Neil Elthorne's absence from the hospital was rapidly extending to a
term of months, broken only by a weekly visit, during the last of which
Sir Denton, after hearing the report upon Ralph Elthorne's health, had
said quietly:
"Never mind if you have to be away from here another month, my dear boy.
You are not right yet yourself. You look careworn and anxious. I am
managing very well, and I want you to be quite strong before you return.
By the way, I have not filled up that post yet. I have had three men
engaged one after the other, but they have all turned tail--backed out
of it. You will not alter your mind? Fine opportunity for a brave man,
Elthorne."
"No, I cannot leave England," replied Neil firmly. "There are reasons
why I must stay."
"A lady, of course," said Sir Denton to himself. "I did once think--but
never mind. He knows his own affairs best."
Neil was back at Hightoft after his last visit to town. His father was
very slowly mending, and the nurse, as he could see, was indefatigable,
her actions in the sick room disarming to some extent the young
surgeon's resentment as he brooded over the fact that Alison was
constantly watching, and obtained interviews with her, he felt
convinced, from time to time.
He used to muse over these matters in the library, where he had
surrounded himself with various works into which he plunged deeply,
trying hard to forget his troubles in hard study of his profession, but
too often in vain, for he was haunted by Nurse Elisia's calm, grave face
in all his waking hours.
"She has a right to prefer him," he would say, "and I have none to
complain; but it is hard, very hard."
He visited the sick room regularly four times a day, and his behaviour
there was that of a surgeon who was a stranger. The nurse was always
present, and she received his orders in the same spirit, a coldness
having sprung up between them that was very nearly resentment on his
part, but always on hers the respect of nurse to the doctor who had the
patient in charge.
Several little things had made Neil satisfied that there was a quiet
understanding between his brother and Elisia, trifles in themselves, the
most important being Alison's manner when they met at meals. For there
was always a quiet, self-satisfied look in the young man's eyes which
indicated triumph, a look that roused a feeling of rage in his breast
that he found it hard to control.
Neil felt that if they were together a quarrel must ensue, an encounter
the very thought of which made him shudder, and after visiting his
father he would hurry back to the library, and try to forget everything
in his books.
It was with affairs in this condition that the day on which Sir Cheltnam
was to dine there came. Neil had paid his customary morning visit, and
paused at the door as he entered quietly, feeling almost lighthearted as
he saw the look of returning vigour in his father's face.
The old man was talking eagerly to the nurse, whose back was toward
Neil, and there was a glow of satisfaction in the young surgeon's heart
as he owned to himself that it was almost entirely Elisia's work, her
devotion to his father, which had wrought this change.
The group, too, at which he gazed pleased his eye: the invalid looking
up, full of trust, in his graceful attendant's face; and the
crushed-down love in Neil's breast began to revive again, as he thought
that if he could win her his father would be ready to take her as a
daughter to his heart.
Then all came over black. The scene before him was clouded, and a sense
of despairing misery filled his breast.
They were talking about Alison, for his father mentioned the young man's
name, and Elisia was evidently listening with attention to his words.
Neil drew back quickly to hide his emotion, for he felt that he could
not face them then; but the door clicked as he closed it, and before he
was at the head of the stairs it was reopened by Nurse Elisia, who said
quickly:
"You need not go back, sir. Mr Elthorne is quite ready to see you."
He turned once more, and as he gazed sharply in the nurse's face, he
detected a faint flush in her generally pale cheeks and a suffused look
in her eyes which strengthened him now in his belief.
"Even my father is working against me," he thought to himself, as he
passed on and took the chair by the side of the couch.
"Yes, boy, my yes," said his patient with some display of animation, "I
certainly am better this morning. Helpless as ever, of course--I am
getting resigned to that. I feel more myself, and I shall soon be
asking for my invalid chair or a carriage ride."
"Have them as soon as you can bear them, sir," said Neil, laying his
father's hand back upon the couch. "Yes, you are decidedly stronger
this morning, and I think you can now begin to do without me."
"Without you, my boy? Yes, I think so, but not without nurse. I am
very weak yet, my boy."
"But that will soon pass off," said Neil coldly. "You must keep your
attendant, of course."
"Yes. Yes, of course, Neil, of course."
"Then to-morrow or next day I shall go back, and come again, say from
Saturday to Monday, and then give you a fortnight's rest, so as to break
off by degrees."
"You want to go back, then, Neil?"
"Yes, sir. The hospital has hardly known me lately. I ought to go
now."
"True; yes, I ought not to keep you longer, my boy," said his father
thoughtfully. "But you 've done a wonderful deal for me, Neil."
"The best I could, father; and, thank God, we have saved your life."
"Thank God, my life has been spared!" said the old man fervently; and he
closed his eyes.
Neil left them soon after to return to the library, but not to resume
his studies. His heart burned with anger against everyone in the place,
and he paced the room thinking bitterly.
"Yes," he said to himself, "my work is done, and I may go. He said
nothing, but his manner betrayed the whole wretched story. They have
prevailed upon him. Dana is away and forgotten. Yes; of course.
Alison was with him two hours yesterday. There: the dream is past, and
I am fully awake again."
He stood with his teeth set, and his hands clenched for a few moments,
and the muscles of his face worked painfully. Then, drawing a long,
deep breath, he suddenly seemed to grow calm.
"Well, why should I repine? Only one can win the race. I ought to say,
`Heaven bless them!' She has won her way to my father's heart, and yes,
Heaven bless her! I will try and take her hand by and by, and kiss her,
and say, `Dearest sister, may you be very happy with the man of your
choice!' Yes; we must be brothers once again. But I must go soon. I
am too weak to bear it now."
There was a tap at the door.
"Yes. Come in."
The door opened, and Aunt Anne entered cautiously.
"Ah!" she cried, "not reading. I was so afraid of disturbing you, my
dear. You have grown such a learned man I'm quite afraid of you."
"Nonsense, Aunt dear. A surgeon must keep himself _au courant_ with
what is going on in his profession abroad."
"Of course he must, my dear, but he must not starve himself to death."
"No fear, Aunt," said Neil pleasantly. "I have no intention of trying
any such experiment."
"Oh, but you are always trying to live without food, my dear, and you
look pale, and your hair is beginning to show grey. Why, you look
fifteen years older than Alison, and you are only four."
Neil winced.
"He looks brown, and hearty, and handsome, while you--"
"Look like an old professional man, Aunt," he said, laughing, but with a
touch of bitterness in his tone. "So much the better for me. The world
goes by appearances. It does not like boyish looking surgeons."
"Ah! it's a very foolish world, my dear. But now, look here. I am
going to have a little extra dinner to-day because Sir Cheltnam is
coming, and I want you to promise to come and take your father's place."
"Ask Alison."
"No, my dear; you are the elder, and I ask you. Time after time I've
had nice things got ready, and you have refused to dine with us. Now
promise me you will come this evening."
"Oh, very well, Aunt, if it will please you."
"Thank you, my dear; that's very good of you. It will please me very
much."
"That's right, then. And, by the way, Aunt, I shall be going back in a
few days."
"Going back, my dear?"
"Yes; my father can be left now."
"Then the nurse will go with you?" she said, with a look of suspicion in
her eyes.
"No, Aunt," he said coldly. "Nurse Elisia will stay here as long as my
father desires to have her at his side."
"Oh, very well," said Aunt Anne, rustling her dress; "it is just as your
father likes. You are a terribly headstrong race, you Elthornes."
"Including yourself, Aunt?"
"Oh, no, my dear. I take after my mother's family. But it is nothing
to me. I am not going to interfere. All I say is that I hope
everything is for the best."
"And I hope the same, Aunt," said Neil cheerfully. "It's all
self-denial through life, eh?"
"Always, my dear. Then you will dress to-night, and come?"
"Oh, yes, Aunt; I'll come."
"Then we shall have a decent dinner," thought Aunt Anne, as she went
back to the drawing room. "I'm sorry that woman is not going, but I'm
glad she is not going up with Neil. Now suppose, after all, he is
giving her up! Oh, if I could only get poor Alison to be as sensible,
instead of growing more infatuated by that creature every day!"
Neil settled down to his books at once, seeking in study for the cure of
his mental pains, but he had hardly begun to forget the events of the
morning in an abstruse theory of muscular disease, when there was
another tap on the panel, and in obedience to the cry, "Come in!"
Isabel hurriedly entered and closed the door.
"Ah, my dear!" he said; and she looked at him wonderingly, his tone and
manner were so different to their wont. This gave her encouragement,
and begat her confidence, so that she ran to him, sank on her knees by
his chair, and took his hands.
"Why, what's this?" he cried. "Anything the matter?"
"Yes, Neil, dear," she said. "I'm in trouble, and I want you to help
me."
"Trouble? Help? Well, what is it, baby?"
"Don't laugh at me, Neil," she whispered in a broken voice. "Sir
Cheltnam Burwood is coming to dinner."
"Yes. Aunt has just been to tell me. What of that?"
"What of that?" she cried piteously. "Oh, Neil, dear, you don't see all
this as I do. It is so that he may see and talk to me. It is Aunt's
doing, and she says it is only carrying out poor papa's wishes."
"Ah, yes," he said thoughtfully. "I had almost forgotten that."
"Forgotten it?" she cried reproachfully. "Oh, Neil!"
"I'm a selfish fellow, little one," he said, bending down to kiss her,
when her arms were flung round his neck, and she buried her face in his
breast and burst into tears.
"Come, come, come!" he whispered soothingly; "what is it, Bel darling?
There, wipe your eyes and tell me all about it, and let's see if
something cannot be done."
"Yes, Neil, dear. It's very weak and foolish of me, but Sir Cheltnam's
coming, and he quite persecutes me with his addresses, and if I am angry
he only laughs. He talks to me as if I quite belonged to him now."
"Does he? Well, we must stop that, Bel. You are not his wife yet."
"No, dear; and I've no one to come to but you and Nurse Elisia. She is
so kind, but what can she do?" Neil frowned.
"Ah, yes," he said huskily, "what can she do?"
"I believe I should have broken my heart if she had not been so loving
and kind to me."
"Loving and kind?"
"Yes; I used to hate her, Neil, but she is so good and dear."
Neil half turned away his head.
"Neil, darling, you can help me to-night. When papa is quite strong
enough I am going to beg and pray of him to let me stay at home and be
his nurse and attendant. I love Tom, but I won't ask to marry him if
papa says no. But I can't marry anyone else. I don't want to, and it
would kill me to have to say `I will' to that dreadful man."
"Poor little darling!" he said tenderly. "Then you shall not. Father
must listen to reason by and by. I can think about you now, and I
will."
"Oh, Neil, you have made me so happy," she cried ecstatically. Then,
changing her manner directly, "But he's coming to-night."
"Well, what of that? You must be cool to him."
"But he does not mind that, and Aunt is sure to arrange to leave us
alone. I know she has planned it all with him."
"Ah!"
"Yes, I am sure of it; and if you would watch for me, and as soon as
Aunt has left us alone come and put a stop to it by staying with me, I
should be so grateful."
"What a duty for a surgeon, Bel!"
"It is to heal a sore heart, Neil," she said, smiling through her tears.
"Is it, pet? Well, then, I will try what I can do. Some people ought
to be made happy in this weary world."
"But it isn't a weary world, Neil," she cried enthusiastically. "It's a
lovely world, and I could be so happy in it, if--"
"Yes, Bel," he said sadly; "and I could be so happy in it too, if--"
"People did not make it a miserable world," cried Isabel.
They were silent for a few minutes, and then the girl continued:
"You will help me, Neil?"
"By not letting you be alone with our gallant, foxhunting baronet?"
"Yes, dear."
"I promise you," said Neil half sadly, half playfully. "I will watch
over you while I stay down here like a lynx."
"Oh, my darling brother! But you are not going soon, Neil?" she cried,
as she kissed him.
"Yes, very soon, dear. I must get back to my poor people and work. But
I will work, too, to try and make my little sister happy."
"Thank you--thank you--thank you, dear Neil!" cried the girl. "You've
made the world seem so bright and happy again; and--and I'm not afraid
to meet Sir Cheltnam now--and--and--oh, Neil, Neil, I must go upstairs
and have a good cry!"
She ran out of the room before he could stop her. "Poor little sis!" he
said, as he looked at the door through which she had passed. "Well, I
can make someone happy if happiness is not to come to me." He looked
sadly about him for a few moments, and then half aloud he whispered, as
he formed a mental future:
"And I could be so happy, too--if--"