"My dear father," began Neil, taking his hand. "Be silent sir," cried the old man fiercely, "and let me speak." "Then, my dear patient," said Neil, "I must insist upon your listening to me calmly and patiently;" but Mr Elthorne paid no heed and went on. "I'm not going to blame you, boy, I suppose you have done your best, everything that you have been taught." Elisia glanced at Neil in spite of herself, and it was a commiserating look, but a feeling of elation ran through her as she saw his calm, patient, pitying look as she quitted the room. "Indeed I have done everything possible, father," he said quietly. "Yes, yes; all you knew, boy; all you knew." "And I have been able to do more perhaps than a surgeon who visited you would have achieved, through always being on the spot." "But your knowledge is limited, of course, boy." "Yes, I am afraid so," replied Neil sadly. "I'm not blaming you. Very patient with me, my boy. So has she been. Nurse!" he called. "Nurse!" He turned his head a little so as to look over the back of the couch, for he had not seen that they were alone; and then, as he strained his neck a little to fix his eyes upon the door which communicated with the dressing room, it was painful to see the state of utter helplessness to which the strong man had been reduced. He could move his hands and arms, but the complete want of power elsewhere was so apparent to himself now that he uttered a groan of despair, and looked back imploringly at his son. "What had I done?" he muttered. "What had I done?" "My dear father," whispered Neil; but the old man turned from him again impatiently. "Nurse," he cried, "nurse!" and he beat, with a stick that was ready to his hand, impatiently upon the floor. "I will go for her," said Neil eagerly; but there was no need. Nurse Elisia had faithfully devoted herself to the service of her patient; his call had been heard, and she came in quickly and silently, to glide toward the couch, her eyes the while scanning the sufferer questioningly, as if asking what had occurred to cause the summons. "There is nothing wrong, nurse," Neil felt moved to say, as he saw the questioning look. "What?" cried Mr Elthorne, turning his eyes fiercely upon his son. "There is, nurse, and that is why I summoned you. Look here, Neil; my body may be half dead, but my head is clear. I am not imbecile yet, and I will not be treated like a child. It is hard, very hard, that even one's own son sinks his relationship in the professional man, and forgets that he is dealing with his father, who has become to him only a patient." "My dear father!" cried Neil, smiling, "are you not a little hard on me?" "No, no!" cried the old man irritably. "You are deceiving me, for my good as you call it, and as you owned a little while back."