She looked at him wildly, and then, growing momentarily less self-controlled, she avoided his eyes and turned to the invalid, bending down over him gently. "Mr Elthorne," she said; "you have heard your son's words as regards your state. I cannot stay here now. Give me your permission to go." He looked at her sadly, and feebly shook his head. "No, nurse," he whispered huskily. "You cannot go. Not yet--not yet." She started, for he raised his hand, took hers and held it while he gazed half wonderingly in her face, as Neil, unable to conceal his feelings, hurried away to his own room. "I am not fit to be left, nurse," said Ralph Elthorne gently. "You know how ill and weak I am." A sob rose in her throat as she tried to be calm, while he gazed intently in her face, scanning each feature. "So weak, so helpless," he muttered, as if to himself, but she heard every word; "and I never thought of this, I never thought of this. Yes, Anne. You wish to see me?" "Yes, dear," said that lady, who had entered now unannounced even by a tap on the door. "Yes, Ralph. I want to speak to you very particularly." He turned to Nurse Elisia, and spoke in an apologetic manner, and very feebly. "Leave us, please, nurse," he said. "I will talk to you later on." "No, sir," she whispered. "Give me leave to go." "Not yet, not yet," he replied. "I will lie here and think. It is all so sudden." Then, with a sudden flash of his old manner, "No; you are not to go until I give you leave." She glanced at Aunt Anne, who had ignored her presence entirely, and then she went slowly to the room set apart for her use, asking herself how all this would end, and whether it would not be wiser to leave the house at once, and end the painful position in which she stood. "Well, Anne, dear," said Mr Elthorne feebly. "You want to speak to me?" "Yes, Ralph, I must speak to you now." "Speak gently, then, dear; I am much weaker. Not so well to-day." "And never will be well again, Ralph, with the house in this state," cried Aunt Anne, ruffling up, and speaking excitedly. "What, what do you mean?" he faltered; and it was like the shadow of his former self speaking. "What do I mean, Ralph? I mean that the place has not been the same since that dreadful woman came." "You are wrong, my dear, you are wrong," he said querulously. "So good and attentive to me. I should have been dead before now if it had not been for her." "Oh, my dear brother, how can you be so blindly prejudiced! Can you not see the woman's cunning and artfulness?" "No, Anne, no. She has been very good and kind." "Yes; that is it, Ralph dear, playing a part. She has won those two foolish boys to think of her only, and insult poor Saxa and Dana; and now she has ended by winning over poor Isabel, who is in a state of rebellion. I have had a terrible scene with her. She actually takes this dreadful woman's part." "Poor little Isabel!" sighed the sick man.