Nurse Elisia Part 38

Isabel tried to escape, but very feebly, and the sore little heart began to throb as she was held firmly to another which beat more rapidly than was its wont.

"I cannot help understanding a good deal," was whispered to her gently.

"I have not sought to know, but it has come to me. Come, dear, be frank, and let me help you as one who loves you. Yes," she continued, as she saw the wondering look directed at her; "the little heart is sore because of tender little pa.s.sages with one who is now crossing the seas."

"Oh!" sighed Isabel, who fluttered a little as if to escape.

"Yes; that is so," whispered the nurse; "and now, with poor papa's wishes to back it up, there has come temptation in the way."

"Temptation?"

"Yes, dear, with a t.i.tle and wealth; and is the heart core because it is yielding to circ.u.mstances, and trying to forget the absent one who will not be forgotten?"

"Yes," sighed Isabel, "and it is so hard."

"Harder for him to return, and see the girl he loved my Lady Burwood."

"But he shall not," cried Isabel pa.s.sionately. "I would sooner die!"

"Ah!"

A long drawn, catching sigh, but not of agony, for there was a restful satisfaction in its tone, and for a few minutes there was utter silence in the room.

"Then you do not care for Sir Cheltnam's tender words?" said Elisia at last.

"No, no! I hate him!" cried the girl. "He knows so well about poor Tom, and he laughs at it all, and says it was a boy and girl love, and that this is my father's wish."

"Yes?"

"And no matter what I say, or how I behave, he persecutes me with his addresses. It is dreadful. Poor papa has promised him that I shall be his wife, and he treats me as if I were his own--as if he were my master--till I feel as if I wish I were dead."

"So as to break the poor trusting sailor's heart?"

"No, no, no," cried Isabel piteously; "don't, don't say that."

"Then never say those foolish, wicked words again, dear."

"But I am so wretched," sighed Isabel. "I have wanted again and again to see and talk to papa--to beg him to speak to Sir Cheltnam, and tell him that I have tried so hard to do what he wishes, but that I cannot-- indeed, I cannot--though he has set his mind upon it all just as he has upon my brothers marrying Saxa and Dana Lydon and--and," she cried pa.s.sionately, "they don't care for them a bit." There was another long pause, during which Isabel wept bitterly.

"What shall I do?" she cried at last, gazing piteously in the other's face.

"Wait, dear."

"But Sir Cheltnam?"

"You must try and avoid him till your father has recovered his strength, and can bear to hear adverse matters."

"But if I saw him, and spoke to him gently, and appealed to him?"

"In his condition anything like opposition might bring on a serious attack, dear. Even trifles make him so angry that your brother fears he may sometime have a fit. He is in a very precarious state, Isabel, and a serious matter like this might--I hardly dare tell you what might happen. Come; you said you would trust me. I will help you."

"But Sir Cheltnam? My aunt thinks she is doing right, and encourages him to come and torture me. What shall I do?"

"Wait and trust to me?"

"But it so hard."

"Hush! There is someone in the next room." Elisia rose, and entered the bedchamber.

"Oh, you are there," said Aunt Anne shortly. "I am quite sure that my poor brother ought not to be left alone so long."

"I was in the next room, madam, and if he had spoken a word I should have heard him directly," said the nurse softly.

"It does not seem like it, for I have been here some time."

"Excuse me, Mrs Barnett, Mr Elthorne must not be awakened suddenly."

"What do you mean?"

"Speak lower, if you please, ma'am."

"Really!" cried Aunt Anne, "this is growing insufferable! My good woman, you quite forget your position here. Are you aware that I am your senior by many years, and have had great experience in a sick room?"

"Possibly, madam. I am not doubting what you say. I am only going by the instructions I received from Sir Denton Hayle. Mr Elthorne must be saved from everything likely to produce a nervous shock." Aunt Anne looked her up and down with indignant scorn, and then marched--it could hardly be called walking, the movement was so mechanical and studied-- straight to the door, and went out without a word.

"Poor woman!" said Nurse Elisia, softly; "and yet she is a sweet, amiable lady at heart."

She went back to the dressing room to tell Isabel that her aunt had gone, but the room was empty.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

MARIA CAUSES TROUBLE.

"For two pins I'd have our things packed up and go back at once, Dan; that I would," cried Saxa Lydon, as she stood before the long cheval gla.s.s in the best bedroom at the Elthornes'. "Here, you, give me that pin off the dressing table."

The first words were in a low tone to her sister, the latter to Maria Bell, who was playing the part of lady's maid to the two visitors dressing for dinner; but from a keen interest in the state of affairs, Maria's ears were preternaturally sharp, and she heard the first words as well.

A handsome diamond pin was fetched and handed to the speaker, who thrust it into the knot of abundant hair, where it glistened like so much dew.

"The place doesn't seem the same," said Dana, who had finished dressing and lay back in a chair, arranging and rearranging the folds of her dress.

"Hold your tongue," whispered her sister. "We don't want everyone to know."

She looked significantly at the maid, who, with a most discreet air, ignored everything and went on folding and hanging up dresses in the wardrobe.

"I don't care who hears!" said Dana. "I'm sick of it. I wouldn't have come if it hadn't been for the poor old man."

"Nor I," said Saxa, whose anger was getting the better of her discretion. "Anyone would think we were perfect strangers; why, Burwood is ten times as attentive."