“Poor little Isabel!” sighed the sick man.
“And she’s behaving shamefully to poor Sir Cheltnam.”
“Ah!”
“Yes; shamefully, Ralph, shamefully.”
“And you came to tell me that, my dear?” said Elthorne quietly.
“Yes, Ralph, and it has come to this.”
She stopped short, and dabbed her face with her handkerchief.
“Yes, my dear, it has come to this? Tell me. I am tired. I must sleep again.”
“That this woman, this nurse must leave the house at once.”
“Leave? Nurse Elisia leave?” said Elthorne with a faint smile. “No, my dear, you do not wish to kill me.”