Neil was silent.

"Neil, pray speak," she sobbed.

"Yes, my child. He brought a telegram."

"A despatch," she said, correcting him.

"No, dear--a telegram."

"Then--then--it means--something sudden--for them to telegraph. I can bear it, now, dear. How soon is he to go?"

"Isabel, my child, will you trust in me to help you to do what is best?"

said Neil tenderly.

"Yes, Neil, dear; of course, I want to do what is right, and you will help me."

"I will, dear, with all my strength. You know that Tom has his duty to do, like the rest of us, and you have yours to our poor father."

"Yes, Neil, of course, and you know I try."

"My darling, yes," he cried, as he kissed the pale cheeks wet now with tears.

"Then tell me. I must know. When is Tom to go?"

"Isabel, your father forbade all engagement with him, and I have talked to Tom Beck as I thought was best for both of you. Come, you must act like a brave little woman and help me. We have both got our duty to do now at a very sad time. You will help me and try to be firm?"

"Yes--yes," she whispered hoa.r.s.ely, "but--but--Neil--tell me--when is he to go?"

"Isabel, dear, it was his duty as an officer and as an honourable man."

"Yes," she whispered in a strangely low tone. "Tom would do his duty always, I know--now--you are keeping something back. I can see it," she cried, growing more excited and struggling in his arms. "I know now-- and without bidding me good-bye. Neil, you have sent him away; he is gone!"

Neil bent his head sadly, and she literally s.n.a.t.c.hed herself away.

"And you call yourself my brother!" she cried pa.s.sionately. "You say you taught him his duty; and, after all he has said to me, to make him go without one word. Oh, it is cruel--it is cruel. What have I done that you should treat me so?"

"Isabel, dear, you promised me that you would be firm."

"How can a woman be firm at a time like this? But I know; you could not be so cruel. He is coming back just to see me and say good-bye."

"He has gone, Isabel."

"Without a single word or look?"

She gazed at him as if dazed, and unable to believe his words. Then uttering a low, piteous cry, she sank helpless across his arms, her eyes closed, and for hours she lay for the most part unconscious, only awakening from time to time to burst into a pa.s.sion of hysterical weeping as her senses returned.

"Duty is hard--very hard," said Neil through his set teeth, as he divided his time between his father's and his sister's chambers, where Aunt Anne sat sobbing and bewailing their fate. Alison had returned at dusk, and partaken of the dinner alone, to go afterward to his little study, where he sat and scowled and smoked.

The carriage had been sent to the station in accordance with Sir Denton's request, and then forgotten by all in the house, and the night was going on apace.

Neil had just left his sister's room and gone back to his father's to find him hot and feverish to an extent which rather troubled him, and once more made him long for the friendly counsel and advice of a colleague.

But his sound common sense gave him the help he needed, and after administering medicine he became satisfied with the result and sat by the bedside thinking of the stern duty he had to fulfill.

"I judge Saxa too hardly," he said to himself. "I do not go the way to make her care for me, and it is no wonder that she should be piqued by my indifference. I'll try and alter it, for all that other is a foolish dream, and due to my low nervous state. I'll turn over a new leaf to-morrow, and see what can be done. It would help him in his recovery if he knew that his dearest wishes were bearing fruit; and if I satisfy him over that, he will yield to mine about poor little Isabel. She will not be so hard to-morrow when her sorrow is being softened down. For I did right, and I'll do right about Saxa, poor girl! I was quite rude to her to-day. I'll ride over to-morrow and fetch her to see him. He likes her as much as he does Isabel. There, I think I am getting things into train for the beginning of a new life, and--What is it?"

"The carriage back from the station, my dear," whispered Aunt Anne.

"The new nurse is in the hall. Will you come down and speak to her at once?"

"Yes, Aunt. Thank Heaven, she has come."

He hurried out of the room and down the stairs to where, in the dim light, a tall cloaked figure stood by her humble-looking luggage. And as he went he had made up in his mind the words he would say to her about getting some refreshment at once and joining him in the sick chamber, where a bed had been made up in the dressing room for her use.

But Neil Elthorne did not speak the words he had meant to say, for, as the visitor turned at his step, he stopped short with the blood rushing to his brain, and a strange sensation of vertigo attacking him as he faltered out:

"Good Heavens! Nurse Elisia! Has he sent you?"

CHAPTER NINE.

OFF TO HIGHTOFT.

"There, you are better now."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, indeed you are. This has nothing to do with the operation, I a.s.sure you."

"Then, pray, what is it?" This question very sharply, and the patient moved in her bed in a way that showed very little feebleness.

"Simply hysteria."

"What! Sterricks?"

"Yes, a form of hysterics."

"There!" cried the patient, with a triumphant tone in her voice. "I knew you didn't know nothing about it. I never had sterricks in my life."

"Because you have always been a woman in a vigorous state of health.

Latterly you have been brought down rather low."

"'Taint that," said the woman sharply, "it's what's done to me here, and the shameful neglect. It's horrid; I'm half killed, and then Mr Neil goes away and leaves me to that horrible old man, and as soon as Mr Neil's gone, the other leaves me to die."

"I am afraid you are a very foolish woman," said the nurse quietly. "I can a.s.sure you that you are getting well fast."

"Oh, yes, I know. And you are as bad as they are. It's shameful!"

"You have been working yourself up to think you are being neglected, but your troubles are imaginary."

"Oh, yes, I know," cried the woman angrily.