Chapter Fifteen.
A Tempting Offer.
“Never again as of old.”
The words seemed to quiver in the silence of the sick chamber as Nurse Elisia uttered what, to the sufferer, sounded like a sentence, the more terrible as coming from one so grave, calm, and unimpassioned as the beautiful woman who stood before him; and as he lay, gazing wildly at the speaker, Neil saw his father’s eyelids tremble and then slowly drop over the dilated eyes, while his worn, thin, wrinkled face was contracted. But he opened his eyes again, and clung tightly to the nurse’s hand.
“Yes,” he said firmly, “that is the truth. Thank you, nurse, thank you. God bless you for what you have done for a poor helpless cripple.”
He drew her down toward him as he spoke till he could kiss her brow, and then, as she rose, he released her hand.
“Thank you,” he said quietly; “thank you. Yes, that is the truth. But I shall be out again, Neil, weak in body, but not imbecile. I shall still be the Squire, boy. I am the Squire. Now, tell me: why is Sir Denton coming down?”
“Simply for me to ask his opinion, father,” said Neil, seating himself again, and resisting the temptation to offer the nurse a chair. But before he could continue it seemed as if his thoughts had been communicated to the patient, who turned toward her.
“Sit down, nurse,” he said. “I am wearing you out with attending on me.”
“Indeed no, Mr Elthorne—” she began.
“Sit down,” he cried imperiously, and she quietly obeyed.
“Now go on, Neil.”
“Of course I have studied your case very hard,” said the son, “and I have certain ideas that I should like to test. I believe they would strengthen you, but I will not do anything without getting my opinions endorsed by a man of greater experience.”
“Humph! That’s sensible; eh, nurse?”
She bowed gravely.
“So I wrote to Sir Denton at length, telling him what I had arrived at, and asking him to come down the first free day he had, or, I should say, the first time he had a few hours, to see you, and give me his advice.”
“Is that all?” said Mr Elthorne sharply.
“Everything, father.”
“Humph! Well, that’s right, my boy, quite right. Don’t experiment upon me,” he said, with a painful laugh. “After fighting through all this I can’t afford to go backward. Keep the experiment for some poor hospital patient.”
The words jarred on Neil, and he glanced quickly at the nurse, to see that there was a pained look in her eyes, but it passed off as she saw that she was observed.
“Well, when do you expect him?” said Mr Elthorne.
“Almost directly, sir.”
“And why was I not told?”
“For fear of agitating you, and setting you brooding over it. Besides, I was not sure when he would come down.”
“Humph! Well, don’t treat me as if I were a child, boy. I can think if I can’t walk. And I must be got out now. Has that chair come down?”
“Yes.”
“That’s right. I’ll be carried down on Friday when my girls come. If they call before then they are to be brought up. No, no; I know what you are going to say—that they will talk too much. It will do me good to hear Saxa’s chatter and Dana’s prattle. When did you see them last?”
In spite of himself Neil glanced at the nurse as he answered:
“I hardly know. On Sunday, I think.”
“You hardly know! On Sunday, you think! My dear boy, what a dreamer you have become! Lucky for you that Saxa is what she is.”
It was hard work for Neil to keep his eyes averted from the nurse. “What will she think?” he said to himself.
The sound of wheels on the drive put an end to the conversation, Neil hurrying out to welcome the great surgeon, who declined all refreshment until after he had heard full particulars of the progress of the case and seen the patient.
“I could not have done differently,” said Sir Denton at last. “You found Nurse Elisia invaluable, of course?”
“Invaluable.”
“Then now let us go up and see him.”
Neil led the way to where Ralph Elthorne lay helpless, but with his eyes gazing keenly at him as they entered.
“Ah, good-morning, Mr Elthorne,” cried Sir Denton cheerily. “Good-morning, nurse. Now, sir, you know why I have come?”
“Yes, my son has told me,” replied the injured man, watching his visitor’s expression. “Well? Am I worse?”
“No, sir; much better. There is no doubt of that. There is a vigour in your manner and speech that is most satisfactory.”
“But I am always to be a helpless cripple?” said Elthorne bitterly.
Sir Denton did not reply for a few moments, but sat gazing in the patient’s eyes.
“You wish me to answer that question?” he said at last.
“Of course.”
“Then I will. I can answer a man of your strength of intellect, Mr Elthorne. Yes, sir. No surgical skill could restore you.”
He stopped short and watched the patient intently. “That’s well,” he went on. “You bear the announcement manfully. Quite right, for your life has been saved, Mr Elthorne; and with the palliatives that mechanical skill can supply you with, you ought to and can enjoy many years of useful life. Your son has thoroughly explained to me his intentions regarding your future treatment, and I fully endorse his ideas. They will benefit you, but do not expect too much.”
“Condemned to a life of helplessness!” muttered Elthorne in a low voice.
“No, sir, you have your brain intact,” said Sir Denton. “Thank God for that.”
“Yes,” said Elthorne, gripping the surgeon’s hand, “thank God for that. I will not repine, Sir Denton, for I can think, and will, and be obeyed. Do you hear, Neil? and be obeyed. The head is right.”
“Yes, and the heart, Mr Elthorne. So no despair, sir. Meet your trouble like a man. You can be a successful general yet in the battle of life.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“My dear Mr Elthorne, I wish I could hold out hopes of an ultimate recovery of the use of your limbs, but, with a man like you, a frank, open statement is best. You know the worst, and you can get over the difficulties. I can say no more, unless I deliver a eulogy upon your son’s skill.”
“Don’t do that,” said the invalid grimly; “he is conceited enough already.”
“Then I will leave you now and ask for a little refreshment. I have had nothing but a cup of tea since my dinner last evening.”
He rose, shook hands, and then turned to Nurse Elisia.
“I miss you sadly, nurse, but I suppose you cannot be spared for the present.”
“Spared?” cried Elthorne quickly. “No, no; certainly not.”
“But I want her in my ward, Mr Elthorne,” said Sir Denton, smiling.
“Yes, after a time. But not yet. I am so helpless at present.”
“Well, well, we shall see,” said Sir Denton pleasantly. “It is mutually satisfactory. Nurse was suffering from our close London hospital air, and overworked. The change here has worked wonders. Good-bye, Mr Elthorne. I congratulate you upon the skill your son has shown.”
He shook hands, and left patient and nurse together, descending with Neil to the drawing room, where Isabel, Alison, and Aunt Anne were waiting to hear his report.
“Oh, I am glad,” cried Aunt Anne, wiping her eyes; and then: “You think he can do without the nurse now?”
Alison gave her a furious look, which did not escape Neil.
“Eh? Do without the nurse?” cried Sir Denton. “I did not say so. No, my dear madam, her attention is more necessary than ever, I am sorry to say.”
Aunt Anne’s plump countenance bespoke her disappointment.
“You are sorry to say?” she said.
“Yes, my dear madam, for I want her back in town.”
Lunch was at an end, and the carriage at the door. Sir Denton shook hands and went out into the hall with Neil, took up his hat, set it down again, looked at his watch, and replaced it.
“About half an hour to spare, eh, Elthorne?”
“Yes, quite.”
“Take me down the garden, then, where I can see flowers growing. God bless them! I wish I were a gardener. I want to speak to you.”
Neil led the way down a sunny walk, beneath an ancient red brick wall, the old surgeon looking sharply about him till they reached a sundial standing upon a moss-eaten stone. Here he paused and rested his elbow on the copper disk, like a modern figure of Time.
“Neil Elthorne,” he said, “I like you.”
Neil smiled.
“The feeling is mutual, Sir Denton.”
“I know it, my dear boy. You are my favourite pupil, and I want to see you rise. Now, do not be startled. I have been requested to select an able man who promises to be eminent to send out to Black Port.”
“On the west coast of Africa?”
“Yes. To establish a hospital there—a cosmopolitan hospital in which government is interested. It is a terrible place, but a medical man knows how to take care of himself. He would have to engage for five years; the pay is very high; and he would have to devote himself to his task, above all in trying to ameliorate—cure if he can, and I believe it possible—the local disease, which is increasing fast. I do not conceal from you that there will be risks; but the man who goes out there for a few years and works, will come back to be loaded with honours, and take a very high position in his profession. A knighthood will probably follow. If I were a young man I would go, but I must content myself at my age with my ward in London. Now, then, there is plenty of time for consideration, but I should like to go back with some idea. I have not spoken yet to a soul, and I need not tell you that it would be a wrench to part with you; but it is your opportunity, and, as I have your future success at heart, I want to see you rise. Will you go?”
“I, Sir Denton? It is the opening for a physician.”
“As much for a surgeon, my dear boy. He must be both. You are as good a surgeon as I am.”
“Oh, Sir Denton!”
“You need not exclaim. I am not blind. I have had vast experience, but I am getting old and weaker. You have all that my experience has taught you, and, in addition, youth and a thoughtful, originating brain. I tell you frankly, because you are not a weak fool who would be puffed up: long before you are my age you will stand far higher than I do. I don’t want to send you out there because I am jealous of you,” he added laughingly.
“But I should not be equal to the task from the medical point of view.”
“Nonsense, my lad! If I wanted medical help, I would far rather come to you for it than to any man in our hospital. Now, don’t decide rashly; take time to think it over. You would not have to go for two or three months. There, I need say no more save repeating this: it is a terrible place from a health point of view, but the man who goes will be able to do something to lessen the risks, and government will help him in his movements for sanitation. Now, I must be off. Pick me a few flowers. Aha! That is charming,” he cried, as he saw Isabel waiting with a bunch she had hastily cut in one of the houses. “Thank you, my dear child. Those shall stand in water in my room in memory of a delightful visit. I envy you your life in this charming old place. Good-bye.”
He shook hands with Isabel again, and walked back to the carriage with Neil, who looked very thoughtful.
“You can write and ask any questions,” said Sir Denton, “and in a week you will give me your decision.”
“I will give it you now, Sir Denton,” said Neil gravely. “It is no.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
“You will not alter your mind?”
“No; I shall stay in England—with you.”
“I am very sorry, Neil Elthorne, for some things—very glad for others. The first is for you—the latter for myself. Good-bye. Tell him to go fast.” The horses sprang off, and Neil stood thinking in the carriage drive.
“A lady in the case,” said Sir Denton. “Well! it is human nature, and I am not sorry—for both their sakes. He loves her, and some day he will come and tell me.”
At that moment Neil turned to re-enter the house, and his eyes lighted upon Nurse Elisia at the first-floor window watching the departing carriage. Their eyes met, and she drew back.
Neil sighed, and then felt a spasm of pain shoot through him, for he saw that his brother was close at hand, and that he must have seen the direction of his eyes, for there was a frown upon his brow which was there still as he said roughly:
“The old man’s gone, then. I suppose he’ll charge a pretty penny for coming down all this way?”
Neil looked at him in surprise for the moment, but directly after he felt that his brother had merely spoken to conceal his thoughts, and he was thinking this as he replied:
“Charge? No. I shall give him a check for the railway fare. He would look upon it as an insult if I offered him a fee.”