"No, no!" panted Elthorne, in a low, husky voice. "Stop! Don't ring!
Better--soon."
He held up one hand firmly now, and Dana turned uneasily toward the
other side of the couch.
"Let her call for help, dear," whispered Saxa. "No," said the stricken
man feebly, as he battled hard to recover his equanimity; and the
sisters trembled, repentant, over their work. "Water, please." Dana
flew to the side table, and the hand trembled so that the carafe
clattered against the glass she filled, and the water splashed over the
side and on her rich dress as she bore it to the couch.
"Take it, Saxa," she whispered, and the kneeling girl held the glass to
the invalid's lips.
"Hah!" he sighed, after drinking a little, and signing to his ward to
take back the vessel. "I can speak now."
"No, no, dear; not now. We ought not to have spoken to you," said Saxa,
pressing her lips to his brow. "It was very thoughtless, but we were so
angry and could not keep it back."
He nodded, looked at her proudly, and drew her hand to his lips.
"Good girl!" he said. "I'm not angry; only weak. Hush! Wait a
little."
"Yes," said Dana quickly. "We'll go now, and write in a few days."
"No. Wait," said the old man in a low voice, but one full of decision.
"I must clear all this up. You cannot go."
They waited for some minutes before he spoke again, thinking the while
of the terrible helplessness of the man who had for so many years ruled
like a king in their district, and who, even now, was fighting hard to
sway his social sceptre still.
"Hah!" he ejaculated at last. "Absurd to be so weak. Better now. It
was sudden."
"Daddy, dear," said Saxa tenderly, "don't revive it. Let it all wait."
"No; not a minute," he said with decision. "I'm strong again now."
He stretched out a hand to each, and smiled at them in turn.
"There," he said; "it's quite a triumph for you girls to see how weak a
man can be. Now, then; let's clear all this up--this absurd nonsense
about the boys."
"You can't bear it now, daddy," said Saxa, with tears in her eyes.
"I can bear it, little woman. Now, come, my darlings, what silly
jealous nonsense is this you have got in your pretty heads? But I'm
glad--very glad. You can both be very soft and gentle, I see, when the
proper time comes. But fie! Saxa. Shame! Dana. It is madness.
Neil? The nurse? Why, my darling, I did not think you could be so fond
of my great, solemn, dreamy boy. But--jealous--and of my good, patient,
gentle attendant! Oh, tush! Nonsense!"
He laughed feebly, looking from one to the other, as if seeking for a
confession that their charge was only the result of a little pique due
to inattention on the part of his sons.
But Saxa and Dana remained by his couch, stern and hard of countenance;
and as he watched the frowns gathering on their brows the feeble laugh
died away, and his right hand began to tremble again.
"Speak," he said at last, after a painful pause, and he fixed his eyes
on the elder sister, whose voice sounded deep and sonorous as she said
slowly:
"I'm sorry I spoke, dear," she said. "It was in my passion."
"And it is all folly," said Elthorne hastily.
"No, daddy," cried Saxa, with a flash of mortified pride in her eyes;
"it is all too true."
"What!" cried Elthorne, turning his eyes on Dana. "Yes," said the
latter, repeating her sister's words; "it is all too true."
"It has been going on for months past," continued Saxa.
"At the hospital in London, dear," added Dana, "as well as here."
Ralph Elthorne drew in his breath with a sharp, hissing sound, and lay
back staring straight before him, but the sisters, in their returning
anger, paid no heed to the change in his countenance, as a spasm passed
over it, but left him calm and firm again.
"I wouldn't have believed it," cried Saxa, "but I must--I must. It is
true."
"What? Neil? My boy Neil?" said Elthorne hoarsely. "My quiet,
obedient, straightforward son, whose word every man trusts? And Nurse
Elisia? I will not believe it."
"Very well, daddy," said Saxa gravely. "You will see."
"Bah! Nonsense, girl. Someone has been poisoning your ears against as
true and good a woman as ever breathed."
Saxa rose slowly from her knees, and stood gazing frowningly down in his
eyes, as the old man went on in stern tones of reproof.
"Shame on you, Saxa! My boy Neil is too noble and high-minded to even
dream of such a thing. He--the great surgeon who is growing famous!
Why, it would be a crime against you, and an insult to his father. My
darling, you should not let such a degrading notion harbour in your
brain."
The girl's stern look intensified.
"There, my child," he continued, "I'll speak gently to you. She is a
dear good woman, this nurse, and of course poor Neil has been thrown
with her a great deal--as doctor and nurse, of course. Come, my dear,
let it go. I tell you, as his father, it is not true. And now you,
Dana--have you caught the complaint? Has Al laughed and joked with one
of the keepers' daughters?"
"No, sir, but he has made and kept assignations with Nurse Elisia in the
woods."
"What? It is not true, girl. I could--no, no, I will not be angry. I
must not; but I am angry with you, my dears, and yet I'm not, for I'm
glad to see more depth in your affection for the boy than has been
apparent on the surface. Tell me now: you have not accused them--made
this silly, reckless charge?"
"It is of no use to beat about the bush, daddy," said Saxa sadly. "We
have not seen the boys; and we will not see them, dear. We are going
back home at once."
"You are not going back home at once," cried their guardian, "and you
are going to see them. Dana, ring the bell."
"No, no, sir," said Saxa, "there is no need to get up a scene. We'll go
away quietly at once."
"Ring that bell!"
"But, daddy--dear guardian--Mr Elthorne!" cried Saxa imploringly.
"Ring that bell, I say," cried Ralph Elthorne, with the veins starting
in his temples and his face becoming purple. "Do you think I am going
to lie here and let my two boys be maligned by that silly piece of
scandal you hare-brained girls have got in your heads? My son Neil
would not degrade himself like that. My boy Alison would not be such a
scoundrel. Ring, I say, ring, and they shall confront you, both of
them, and tell you it is a lie."
"Very well," cried Dana, and she gave the bell a sharp snatch.
"Who has told you this--one of the servants?" Before he could be
answered the two doors of the room flew open, Nurse Elisia entering
hurriedly by one, Neil by the other.
Neither spoke; they read the trouble at a glance.
"Where is Alison?" said Ralph Elthorne, speaking as if his son were a
little boy about to be punished. "Fetch him here."
"My dear father," said Neil firmly, "you are exciting yourself. I must
insist--"
"Fetch Alison."
The command was so fiercely given that, seeing it would be better to
comply than oppose his father and, perhaps, bring on some terrible
seizure, Neil frowned and withdrew, while his father turned to Nurse
Elisia.
"Go to your room now," he said. "I will speak to you presently. My
sons first."
"Mr Elthorne--for your own sake--pray be calm."
"To your room," he cried hoarsely. "Wait." The nurse looked wildly
from one sister to the other, and a pang of jealousy shot through them
as they saw it was no common woman who had stepped between them and the
smooth, even course of their fate. Then, after another imploring glance
at Elthorne, she slowly left the room.
There was a deep silence, only broken by the heavy, stertorous breathing
of the invalid, till steps were heard, the door was opened, and the
brothers entered, Neil closing the door behind them.
"Come here," said Elthorne, in an unnaturally calm voice, as if it were
the father speaking to two erring boys.
The young men advanced, and, after a quick glance, Neil said firmly:
"As your medical attendant, sir, I must insist upon your being perfectly
calm."
"As your father, sir, I insist upon your waiting till I have spoken. I
know my strength better than you can tell me."
Neil made a deprecating sign, and moved to the other side of the couch,
looking sorrowfully at Saxa, who met his eyes for a moment, and then
scornfully averted her own.
"Now, Alison," said Elthorne slowly, and in a voice that sounded
wonderfully composed.
"Yes, sir, what is it?" replied Alison quietly, and at that moment the
brothers' eyes met and an angry look was directed at the elder.
"This, my son: you are engaged to marry Dana Lydon."
"Am I?" said the young man scornfully, and he gazed at her now
defiantly, while Neil's heart sank in his breast with a terrible feeling
of despair.
"Yes, sir, you are," said his father firmly. "At my wish. It is an old
engagement, and I have just heard a charge against you of insulting this
lady by attempting to carry on a contemptible flirtation with a woman
serving as a menial in this house. Tell Dana it is not true."
There was no reply.
"Tell Dana Lydon, the lady to whom you are engaged, that it is not
true."
Still there was no reply.
"Do you hear me, sir?" thundered Ralph Elthorne, and Neil took a step
forward in alarm, as he saw the change in his father's countenance, but
the old man fiercely motioned him back.
"I am not a boy," said Alison haughtily, "and I reserve to myself the
right to marry whom I please."
"That is not an answer, sir," cried Elthorne sharply. "I say, is the
charge true?"
"Ask me when we are alone, sir. I refuse to be cross-examined and
treated like a school-boy before the Misses Lydon."
Ralph Elthorne's brow grew black with rage, and Neil again pressed
forward till his father motioned him back.
"Father! for Heaven's sake, be calm," he whispered.
"Silence, sir!" roared Elthorne, whose aspect now was startling to those
who watched him and trembled for the end. "I am fighting, weak as I am,
for the honour of my house--for the honour of my two sons, to prove to
these ladies that they have been tricked and cheated by a contemptible,
false report. This obstinate fool refuses to clear himself, but you, my
boy--my eldest son--you are a gentleman. You will not let any weak
vanity prevent you from speaking out and proving to Saxa here--your
betrothed--that a miserable, lying scandal has been set afoot. That you
are not one--you, the student and man of reputation--to degrade yourself
by stooping to a pitiful intrigue which would disgrace you and me in the
eyes of your betrothed. Come, let us end this painful scene. Speak
out, and then take my child Saxa's hand, and she shall humble herself to
you and ask your pardon for doubting you, as I know she will."
"Yes," said Saxa, as he turned to her, and she fixed her eyes firmly
upon Neil, "as I will directly, Neil Elthorne."
"There," said the father. "You hear, sir? Now, then, speak out and
deny it."
"Deny what?" said Neil slowly.
"That for a long time past you have been carrying on a contemptible
flirtation--bah! the wretched word!--that you have been behaving toward
Nurse Elisia as the man does to the woman he means to make his wife. I
have told Saxa that it is not true."
Neil remained motionless, forgetting his position on his intense dread
regarding his father's state.
"Come!" said the old man; "this needs no hesitation. Speak out."
Still Neil remained silent, with something seeming to murmur in his ear:
"Deny it. If you speak the truth you will kill him. He could not bear
it. She does not love you--she cares for your brother. You must not
own the truth and disgrace yourself forever in Saxa Lydon's eyes."
"Neil!"
He remained silent still, and the voice seemed to whisper again: "Deny
it. The avowal will kill him. You know that in his state it would be
his death. You must not--you cannot speak."
"Once more I ask you, boy, to clear yourself before your betrothed.
Tell her it is a lie."
The change was so terrible in the old man's face that Saxa uttered a low
cry.
"No, no!" she said. "Neil! Look at him. Look!"
"Silence, girl," cried the old man hoarsely, and with his face working.
"Father, for Heaven's sake," said Neil, bending over him; but the old
man waved him back, and he shrank away, ignorant of the fact that Saxa's
cry had brought Nurse Elisia to the door, where she stood appalled at
the old man's aspect.
"Tell Saxa it is a lie."
"I cannot, sir," said Neil firmly. "You force from me the truth."
"What!" panted Elthorne.
"It would be deceiving Saxa Lydon, and lying against Elisia, the woman I
love hopelessly, but with all my heart."
"You have killed him!"