She held out her hand and he clutched it with both of his, clinging to it spasmodically as his face began to work. "Mr Elthorne!" she cried, startled by the change. "Water," he whispered, and he loosened one hand only as she reached to the table and then held the glass to his lips. "Thank you," he whispered; "thank you. I thought I was stronger. Hah!" He lay back in silence for a time with his eyes closed, but still retaining one of Nurse Elisia's hands. At last he opened his eyes. "Weak now as some poor fretful child," he whispered. "It came home then when you spoke. It cannot be for long, my child. I am only a poor broken man now, against whom his sons rebel, whose daughter is disobedient, and whose sister is ready to trample him down. Don't leave me," he pleaded. "Have pity on me, my child. I could not bear it. I-- I should die." Nurse Elisia looked at him wildly. "No, no," she said hastily. "You feel low and weak to-day. In a short time you will have forgotten all this. I cannot--indeed I cannot stay." But even as she spoke she saw that her patient believed the words he had uttered, and, trembling for the consequences to one in his weak, imaginative state, she hastily promised to give up all thought of going for the present. "Thank you--thank you," he said, trembling as he clung to her hand. "You see how weak and childish I am. Only such a short time back and I was strong, and people hurried to obey my word or look. Now it seems as if everyone were falling away from me--even you." "Oh, no," she said soothingly; "and, besides, what am I to you? Only the hired nurse." "Yes," he said, gazing up at her piteously, "only the hired nurse; and yet you have tended me as if you were my child. But you will stay? You are not trifling with me?" "No, no," she said. "There, it is time you had your sleep." "Yes," he cried bitterly, and with a suspicious look in his eyes. "You are treating me as if I were a child. Go to sleep, so that I may awake by and by and find you gone." She bent down and laid her hand on his, as she smiled sadly in his face. "Have more confidence in me," she whispered. "Have I ever deceived you in the slightest thing? I tell you I will stay till you are more fit to leave." He uttered a low sigh and lay with his eyes half closed. "It is so hard to have confidence when one is helpless as I am. People try to cheat me, and say to themselves, `It is for his good.'" "You may trust me, Mr Elthorne," she said gently, "trust me in everything. Sleep now--that is for your good. You shall find me here, or within call, when you awake." He looked at her sharply once, and then closed his eyes, dropping off at once into a heavy sleep which lasted some hours, but to awaken with a sharp start, and a wildly suspicious look around. The chair, where it seemed to him only a minute before he had seen Nurse Elisia seated, was empty, and he uttered a low, despairing cry.