He paused, gazing back along the passage to where he could see the dim reflection of the lamp in the hall, and as he stood there, the faintly heard voice of Nurse Elisia came once more to his ear. He drew a long, deep breath, and then, half aloud: "I had not calculated on this," he thought. "I fled from the temptation, and it has followed me here. And she--she has never given me a second thought." He turned the handle quickly, and entered the room. "Ah, that is right, Neil," said Aunt Anne. "Will you stay here while I take nurse to have some supper? She says she is not too tired to sit up to-night." "Absurd!" said Neil, in a low, harsh voice. "After this long journey? Nurse, you will go with Mrs Barnett, and have some refreshment; then get to bed, and come and relieve me about seven." "But, my dear Neil, you, too, want rest," said Aunt Anne. "Aunt, be good enough not to interfere," replied Neil shortly. "Nurse Elisia, you heard my orders." "Yes, sir." "Oh, very well, my dear," said Aunt Anne, in an ill-used tone. "I suppose you know best. This way, nurse." Neil stood watching them as they left the room, and turned back toward the bed with a sigh of relief. "I have not lost my strength of mind, then, after all," he muttered, as he drew himself up. "I will master it." There was a faint glow in his pale cheeks as he spoke, but it died out at once, leaving him haggard-looking and careworn, and his face grew set and his eyes dark as he stood gazing straight before him, seeing neither the bed nor the wall beyond, but the scene upon the stairs of the pale, white face lit up by the caudle, while, a short distance below, stood Alison, gazing up from the darkness. Neil shuddered, closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again they fell upon the sleeping figure before him. And as he looked down it was not with the eyes of man of science but of the son, thinking of his father's plans. They had been children, and he had planned their education according to an eccentric whim of his own; youths, and he had principally chosen their career; they had reached manhood, and he had settled who were to be the companions of their lives. And as he thought, the faces of Saxa Lydon and her sister, followed by Sir Cheltnam Burwood, floated out of the mental mist, and complication after complication arose. It was a dreary vigil, for Neil Elthorne was half worn out from broken nights and a long period of great anxiety, which had culminated in the arrival of the nurse; but not once through that long night did he feel the desire to sleep, and he could hardly realise the fact that it was morning, but stared and looked at her wildly when the door opened, and light shone in that was that of the morning sun, throwing up the pale, calm face of Nurse Elisia, who entered as if she were perfectly used to the place, and bearing for his special use a small tray, upon which were dry toast and tea.