He looked at her sadly, and feebly shook his head.
“No, nurse,” he whispered huskily. “You cannot go. Not yet—not yet.”
She started, for he raised his hand, took hers and held it while he gazed half wonderingly in her face, as Neil, unable to conceal his feelings, hurried away to his own room.
“I am not fit to be left, nurse,” said Ralph Elthorne gently. “You know how ill and weak I am.”
A sob rose in her throat as she tried to be calm, while he gazed intently in her face, scanning each feature.
“So weak, so helpless,” he muttered, as if to himself, but she heard every word; “and I never thought of this, I never thought of this. Yes, Anne. You wish to see me?”
“Yes, dear,” said that lady, who had entered now unannounced even by a tap on the door. “Yes, Ralph. I want to speak to you very particularly.” He turned to Nurse Elisia, and spoke in an apologetic manner, and very feebly.
“Leave us, please, nurse,” he said. “I will talk to you later on.”
“No, sir,” she whispered. “Give me leave to go.”
“Not yet, not yet,” he replied. “I will lie here and think. It is all so sudden.” Then, with a sudden flash of his old manner, “No; you are not to go until I give you leave.”