as if I were his own--as if he were my
master--till I feel as if I wish I were dead."
"So as to break the poor trusting sailor's heart?"
"No, no, no," cried Isabel piteously; "don't, don't say that."
"Then never say those foolish, wicked words again, dear."
"But I am so wretched," sighed Isabel. "I have wanted again and again
to see and talk to papa--to beg him to speak to Sir Cheltnam, and tell
him that I have tried so hard to do what he wishes, but that I cannot--
indeed, I cannot--though he has set his mind upon it all just as he has
upon my brothers marrying Saxa and Dana Lydon and--and," she cried
passionately, "they don't care for them a bit." There was another long
pause, during which Isabel wept bitterly.
"What shall I do?" she cried at last, gazing piteously in the other's
face.
"Wait, dear."
"But Sir Cheltnam?"
"You must try and avoid him till your father has recovered his strength,
and can bear to hear adverse matters."
"But if I saw him, and spoke to him gently, and appealed to him?"
"In his condition anything like opposition might bring on a serious
attack, dear. Even trifles make him so angry that your brother fears he
may sometime have a fit. He is in a very precarious state, Isabel, and
a serious matter like this might--I hardly dare tell you what might
happen. Come; you said you would trust me. I will help you."
"But Sir Cheltnam? My aunt thinks she is doing right, and encourages
him to come and torture me. What shall I do?"
"Wait and trust to me?"
"But it so hard."
"Hush! There is someone in the next room." Elisia rose, and entered
the bedchamber.
"Oh, you are there," said Aunt Anne shortly. "I am quite sure that my
poor brother ought not to be left alone so long."
"I was in the next room, madam, and if he had spoken a word I should
have heard him directly," said the nurse softly.
"It does not seem like it, for I have been here some time."
"Excuse me, Mrs Barnett, Mr Elthorne must not be awakened suddenly."
"What do you mean?"
"Speak lower, if you please, ma'am."
"Really!" cried Aunt Anne, "this is growing insufferable! My good
woman, you quite forget your position here. Are you aware that I am
your senior by many years, and have had great experience in a sick
room?"
"Possibly, madam. I am not doubting what you say. I am only going by
the instructions I received from Sir Denton Hayle. Mr Elthorne must be
saved from everything likely to produce a nervous shock." Aunt Anne
looked her up and down with indignant scorn, and then marched--it could
hardly be called walking, the movement was so mechanical and studied--
straight to the door, and went out without a word.
"Poor woman!" said Nurse Elisia, softly; "and yet she is a sweet,
amiable lady at heart."
She went back to the dressing room to tell Isabel that her aunt had
gone, but the room was empty.