For he was realising for the first time in his life the true meaning of the words “jealous hate”; but through it all there was a glimmering of satisfaction that he was not about to meet his brother on his way, and he shuddered as he thought that sooner or later they must encounter after all.
Chapter Eighteen.
A Sore Little Heart.
Neil Elthorne was in his father’s room when Nurse Elisia returned from her walk, looking agitated and strange. He had found the old man fretful and impatient, full of complaints about the way in which he was neglected by those who ought, he said, to respect and love him all the more for his illness.
“You all have an idea that I am weak and helpless,” he cried; “but it is a mistake. I am a little weak, but quite able to manage the affairs of my house.”
“Of course you are, sir,” said Neil.
Elthorne turned upon him fiercely.
“Don’t speak to me again like that, sir,” he cried. “Do you think I want to be humoured like a child?”