“I don’t want sympathy,” cried Mr Elthorne. “I want help. I want you to go now. Shut the door after them, Alison. You can stop. Now,” he continued angrily, as soon as they were alone, and he fixed his eyes fiercely upon his elder son’s, “you chose to be a doctor, sir, and I gave way unwillingly. I studied no expense, and you have gone on studying up your profession. But, once for all, if I am to take any of your assistance, I warn you that I will have none of the tricks of your trade played upon me.”
“My dear father, pray be calm,” said Neil anxiously.
“Did you hear what I said, sir? Be calm! Am I not calm? There you are bringing out all your medical stock in trade—medical cant to bear.”
Neil looked at him anxiously, and saw that he was wild in his manner, and that there was a curiously excited glare in his eyes which troubled him a good deal, and affected his words as he replied.
“Now,” cried his father, “tell me at once, what did Sir Denton say?”
“That you must be kept perfectly quiet, sir, and be troubled by nothing exciting.”
“Why?” said Mr Elthorne sharply. “Did he say that my case was hopeless, and that I must die?”
“No; decidedly not. Nothing of the kind, sir. He told me that you only needed proper nursing to recover.”
“To recover my health?”
“Yes, sir.”