“Yes, yes,” said Neil. “You are right, and I will try—we will all try—to face the trouble as we should. But you will stay the night and see him in the morning.”
“No, I can do no good. You will act in everything exactly as I should, and there are others waiting in agony for my return.”
“But—”
“You know in your heart what I say is just, my dear Elthorne. Come, pupil, your old master trusts you,” said the surgeon, taking his hand. “Forget for the time being that the patient is a relative; sink everything in the scientific aspects of the case; do your duty, and trust yourself. Now, God bless you, and good-bye.”
He grasped the young surgeon’s hands warmly and turned to go, but stopped short.
“I shall get someone to come and lend me a hand, so that you can stay down here as long as is necessary, but you will be able to come up for a day or two at the end of a week. Of course the first thing is to send you down an efficient nurse. Everything will depend upon her, as you know.”
“Yes,” said Neil huskily, and he walked out into the hall.
“I will not ask to see your sister or your aunt, Elthorne. My kindest regards, and I hope to renew my friendship with them at some happier time.”
He stepped into the waiting fly and looked at his watch.
“Tell him to drive fast, and I shall just catch the last up-train. Good-bye.”