“No, no!” cried the old man irritably. “You are deceiving me, for my good as you call it, and as you owned a little while back.”
“Indeed, no,” said Neil quietly. “I only owned to keeping back the fact that Sir Denton was coming down till the morning of his visit, so as to save you from brooding over it and getting anxious.”
“Well, what is that but deceiving me as I say, and treating me as a child?”
“Surely not, my dear father.”
“I say it is, and it is cruel. I want to trust you, but you all, even to Isabel, join in cheating me, for my good as you are pleased to call it.”
Neil glanced at the nurse, who met his eyes, but, quick as lightning the sick man raised his hand, half menacingly, at his son.
“Hah!” he cried, “don’t try to corrupt her, and induce her to join your conspiracy; I can read your looks—‘Don’t contradict him.’ She is honest; I can trust her. You will tell me the simple truth, nurse, will you not?” he said, holding one hand over the back of the couch toward her.
She stepped nearer, and took the extended hand. “Indeed, I will, sir,” she said gently; and then, with a smile, “unless, sir, I were forbidden.”
“What?” he cried, withdrawing his hand.
“There might be a crisis in your illness when your medical adviser felt it was absolutely necessary, for your own sake, to keep back something of your state.”