cried Aunt Anne, ruffling up, and speaking excitedly.

"What, what do you mean?" he faltered; and it was like the shadow of his former self speaking. "What do I mean, Ralph? I mean that the place has not been the same since that dreadful woman came."

"You are wrong, my dear, you are wrong," he said querulously. "So good and attentive to me. I should have been dead before now if it had not been for her."

"Oh, my dear brother, how can you be so blindly prejudiced! Can you not see the woman's cunning and artfulness?"

"No, Anne, no. She has been very good and kind."

"Yes; that is it, Ralph dear, playing a part. She has won those two foolish boys to think of her only, and insult poor Saxa and Dana; and now she has ended by winning over poor Isabel, who is in a state of rebellion. I have had a terrible scene with her. She actually takes this dreadful woman's part."

"Poor little Isabel!" sighed the sick man.

"And she's behaving shamefully to poor Sir Cheltnam."

"Ah!"

"Yes; shamefully, Ralph, shamefully."

"And you came to tell me that, my dear?" said Elthorne quietly.

"Yes, Ralph, and it has come to this."

She stopped short, and dabbed her face with her handkerchief.

"Yes, my dear, it has come to this? Tell me. I am tired. I must sleep again."

"That this woman, this nurse must leave the house at once."

"Leave? Nurse Elisia leave?" said Elthorne with a faint smile. "No, my dear, you do not wish to kill me."

"Heaven forbid, Ralph! I will nurse you now, and Isabel shall relieve me from time to time."

"No, my dear, no," he said gently. "You are very good and kind, but you do not understand."

"Not understand nursing?" she cried angrily. "Not such nursing as I require. No, my dear. She cannot go."

"Then I shall," cried Aunt Anne angrily.

Her brother laughed softly.

"No," he said; "you will not go. The house could not exist without you, sister."

"Am I to keep your house, then, or not, Ralph?"

"To keep it? of course, dear, as you always have done."

"I am mistress here, then?"

"Yes, my dear, yes."

"Then that woman goes at once," cried Aunt Anne emphatically.

"No," said Ralph Elthorne quietly.

"But I say yes, Ralph. I am mistress of this house, and it is my duty to send her away."

"And I am master, dear, feeble and broken as I am. She stays till I bid her go."

"Ralph, must I tell you everything I know?"

"There is no need, sister."

"But the woman's antecedents? Maria was at the hospital, and saw all her dreadful goings on with the students, and with poor deluded Neil."

"Maria? Pish!" said Elthorne with a contemptuous smile. "Nurse Elisia's face tells something different from that, my dear. I would sooner believe her candid eyes than Maria Bellow's oath."

"Ralph! Has this dreadful woman bewitched you too?"

"Enough!" he said feebly. "Go to your cupboards and your keys, Anne.

You are a good, true woman, but you have always been as blind and prejudiced as your brother has been overbearing and harsh. This illness has brought me very low, dear, and taught me much. Go now, and remember: I owe Nurse Elisia my life. She is to be treated with respect, and I shall send her away when I think good."

"The woman is a witch," muttered Aunt Anne, as she left the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

DISCUSSING THE PAST.

A fortnight's watching, and the accompaniments of care and skill, had been needed to save Ralph Elthorne from sinking slowly into his grave.

The shock of his seizure had wrought terrible havoc, but the worst was now over, and he was weak, but recovering fast.

There had been no further talk of the nurse leaving, and matters had remained in abeyance. Sir Denton had been down twice and given his instructions, and she had resigned herself to her position--knowing that the invalid depended upon her for everything, refusing even to take his food from other hands, and that if she persisted in her wish to go, the consequences might be terrible.

It must have been a terribly lonely life, for she seemed to be avoided by all in the house. She saw Neil, of course, frequently in the sick room, but few words pa.s.sed, and those he uttered with formal respect, as he gave her some instructions. Alison she saw from time to time, evidently watching her window, and from him came flowers and fruit daily, Maria being the bearer, and setting them down with an insolent sneer, which would have roused one less dignified and patient to some retort. But Nurse Elisia had her consolations in the progress of the patient and the grateful looks he gave her, while, regularly now, stealing in hurriedly, and as if she were performing some guilty act, a little figure crept in, last thing, to pa.s.s its arm about her neck, kiss her, and say "Good-night."

It was then at the end of a fortnight, and Ralph Elthorne, terribly changed, but recovering now fast from the shock, lay near the window, while Nurse Elisia sat close at hand, working, and ready to attend to his lightest wish.

He had been lying there very silent since his son's last visit to the room, when he suddenly raised one thin white hand, and beckoned.

Elisia was at his side in a moment.

"What can I get you, sir?" she said gently.

"Nothing. Come and sit here. I want to talk to you."

"Do you feel strong enough, sir?"

"Yes."