“The woman is a witch,” muttered Aunt Anne, as she left the room.
Chapter Twenty Three.
Discussing the Past.
A fortnight’s watching, and the accompaniments of care and skill, had been needed to save Ralph Elthorne from sinking slowly into his grave. The shock of his seizure had wrought terrible havoc, but the worst was now over, and he was weak, but recovering fast.
There had been no further talk of the nurse leaving, and matters had remained in abeyance. Sir Denton had been down twice and given his instructions, and she had resigned herself to her position—knowing that the invalid depended upon her for everything, refusing even to take his food from other hands, and that if she persisted in her wish to go, the consequences might be terrible.
It must have been a terribly lonely life, for she seemed to be avoided by all in the house. She saw Neil, of course, frequently in the sick room, but few words passed, and those he uttered with formal respect, as he gave her some instructions. Alison she saw from time to time, evidently watching her window, and from him came flowers and fruit daily, Maria being the bearer, and setting them down with an insolent sneer, which would have roused one less dignified and patient to some retort. But Nurse Elisia had her consolations in the progress of the patient and the grateful looks he gave her, while, regularly now, stealing in hurriedly, and as if she were performing some guilty act, a little figure crept in, last thing, to pass its arm about her neck, kiss her, and say “Good-night.”
It was then at the end of a fortnight, and Ralph Elthorne, terribly changed, but recovering now fast from the shock, lay near the window, while Nurse Elisia sat close at hand, working, and ready to attend to his lightest wish.
He had been lying there very silent since his son’s last visit to the room, when he suddenly raised one thin white hand, and beckoned.