“Yes,” said Saxa, as he turned to her, and she fixed her eyes firmly upon Neil, “as I will directly, Neil Elthorne.”
“There,” said the father. “You hear, sir? Now, then, speak out and deny it.”
“Deny what?” said Neil slowly.
“That for a long time past you have been carrying on a contemptible flirtation—bah! the wretched word!—that you have been behaving toward Nurse Elisia as the man does to the woman he means to make his wife. I have told Saxa that it is not true.”
Neil remained motionless, forgetting his position on his intense dread regarding his father’s state.
“Come!” said the old man; “this needs no hesitation. Speak out.”
Still Neil remained silent, with something seeming to murmur in his ear: “Deny it. If you speak the truth you will kill him. He could not bear it. She does not love you—she cares for your brother. You must not own the truth and disgrace yourself forever in Saxa Lydon’s eyes.”
“Neil!”
He remained silent still, and the voice seemed to whisper again: “Deny it. The avowal will kill him. You know that in his state it would be his death. You must not—you cannot speak.”
“Once more I ask you, boy, to clear yourself before your betrothed. Tell her it is a lie.”