"Yes, dear, it does," she said with a sob, "but the words would come. Let me ask you one thing, Neil, dear, and then I will not say another word. I wouldn't say this, only it is so very terrible to me, and it's all so still and quiet here now in the middle of the night, and it seems just the time for speaking." "What is it, then?" Isabel was silent for a few moments, and then, with her lips very close to her brother's ear, she whispered: "Neil, dear, do you feel sure that papa will get better?" "Yes; I do not think there is any doubt about it." Isabel uttered a sigh full of relief, and, leaving her brother, went softly to the bedside to bend down and kiss the sufferer's brow. Then returning, she nestled close up to her brother again. He kissed her affectionately, and led her toward the door. "There, good-night, now," he whispered, but she clung to him tightly, and he took her head between his hands and gazed down into her shrinking eyes. "What is it, little one?" he said; and she feebly struggled with him, so as to avert her face from his searching eyes, but she made no reply. "Why, Isabel, darling, what is it? You have something you wish to say to me?" "Yes, Neil," she whispered, "but I hardly like to tell it." "I thought you were always ready to tell me everything." "Yes, dear," she said quickly now, and she looked up full in his face. "Neil, do you know what dear papa wishes?" "I have a suspicion." "It was more than a suspicion with me, Neil. But, tell me, do you think now that he will want me to listen to that dreadful Sir Cheltnam?" "Let's wait and see, dear," said Neil quickly. "We must not meet troubles half way. This is no time to think of such a matter as that." "No; I felt that, dear, but I think so much about it that it would keep coming up." "Leave it now, and we will talk about it another time," said Neil gently. "You can always come to me, Isabel, and I will try to be worthy of your confidence." "Yes, I know that, Neil," she said quickly; and after kissing him once more she hurried out of the room, leaving her brother to his thoughts and the long watch through the night. And as he seated himself near the bed, where he could gaze at the stern, deeply lined countenance upon the pillow, his memory went back to early days, when he and his brother felt something akin to dread whenever their father spoke. And from that starting point he went on through boyhood up to manhood, right up to the present, when, after shaping the lives of his children as far as had been possible, his father seemed determined to carry out his plans for the future. A slight movement on the part of the patient made Elthorne rise from his seat, take the shaded lamp and go close to the bedside, but his father slept heavily, and he returned to his seat to continue unravelling the thread of his career.