Nurse Elisia. Fenn George Manville
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Mr Elthorne.
“Nothing, sir, nothing.”
“You looked as if I had said something shocking. Look here, Neil, my boy, as you are down at last, suppose you try if you cannot make up a little for lost time. You know what I mean.”
“Hush! Beck will hear you,” said the young surgeon quickly.
“Let him stand a little farther off, then,” said Mr Elthorne peevishly; “but,” he continued, in a lower tone of voice, “Saxa feels hurt; I know she does. She tries to carry it off by being boisterous and merry, but she is piqued by your coldness.”
“You still foster that idea, then, sir?”
“Foster? That idea? Of course, sir; and I should like to see you display a little more warmth respecting the carrying out of your father’s wishes. There, I’m not going to scold now you have come down; but just keep my last letter in mind. A bright, pretty young wife with two thousand a year and more to come later on, is not to be sneered at, my boy, and you must not quite bury yourself in London over your hospital work.”
He turned sharply.
“Really, Beck,” he cried, “I’m afraid I have behaved very rudely to you.”
“Very, sir,” thought the young man. “Don’t mention it, sir,” he said aloud.
“Let’s see: you are coming with us this morning?”
“I think you asked me to come, Mr Elthorne,” said Beck quietly.
“To be sure – of course – I am very forgetful. Come in – come in. Oh, by the way, would you mind telling your father that I cannot accede to his request. I think I have done quite enough for those people, and they must now shift for themselves. One wants to be charitable, but even charity has its limits. Come, you folks, breakfast, breakfast,” he cried cheerily, as Sir Cheltnam and Alison came up with Isabel.
“Poor Beck is right,” thought Neil, as he saw his father’s particularly cordial greeting of the baronet. “It is time to speak. But too late, I fear, after all.”
“Ah, Neil, my dear,” cried Aunt Anne, kissing him affectionately. “I’m so glad to see you home again. I hope you slept comfortably. And how is poor Maria?”
“Getting well fast, Aunt, dear.”
“That’s right. I’m so glad, for I do want her back very badly.”
“Breakfast! – something solid, and less talk,” shouted Mr Elthorne loudly, and the meal progressed, the head of the house leading the conversation, and always to one topic – his new horse.
Chapter Four.
The New Horse
“Well, Isabel,” said Neil, in an undertone, as his father was loudly debating with Sir Cheltnam some vital question in which bits, bridles, and surcingles were mentioned again and again.
“Well, Neil, dear,” said the girl archly; “why do you keep looking out of the window? It is not Saxa’s time yet.”
“Thank goodness!” he said to himself. Then aloud: “Facetious this morning, eh? Two can play at that, as we used to say when I was at home. Which is it to be – Sir Cheltnam or the sailor boy?” The arch expression passed away from Isabel’s countenance on the instant. She gave a frightened glance round the table, as if dreading that the brother’s words had been overheard, and then, bending down over her cup, she whispered:
“Don’t, please, Neil, dear. You hurt me when you talk like that.”
“Then you do care for Beck?” he said in a sharp whisper.
“I – I don’t know,” she faltered.
“Well, you know that he cares for you?”
She gave him a piteous look.
“And you know, too, that he is going to speak to your father this morning?”
“O Neil, dear, he must not,” whispered the girl, in an agony of fear.
“But he must if he means to win you. I advised him to do so.”
Isabel caught hold of the cloth below the level of the table and glanced wildly at Beck, but he could not interpret the meaning of the look, and replied to it with one full of hope.
The little party rose from the table soon after and fate favoured the sailor by giving him the opportunity he sought – Mr Elthorne crossing the hall to the library, while the others went out on to the lawn.
“Eh! Want to speak to me, Beck?” said Mr Elthorne. “Come in here.”
He closed the door after the young officer, and pointed to a chair.
“Sit down, my lad,” he said pleasantly. “Now I’ll be bound to say I can guess what you are about to say.”
“You can, sir?” said Beck eagerly.
“I think so,” said Mr Elthorne, with rather a set smile on his lips. “You were going to tell me that you have to start for the East in a very few days – am I right so far?”
“Yes, sir, quite.”
“And that, as I have known you from a boy, you felt that without hesitation you might speak to me and not trouble your father. Still right?”
“Yes, sir – I think so.”
“I felt it at once,” said Mr Elthorne nodding. “Well, yes, my lad, I will try and oblige you. How much do you want?”
“Want? How much?” cried the young man, starting up with his face flushing. “Did you think I wanted to borrow money, sir?”
“Yes, my lad, of course.”
“Oh, no, sir,” he cried; and, excited now by his position, he somewhat blunderingly, but with manly frankness, told how long he had loved Isabel, and asked for a sanction to his engagement.
Mr Elthorne heard him in silence to the end, and then said briefly: “Impossible.”
“Impossible, sir?”
“Quite, my lad. It is all a boy and a girl piece of nonsense. Yes; you two have known each other from children, been playfellows and the like, but I could never sanction my child’s marriage to one who leads such a life as yours.”
“But, Mr Elthorne – ”
“Hear me out, my lad. I tell you frankly, I like you and always did as a boy and the friend of my sons, but as my prospective son-in-law, once for all, it is impossible.”
“Mr Elthorne!” cried the young man appealingly.
“No, my lad, no; so give up all thought of it at once. Isabel will leave home one of these days, but not with you. You are not the man. Do you ride with us this morning?”
Beck did not answer for the moment, for he was half stunned, but an angry flush came into his cheeks just then, for Sir Cheltnam’s voice was heard through the open window. There was the cause of his rejection, he felt sure, and, full of resentment and the feeling that Mr Elthorne had not treated him well, he replied sharply:
“Yes, sir, I shall go with the party this morning, and if I tell you that I cannot give up my hopes – ”
“Ah, well,” said Mr Elthorne sharply, “you will think differently, I dare say, after the first smart of the disappointment has worn off.”
“Ready, father?” came from the window.
“Yes. Have they got the horse round?”
“All right. Burwood is going to try him over a fence or two before we start.”
“I’ll come,” said Mr Elthorne. “You like horses, Beck; come and see the leaping.”
Beck followed mechanically, cut to the heart by the half-contemptuous, cold-blooded way in which his aspirations were treated, and in a few minutes he stood with the others looking at the noble looking animal held by a groom, while Sir Cheltnam examined him after the fashion