Nurse Elisia Part 31

"There is, nurse, and that is why I summoned you. Look here, Neil; my body may be half dead, but my head is clear. I am not imbecile yet, and I will not be treated like a child. It is hard, very hard, that even one's own son sinks his relationship in the professional man, and forgets that he is dealing with his father, who has become to him only a patient."

"My dear father!" cried Neil, smiling, "are you not a little hard on me?"

"No, no!" cried the old man irritably. "You are deceiving me, for my good as you call it, and as you owned a little while back."

"Indeed, no," said Neil quietly. "I only owned to keeping back the fact that Sir Denton was coming down till the morning of his visit, so as to save you from brooding over it and getting anxious."

"Well, what is that but deceiving me as I say, and treating me as a child?"

"Surely not, my dear father."

"I say it is, and it is cruel. I want to trust you, but you all, even to Isabel, join in cheating me, for my good as you are pleased to call it."

Neil glanced at the nurse, who met his eyes, but, quick as lightning the sick man raised his hand, half menacingly, at his son.

"Hah!" he cried, "don't try to corrupt her, and induce her to join your conspiracy; I can read your looks--`Don't contradict him.' She is honest; I can trust her. You will tell me the simple truth, nurse, will you not?" he said, holding one hand over the back of the couch toward her.

She stepped nearer, and took the extended hand. "Indeed, I will, sir,"

she said gently; and then, with a smile, "unless, sir, I were forbidden."

"What?" he cried, withdrawing his hand.

"There might be a crisis in your illness when your medical adviser felt it was absolutely necessary, for your own sake, to keep back something of your state."

"Hah!" he cried bitterly, "all alike--all alike. I thought I could trust you."

"You can trust me, sir, to be your faithful servant, who is striving to help your recovery."

He looked at her with the lines about the corners of his eyes very deep, but her frank, ingenuous look disarmed him, his face softened, and he said gently: "Yes, I can trust you, nurse. G.o.d bless you for a good, patient soul. And now, tell me--there cannot be such a crisis as that of which you speak--surely I should feel something of it if impending--"

He did not finish his sentence but looked piteously up at the nurse, whose smile of encouragement chased his dark thoughts away again, and he once more raised his hand.

"Yes," he said gently. "You will tell me the truth. Sir Denton is coming down--to see me--to-day. It means that, though I do not suffer more, I am much worse?"

"Indeed, no, sir; and you are agitating yourself without cause."

"Agitating myself without cause," he muttered softly as he glanced at his son, and then quickly back at the candid face bent over him, while Neil's heart beat more heavily, and there was a dreamy sensation of intense joy at his heart as he saw how full of faith and trust his father seemed.

"You are steadily getting better, sir," continued Elisia, and her soft, low voice was full of a tender sympathy for the broken man who clung to her hand.

"Is that the truth?" he said, very slowly and impressively. "Don't you deceive me, it would be too cruel. You will tell me all?"

She bent down over him a little lower so that he could gaze full in her clear, frank eyes, and there was a curious sense of swelling in Neil's breast, and a jealous pang of despair as he clutched the arm of the chair tightly and thought of Alison, while the silence in the room seemed to be prolonged.

It was Ralph Elthorne who broke that silence, and Neil started back to the present, for his imagination had been going rapidly astray.

"Yes," he said quietly; "it is the truth."

He paused again for a few moments.

"You need not tell me," he continued, "but, answer this: and I shall quite recover--the use--of my limbs--and get about--again--as before?"

Nurse Elisia did not remove her eyes from those which gazed into hers with such fierce question; but her own grew cloudy and seemed to darken with sadness and pity for the suffering man.

"Answer me," he said imperiously.

She turned quickly to Neil.

"No," cried Mr Elthorne; "don't ask him what you are to say. Speak out--the truth."

She bent lower over him with her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g over now, a couple of drops falling upon the invalid's breast as he clung spasmodically to her hand.

"You cannot lie," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "The truth--the truth?"

Again there was a painful silence, and Neil clasped his hands together as his arms rested upon his knees, and he closed his eyes and let his head sink down, listening intently for the sentence which Nurse Elisia had been called upon to deliver. And at last she spoke, her low, soft voice thrilling father and son: "G.o.d has spared your life," she almost whispered, but every word was painfully audible, "and you retain the greatest gift to man--the full possession of your mental powers."

"Yes, yes," he whispered. "Go on--go on."

"You will soon, now, be sufficiently strong to be out and about once more, but--"

"Go on," he panted--"go on."

"Forgive me, dear Mr Elthorne, for saying it. You force it from me."

"Yes, yes; go on," he panted--"the truth--the truth. I shall be out and about, but--"

"Never again as of old," she continued; and low as her words were, they rang out to the ears of the listeners; "never again as of old."

As she uttered this last word of what was almost as painful as a death sentence to such a man as Ralph Elthorne, a sob seemed to be torn from his breast, and Neil sprang up as if expectant of some fresh seizure.

But his father made a sign which arrested him, and lay back gazing straight before him till many moments had elapsed. Then his lips parted, and they heard him say in a whisper:

"A helpless cripple--I? Yes, it is the truth--the truth."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A TEMPTING OFFER.

"Never again as of old."

The words seemed to quiver in the silence of the sick chamber as Nurse Elisia uttered what, to the sufferer, sounded like a sentence, the more terrible as coming from one so grave, calm, and unimpa.s.sioned as the beautiful woman who stood before him; and as he lay, gazing wildly at the speaker, Neil saw his father's eyelids tremble and then slowly drop over the dilated eyes, while his worn, thin, wrinkled face was contracted. But he opened his eyes again, and clung tightly to the nurse's hand.

"Yes," he said firmly, "that is the truth. Thank you, nurse, thank you.

G.o.d bless you for what you have done for a poor helpless cripple."

He drew her down toward him as he spoke till he could kiss her brow, and then, as she rose, he released her hand.

"Thank you," he said quietly; "thank you. Yes, that is the truth. But I shall be out again, Neil, weak in body, but not imbecile. I shall still be the Squire, boy. I am the Squire. Now, tell me: why is Sir Denton coming down?"

"Simply for me to ask his opinion, father," said Neil, seating himself again, and resisting the temptation to offer the nurse a chair. But before he could continue it seemed as if his thoughts had been communicated to the patient, who turned toward her.