Nurse Elisia

“Sorry I can’t return the compliment, my boy. You look, white and careworn. Never mind; we’ll soon blow the London smoke out of you. Can you manage a ride after breakfast?”

“Yes, and enjoy it.”

“That’s right. The Lydon girls are coming over, and we’ll mount you on the old cob. By the way, I thought I heard Burwood’s voice.”

“He is down the garden with Alison,” said Neil.

“That’s right. I asked him to come over to breakfast. He is going to try my new purchase for me. But it’s of no use to talk horseflesh to you. Well, my dear?”

This to Isabel, who came running out, looking very innocent and girlish.

“Good-morning, papa,” she cried, kissing him. “I did not know you were down. Good-morning, Mr Beck,” she continued shyly, as she let her hand rest in his for a moment, and then turned to her brother to kiss him affectionately. “I’m so glad you’ve come, dear Neil.”

“Let’s have breakfast, Isabel. Aunt’s not down, I suppose?”

“Oh, yes, papa, and waiting for us.”

“Wonderful!” said Mr Elthorne grimly. “Run down the garden, Isabel, and fetch Alison and Sir Cheltnam in to breakfast. Will you have a cup of coffee, Beck?” he continued rather coldly.

“Thank you, sir, I have breakfasted, but – ”

“Oh, he can manage another,” said Neil laughingly. “Come along, Tom;” and then to himself: “Poor boy! It will be no, for certain.”

Mr Elthorne took no further notice of the young sailor, but laid his hand upon his son’s shoulder and pointed to a clump of trees at the farther end of the park.

“I’m going to have those down, Neil.”

“Pity, isn’t it, sir?”

“No; if it were I should not take them away. They shut off the view in that direction. And I’m going to make an opening out there,” he continued, pointing due south. “All improvements for your benefit, sir.”

“Say for Alison’s, father. I shall never settle down here.”

“Humph! No?” said Mr Elthorne, glancing sidewise at his son. “If you go on like this you’ll be an old man before I am. I must have a talk to Saxa about you.”

Neil looked round sharply.

“Well, what is it?” said Mr Elthorne.

“Nothing, sir, nothing.”

“You looked as if I had said something shocking. Look here, Neil, my boy, as you are down at last, suppose you try if you cannot make up a little for lost time. You know what I mean.”

“Hush! Beck will hear you,” said the young surgeon quickly.

“Let him stand a little farther off, then,” said Mr Elthorne peevishly; “but,” he continued, in a lower tone of voice, “Saxa feels hurt; I know she does. She tries to carry it off by being boisterous and merry, but she is piqued by your coldness.”

“You still foster that idea, then, sir?”

“Foster? That idea? Of course, sir; and I should like to see you display a little more warmth respecting the carrying out of your father’s wishes. There, I’m not going to scold now you have come down; but just keep my last letter in mind. A bright, pretty young wife with two thousand a year and more to come later on, is not to be sneered at, my boy, and you must not quite bury yourself in London over your hospital work.”

He turned sharply.

“Really, Beck,” he cried, “I’m afraid I have behaved very rudely to you.”

“Very, sir,” thought the young man. “Don’t mention it, sir,” he said aloud.

“Let’s see: you are coming with us this morning?”

“I think you asked me to come, Mr Elthorne,” said Beck quietly.

“To be sure – of course – I am very forgetful. Come in – come in. Oh, by the way, would you mind telling your father that I cannot accede to his request. I think I have done quite enough for those people, and they must now shift for themselves. One wants to be charitable, but even charity has its limits. Come, you folks, breakfast, breakfast,” he cried cheerily, as Sir Cheltnam and Alison came up with Isabel.

“Poor Beck is right,” thought Neil, as he saw his father’s particularly cordial greeting of the baronet. “It is time to speak. But too late, I fear, after all.”

“Ah, Neil, my dear,” cried Aunt Anne, kissing him affectionately. “I’m so glad to see you home again. I hope you slept comfortably. And how is poor Maria?”

“Getting well fast, Aunt, dear.”

“That’s right. I’m so glad, for I do want her back very badly.”

“Breakfast! – something solid, and less talk,” shouted Mr Elthorne loudly, and the meal progressed, the head of the house leading the conversation, and always to one topic – his new horse.

Chapter Four.

The New Horse

“Well, Isabel,” said Neil, in an undertone, as his father was loudly debating with Sir Cheltnam some vital question in which bits, bridles, and surcingles were mentioned again and again.

“Well, Neil, dear,” said the girl archly; “why do you keep looking out of the window? It is not Saxa’s time yet.”

“Thank goodness!” he said to himself. Then aloud: “Facetious this morning, eh? Two can play at that, as we used to say when I was at home. Which is it to be – Sir Cheltnam or the sailor boy?” The arch expression passed away from Isabel’s countenance on the instant. She gave a frightened glance round the table, as if dreading that the brother’s words had been overheard, and then, bending down over her cup, she whispered:

“Don’t, please, Neil, dear. You hurt me when you talk like that.”

“Then you do care for Beck?” he said in a sharp whisper.

“I – I don’t know,” she faltered.

“Well, you know that he cares for you?”

She gave him a piteous look.

“And you know, too, that he is going to speak to your father this morning?”

“O Neil, dear, he must not,” whispered the girl, in an agony of fear.

“But he must if he means to win you. I advised him to do so.”