Nurse Elisia Part 43

"You are not going back home at once," cried their guardian, "and you are going to see them. Dana, ring the bell."

"No, no, sir," said Saxa, "there is no need to get up a scene. We'll go away quietly at once."

"Ring that bell!"

"But, daddy--dear guardian--Mr Elthorne!" cried Saxa imploringly.

"Ring that bell, I say," cried Ralph Elthorne, with the veins starting in his temples and his face becoming purple. "Do you think I am going to lie here and let my two boys be maligned by that silly piece of scandal you hare-brained girls have got in your heads? My son Neil would not degrade himself like that. My boy Alison would not be such a scoundrel. Ring, I say, ring, and they shall confront you, both of them, and tell you it is a lie."

"Very well," cried Dana, and she gave the bell a sharp s.n.a.t.c.h.

"Who has told you this--one of the servants?" Before he could be answered the two doors of the room flew open, Nurse Elisia entering hurriedly by one, Neil by the other.

Neither spoke; they read the trouble at a glance.

"Where is Alison?" said Ralph Elthorne, speaking as if his son were a little boy about to be punished. "Fetch him here."

"My dear father," said Neil firmly, "you are exciting yourself. I must insist--"

"Fetch Alison."

The command was so fiercely given that, seeing it would be better to comply than oppose his father and, perhaps, bring on some terrible seizure, Neil frowned and withdrew, while his father turned to Nurse Elisia.

"Go to your room now," he said. "I will speak to you presently. My sons first."

"Mr Elthorne--for your own sake--pray be calm."

"To your room," he cried hoa.r.s.ely. "Wait." The nurse looked wildly from one sister to the other, and a pang of jealousy shot through them as they saw it was no common woman who had stepped between them and the smooth, even course of their fate. Then, after another imploring glance at Elthorne, she slowly left the room.

There was a deep silence, only broken by the heavy, stertorous breathing of the invalid, till steps were heard, the door was opened, and the brothers entered, Neil closing the door behind them.

"Come here," said Elthorne, in an unnaturally calm voice, as if it were the father speaking to two erring boys.

The young men advanced, and, after a quick glance, Neil said firmly:

"As your medical attendant, sir, I must insist upon your being perfectly calm."

"As your father, sir, I insist upon your waiting till I have spoken. I know my strength better than you can tell me."

Neil made a deprecating sign, and moved to the other side of the couch, looking sorrowfully at Saxa, who met his eyes for a moment, and then scornfully averted her own.

"Now, Alison," said Elthorne slowly, and in a voice that sounded wonderfully composed.

"Yes, sir, what is it?" replied Alison quietly, and at that moment the brothers' eyes met and an angry look was directed at the elder.

"This, my son: you are engaged to marry Dana Lydon."

"Am I?" said the young man scornfully, and he gazed at her now defiantly, while Neil's heart sank in his breast with a terrible feeling of despair.

"Yes, sir, you are," said his father firmly. "At my wish. It is an old engagement, and I have just heard a charge against you of insulting this lady by attempting to carry on a contemptible flirtation with a woman serving as a menial in this house. Tell Dana it is not true."

There was no reply.

"Tell Dana Lydon, the lady to whom you are engaged, that it is not true."

Still there was no reply.

"Do you hear me, sir?" thundered Ralph Elthorne, and Neil took a step forward in alarm, as he saw the change in his father's countenance, but the old man fiercely motioned him back.

"I am not a boy," said Alison haughtily, "and I reserve to myself the right to marry whom I please."

"That is not an answer, sir," cried Elthorne sharply. "I say, is the charge true?"

"Ask me when we are alone, sir. I refuse to be cross-examined and treated like a school-boy before the Misses Lydon."

Ralph Elthorne's brow grew black with rage, and Neil again pressed forward till his father motioned him back.

"Father! for Heaven's sake, be calm," he whispered.

"Silence, sir!" roared Elthorne, whose aspect now was startling to those who watched him and trembled for the end. "I am fighting, weak as I am, for the honour of my house--for the honour of my two sons, to prove to these ladies that they have been tricked and cheated by a contemptible, false report. This obstinate fool refuses to clear himself, but you, my boy--my eldest son--you are a gentleman. You will not let any weak vanity prevent you from speaking out and proving to Saxa here--your betrothed--that a miserable, lying scandal has been set afoot. That you are not one--you, the student and man of reputation--to degrade yourself by stooping to a pitiful intrigue which would disgrace you and me in the eyes of your betrothed. Come, let us end this painful scene. Speak out, and then take my child Saxa's hand, and she shall humble herself to you and ask your pardon for doubting you, as I know she will."

"Yes," said Saxa, as he turned to her, and she fixed her eyes firmly upon Neil, "as I will directly, Neil Elthorne."

"There," said the father. "You hear, sir? Now, then, speak out and deny it."

"Deny what?" said Neil slowly.

"That for a long time past you have been carrying on a contemptible flirtation--bah! the wretched word!--that you have been behaving toward Nurse Elisia as the man does to the woman he means to make his wife. I have told Saxa that it is not true."

Neil remained motionless, forgetting his position on his intense dread regarding his father's state.

"Come!" said the old man; "this needs no hesitation. Speak out."

Still Neil remained silent, with something seeming to murmur in his ear: "Deny it. If you speak the truth you will kill him. He could not bear it. She does not love you--she cares for your brother. You must not own the truth and disgrace yourself forever in Saxa Lydon's eyes."

"Neil!"

He remained silent still, and the voice seemed to whisper again: "Deny it. The avowal will kill him. You know that in his state it would be his death. You must not--you cannot speak."

"Once more I ask you, boy, to clear yourself before your betrothed.

Tell her it is a lie."

The change was so terrible in the old man's face that Saxa uttered a low cry.

"No, no!" she said. "Neil! Look at him. Look!"

"Silence, girl," cried the old man hoa.r.s.ely, and with his face working.