“They went home, papa, dear, about two,” whispered Isabel; “but don’t try to talk, now. Look at me, and I’ll try to understand what you mean.”
He took no notice of her prayer, but closed his eyes, and lay apparently thinking, his next words indicating that he recalled what had taken place.
“Yes,” he said gently; “they could not stay here. Tell Alison and your aunt to go and then you go too.”
Neil advanced just then to watch his father narrowly, but the old man made no sign of anger. He lay quite calm and still, as if utterly exhausted, but his son noted that he watched until Aunt Anne and Alison had gone, when he unclosed his eyes fully, and whispered to Isabel to leave.
“May I not stay, papa? I may be wanted.”
“No. You have been here all night. Kiss me and go—”
Isabel bent down weeping, pressed her lips on her father’s brow, and then left the room, with Nurse Elisia and Neil both watching patiently as the stricken man’s eyes remained fast shut.
But he was quite conscious, for upon Neil approaching the couch after a time, his lips parted.
“I am not asleep,” he said, gently, “only very weak. You need not both stay.”
Neil looked at his father wonderingly, and with something of dread, the old man seemed so passionless and strange.