Nurse Elisia Part 55

"To have been your husband?" said Isabel, looking at the speaker wonderingly.

"Yes; to have been my husband, dear, and the wedding gifts came fast.

Life seemed so joyous to me then; and in another week I should have been his wife, but I was stayed from that--in time."

"From that? In time?"

"Yes. I say in my blindness I thought him everything that was n.o.ble and good, and when the truth was brought home to me I would not believe it then. I defended him against all who attacked him, for I said, `It is impossible--he loves me too well, and I love him. No man could be so base.'"

"And you found out--was it true--true?"

"You saw him leave us, my child. He wrecked my life. Would he have gone like that if my words had not been just?"

"Nurse Elisia!"

"No; don't call me that again."

"Not call you that? What does it all mean?"

"I cannot tell you now, dear. Think of me always as a very dear friend.

I am worthy to be called so, and some day I will tell you all my past."

"But--"

"No, no; not now. Let us go up to your room."

"Yes, before Aunt comes. I cannot meet her now."

"No; and to-morrow, if your father can bear it, go to him and tell him what took place to-night--all that I have said. He can easily find out the truth, and he will not allow Sir Cheltnam Burwood to speak to you again."

"You think so?" cried the girl excitedly.

"I know it, dear. Your father has been hard and obstinate of will, but he loves his children as an English gentleman should; and, as a man of honour, when he knows all, he will never sanction that man's presence here."

"And--when I tell him, you will speak? It is so terrible. He will want to know all the past."

"No: I cannot be Sir Cheltnam Burwood's accuser, even now."

"You will not speak?"

"My mission is at an end, dear. It is impossible for me to stay. I shall not be here."

Isabel looked up wonderingly, and then raised her face to kiss Elisia's lips as she slowly clasped her neck.

The next moment she was pa.s.sionately clasped to the nurse's heart.

"G.o.d bless you, darling! Good-bye!" was sobbed in Isabel's ear, and the next minute she was alone.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

JUMPING AT CONCLUSIONS.

About half an hour after Isabel and Elisia had parted, Aunt Anne came down from her room. She had tapped gently at her brother's door, which was opened by the nurse, who was as calm and self-possessed as ever.

"Mr Elthorne is asleep, madam," she said.

"Ho!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Aunt Anne, turning sharply round and continuing her way. "Ralph always is asleep when I want to see him. I wonder how the lovers have got on," she added, as she reached the drawing-room door, and stood smiling on the mat before she entered and looked round.

"In the conservatory, I suppose," she said playfully. "Oh, dear; it seems only yesterday when--"

She went straight to the open French window, and peeped in among the exotics; then went to one end, then to the other, where the door stood wide open leading out on to the terrace and the lawn.

"Now that's carrying matters too far," she said to herself. "It is not etiquette. Isabel ought to have known better, and Sir Cheltnam should not have taken her. Ah, well, I suppose I must not be too strict at a time like this."

She rang the bell for the tea urn, and the butler entered, red hot from an exciting conversation with his fellow-servants, who were in full debate.

"You had better tell the gentlemen tea is ready when you leave the room."

"I beg pardon, ma'am?" said the butler, as he set down the hissing urn.

"I said tell the gentlemen that tea is ready."

"The gentlemen, ma'am? They are both out."

"Both out?"

"Yes, ma'am. Smith, the keeper, just looked in, and said he was on his rounds, and he met Mr Alison, ma'am, going toward Buckley village, and soon after he saw one of the watchers, and he had seen Mr Neil, ma'am, walking as fast as he could toward Pinkley Pound."

"Dear me, how strange!" said Aunt Anne. "No, no, don't shut the window: Sir Cheltnam and Miss Elthorne are just outside. I may as well let him see that I know it, and stop the servants' talking," thought Aunt Anne.

The butler stared.

"Well, what is it?"

"Beg pardon, ma'am. Sir Cheltnam went round to the stables, had his horse put to in the dogcart, and drove away more than half an hour ago."

"What?"

"And Maria says that Miss Isabel's locked up in her bedroom, and has been there ever so long."

"That will do," said Aunt Anne with asperity; and the butler left the room. "Oh, dear me!" she cried; "the foolish girl! There must have been quite a scene. She's thinking still of that wretched sailor, and poor Ralph will be so angry when he knows. I suppose I must go and ask her to come down."

She went to the bedroom door, but there was no response whatever for some time, and then only a brief intimation that her niece was not coming down that night.

"Well, I shall certainly give her a very severe talking to in the morning," said Aunt Anne, as she sat over her solitary tea. "As self-willed as her father, every bit. Oh, dear me! how children are changed since I was young."

Aunt Anne retired early. The butler did not, for it was his duty to sit up and admit the gentlemen.

Alison returned about half-past eleven, and went at once to his room, while the butler once more settled himself down in an easy-chair to wait, and went to sleep, awaking in the morning stiff and unrefreshed to find that his waiting up had been in vain.