“Crying, Isabel? What is the matter, dear?”
She had not heard the door opened, and she started to her feet to throw herself upon Nurse Elisia’s breast, sobbing out her trouble, and dread of the meeting on the following Tuesday, when she knew that in her mistaken notions of duty, Aunt Anne would contrive that she and Sir Cheltnam should be left alone.
Chapter Twenty Five.
A Counterplot.
Neil Elthorne’s absence from the hospital was rapidly extending to a term of months, broken only by a weekly visit, during the last of which Sir Denton, after hearing the report upon Ralph Elthorne’s health, had said quietly:
“Never mind if you have to be away from here another month, my dear boy. You are not right yet yourself. You look careworn and anxious. I am managing very well, and I want you to be quite strong before you return. By the way, I have not filled up that post yet. I have had three men engaged one after the other, but they have all turned tail—backed out of it. You will not alter your mind? Fine opportunity for a brave man, Elthorne.”
“No, I cannot leave England,” replied Neil firmly. “There are reasons why I must stay.”
“A lady, of course,” said Sir Denton to himself. “I did once think—but never mind. He knows his own affairs best.”