“And you call yourself my brother!” she cried passionately. “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 passion 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.