“Yes, of course,” said Alison eagerly. “And you must be tired and faint. Had any dinner? Here, come with me, and I’ll show you the way to the dining room.”
Nurse Elisia hesitated, and at that moment the drawing-room door opened, shedding a flood of light upon the portion of the staircase where they stood, and Neil Elthorne was conscious of a keen pang which for the moment he could not have explained.
“Oh, there you are,” cried Alison sharply. “This lady does not know the way.”
Aunt Anne’s lips tightened again as she stepped forward majestically.
“Will you come this way, nurse, and I’ll show you my brother’s room,” she said; and her dress rustled loudly, as if partaking of its owner’s agitation, while she crossed the hall and began to ascend the stairs.
Nurse Elisia stood, candle in hand, waiting patiently and gazing at the plump elderly lady approaching her, in profound ignorance of the picturesque, striking aspect she presented as she held up the light whose rays illumined her features.
“I really don’t like her at all,” said Aunt Anne to herself, as her brow furrowed. “What a dreadful looking woman.” And the memory of certain words she had spoken to her niece only a short time back came vividly before her. “I would a great deal rather it had been one of those old-fashioned stout nurses who did not wear white starched caps and black dresses, just as if they were playing at being nurses. This way, please,” she continued aloud.
One minute the light shone strongly upon that white face; the next it seemed as if darkness had suddenly come over the scene and those in the hall were looking at two silhouettes moving up after a dull glow of light, to disappear through an archway; and then Neil Elthorne felt a pang of rage and misery shoot through him as, from the first landing of the broad staircase, he heard Alison exclaim aloud:
“By George!”
He descended then quickly to where Neil and Isabel were standing.