"I promise you," said Neil half sadly, half playfully. "I will watch over you while I stay down here like a lynx." "Oh, my darling brother! But you are not going soon, Neil?" she cried, as she kissed him. "Yes, very soon, dear. I must get back to my poor people and work. But I will work, too, to try and make my little sister happy." "Thank you--thank you--thank you, dear Neil!" cried the girl. "You've made the world seem so bright and happy again; and--and I'm not afraid to meet Sir Cheltnam now--and--and--oh, Neil, Neil, I must go upstairs and have a good cry!" She ran out of the room before he could stop her. "Poor little sis!" he said, as he looked at the door through which she had passed. "Well, I can make someone happy if happiness is not to come to me." He looked sadly about him for a few moments, and then half aloud he whispered, as he formed a mental future: "And I could be so happy, too--if--" CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. NEIL BREAKS HIS PROMISE. "Just going down to dinner?" said Ralph Elthorne, as his son came into his room the same evening. "That's right, Neil. It looks like old times. It does me good. Wait a bit, and I'll join you--as of old. Not quite," he added, and his lip quivered--"not quite, my boy. But I can be carried down, and I shall not be an invalid." "No, sir," said Neil, "no invalid, and you will soon forget your lameness." "Yes, yes, Neil, I shall try hard to do that. There, I will not keep you. I'm getting independent, you see. Ask nurse to come and sit with me as you go out." There was no need, for as Neil rose to go down, the nurse entered, book in hand, but drew back till the young surgeon had left the room to go thoughtfully downstairs, for he was forcing himself to think out what it would be best to do respecting his sister. He shrank from disturbing his father's mind, now that he was so much better and free from disturbing elements. A subject like that might bring on a fresh attack, or at least retard his progress, and by the time Neil had reached the drawing room he had planned that he would speak firmly to Burwood; but he paused at the door, for he foresaw that such a proceeding would very likely drive the baronet to speak to his father, when the agitation would only be coming from another source. "Bel must fight her own battle," he said to himself. "A woman ought to be able to cool a lover's courage. There the matter must wait. Like many more of the kind, give it time and it will settle itself." He entered the room, to find the objects of his thoughts all there and waiting his coming. Aunt Anne was radiant, and Burwood, who was chatting with Alison upon the everlasting theme of the horse, came and shook hands in the warmest manner. "I can't quarrel with him," thought Neil. "It must be done by diplomacy or scheming." The dinner was announced directly after, and as Neil took in his sister, she pressed his arm.