Nurse Elisia Part 52

"A poor future for me, Neil," said Elthorne, shaking his head.

"By no means, my dear father. There is nothing to prevent your living another fifteen or twenty years."

"Like this?" replied Elthorne despairingly, as he glanced down at his helpless limbs.

"Like this, sir. You are a wealthy man, and can soften the hards.h.i.+ps of your state in a hundred ways."

"Ah, well, we shall see, my boy, we shall see."

"Have you been reading?" asked Neil, glancing at a book on the little table by the side of the couch.

"No. Nurse Elisia was reading to me when Maria brought her a message."

"Shall I go on reading where she left off?" said Neil, taking up the book and feeling a kind of pleasure in holding the little volume so lately in her hands.

"No, no, I am tired of poetry and history. What are you writing now?"

"Only some notes on a case that is taking up a good deal of attention just now."

"Ah!" said the elder man eagerly. "I should like to hear that."

"It is very dry and tedious, I'm afraid; only of interest to the professional man."

"But I take an interest in such things now. Will you read it to me, Neil?"

"Of course, sir. I'll fetch it," said Neil, smiling at his father's eagerness about matters that he would be unable to comprehend.

"That's right, my boy. But you are sure that you will not think it a trouble?"

"My dear father," cried Neil, taking his hand, "I wish you would try to understand me better. I'm afraid you do not."

"Yes, yes, my boy. I do understand you, indeed I do. Don't think because I have lain here, querulous and complaining, that I have been blind as well as helpless. G.o.d bless you, my boy, for all you have done!"

"Only my duty, sir," said Neil gravely, "and I only wish that--"

He stopped short.

"Yes--yes--what?" said his father eagerly.

"That I could have followed out your wishes in another way."

He rose and went out of the room, leaving the helpless man gazing sadly after him.

"The tyrant's reign is over," he said sadly, "and I must be resigned to all that comes."

Neil went hurriedly down to the library, to stop short as he reached the door, for there was the low murmur of a man's voice within, speaking in appealing tones.

"Poor Bel!" muttered Neil, as the recollection of all that had pa.s.sed that day came back, and his promise--entirely forgotten--to keep Burwood with him, came like a flash.

It was only a dozen steps to the dining room, and he hurried there to throw open the door, and, as he feared, find it empty.

Angry with himself for his carelessness, though hardly at the moment seeing how he could have acted differently, he hurried back to the library, entered suddenly, and then stopped, as if paralysed by the pang which shot through him.

For he had entered angrily, feeling ready to interrupt a _tete-a-tete_, which Burwood must have contrived to obtain with his sister; and he found himself in presence of Alison, who was tightly holding Nurse Elisia's hands, which she now seemed to wrest away, as she turned suddenly, looked wildly in Neil's face, rushed by him, and hurried out of the room.

"Well?" said Alison, as soon as he could recover from the startling effect of his brother's interruption. "You might have knocked."

Neil made no reply, but stood there pressing his nails into the palms of his hands, as he fought hard to keep down the sensation of mad, jealous hatred gathering in his breast. Then, turning upon his heel, he staggered more than walked out of the room, across the hall and upstairs to his father's chamber, but only to pause at the door.

"I have no right--I have no right," he said; and going down once more, forgetful of everything but his own agony of spirit, he took his hat from the stand, pa.s.sed out through the hall door, and walked swiftly away into the black darkness of the night--onward at a rapidly increasing pace--onward--anywhere so that he might find rest. For the feeling was strong upon him that he and his brother must not meet while this mad sensation of pa.s.sion was surging in his breast.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

MARIA'S DECEPTIVE MESSAGE.

"Don't read any more, my dear," said Ralph Elthorne gently.

Nurse Elisia looked up from her book and found that the patient was gazing at her.

"Ah," he said, with a faint smile on his pinched lips, "I said `my dear.' Yes; not the way to address one's nurse. It was to the sweet, gentle woman who has tended me with all the patient affection of a daughter."

"Oh, Mr Elthorne!" she cried, her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g with tears, "I have only tried to do my duty as your attendant."

"And you have done much more," he said, as he still gazed at her thoughtfully. "You have set me thinking a great deal, my child--a great deal, and--no, you must not talk of leaving here again for a long time-- a very long time."

She shook her head.

"I have duties in London, sir, which call me away."

"And a duty here which keeps you," he said, smiling. "You would not be so hard-hearted as to leave such a broken old fellow as I am--helpless."

"But you will not be so helpless soon, sir."

"Ah, well," he replied, "there is time enough for that. We shall see-- we shall see. Yes. Come in!" he cried querulously, for there was a tap at the door. "No, do; don't come in. See who it is, my child. If it is Isabel, she may come. If it is my sister, tell her I cannot see her to-night, and that she must stay with her visitor."

"And it will make her more bitter against me," thought Elisia, as she crossed the room, to find that it was Maria Bell.

"Miss Isabel wants you in the lib'ry, nurse, in a quarter of an hour,"

said the woman shortly; and she turned her back and went down.

"What is it? what is it?" said Elthorne sharply.

She told him.

"Now what can she want that she could not have come and said to you herself? In a quarter of an hour, eh?" he continued, turning his eyes to the little carriage clock standing on the table. "Yes: they will be out of the dining room then, and the gentlemen will be sitting over their claret--as I used to be over my gla.s.s of port--as I used to be over my gla.s.s of port."

"Shall I read to you again for a while, sir?" said the nurse, to divert his thoughts from the past.

"No, not now," he said shortly. "Hah! How little we know of what is in store for us. Such a hale, strong man as I was, nurse. And now, a helpless baby--nothing more."