He started from his reverie, which had in spirit taken him back to the hospital where the tall, graceful figure glided silently from bed to bed, and the colour mounted quickly to his cheeks as a faint tapping came at the door, and upon his opening it he started again, for there was a figure, tall and slight, indistinctly seen in the darkness, as if his thoughts had evoked the presence of her upon whom his mind had dwelt. "It is only I, Neil, dear," whispered a pleasant, silvery voice. "Isabel? I thought you were in bed." "How could you, Neil, dear!" she said reproachfully. "I could not go to bed and sleep knowing you were sitting up with poor papa. How is he now, dear?" "Just the same, and must be for some time." Isabel sighed. "Neil, dear," she whispered, "I've got a spirit-lamp and kettle in the next room, and as soon as you like I'll make you some tea." "Thank you, my dear. Leave it ready and I'll make some myself." "No, no, Neil, dear," she said, clinging to him. "Don't send me away. I could not sleep to-night." "But you must, dear. I want you to be rested and strong, so as to come and sit with him to-morrow while I have some sleep." "Yes, dear, of course," she whispered, as she crept closer within the protecting arm round her, and laid her head upon her brother's shoulder. "Come, come," Neil whispered, as he stroked her soft hair, "you must not fret and give way. Troubles come into every family, and we must learn to bear them with fortitude." "Yes, Neil, dear, and I am trying hard to bear this bravely." She nestled to him more closely, and as he smoothed her hair again and stroked her cheek, gazing down the while at its soft outline, he could not help thinking how attractive in appearance she had grown. "There," he said at last. "Now you must go." "Yes, dear, directly. But--Neil--" "What is it?" "May I talk to you?" "Of course." "But as I used when you were at home and I told you all my secrets?" "I hope you will, Bel. Why shouldn't you trust your big brother?" "Yes; why not?" she said eagerly. "And you will not think me a silly girl nor forward?" "I hope not." "Nor that I should not have spoken to you at such a time?" "Why, what is the terrible secret, then?" he whispered, as he kissed her tenderly and made her throw her arms about his neck and utter a sob. "Ah, I see; something about Beck." She hid her face on his shoulder, and he felt her nod her head. "He told me what you said to him, dear," she whispered. "It was very dreadful at a time like this, but I could not help him speaking." "Oh, he told you, eh?" "Yes, dear, and he told me what papa said." "Don't--don't talk about it, my child. It seems too terrible now."