Читать книгу Nurse Elisia - Fenn George Manville - Страница 3

“Morning, Elthorne. Had breakfast?”

“No,” said Alison, as he patted the neck of Sir Cheltnam’s horse, just reined up in front of the house. “No one down yet but the gov’nor and Isabel.”

“Isabel?” said the baronet eagerly. “Where is she?”

“Garden, I think. No, no. Don’t go after her. You’ll only scare her away. If you want that to come off, you must be careful. There, walk your horse round and come in to breakfast.”

“Had it.”

“Then come and have another. We shan’t start for our ride these two hours.”

“Oh, hang it! Mr Elthorne said he wanted me to see him put his horse through his paces. He’s not quite satisfied with his deal.”

“Yes, and ride alongside of Isabel.”

“Humph – perhaps.”

“And look here, young man, if you don’t wish to develop a row you had better be a little more attentive.”

“I should be attentive enough, but your sister seems to prefer the attentions of the parson’s boy.”

“What, Beck? Oh, he’s nobody. Besides, he’ll be off to sea directly, and you’ll be married and have a family before he comes back. That is, if – ”

“If? What do you mean?”

“The governor has not thrown you over, and Neil has not knocked your head off.”

“Propound, O, Sphinx. Read me the riddle.”

“I mean that if the governor sees you so attentive to Saxa, he’ll cry off, and if Neil notices it he will pitch into you. I should if I saw you hanging after Dana as you do after her sister.”

“Rubbish, man! A few civil words to a lady who rides well.”

“Sort of civil words the dad does not understand in his quiet, old-fashioned way. I suppose it is to be Isabel, is it not?”

“Of course; that is understood.”

“Very well, then, behave yourself, and don’t let Neil see anything, for he is as hot and peppery as – ”

“You are.”

“If you like. He’s down, you know.”

“Who is? Your brother?”

“Yes. Came down by the mail, and got in here by three this morning, I suppose. I have not seen him yet.”

“Well, I like that,” said Sir Cheltnam.

“Like what?”

“Your lecturing me about being inattentive to your sister. Here’s the blue-jacket again.”

“What nonsense! He has always been like one of us. We were schoolboys together, and he has come here, as Neil and I used to go to the vicarage, just as if it was our own home.”

“Oh, all right. I should not have said a word but for the wigging I had.”

“Good-morning,” cried the young lieutenant, walking his horse up to where they stood. “Neil down yet?”

“No,” replied Alison. “Yes, he is. That’s being a doctor. I believe these fellows can do without sleep. You knew he had come, then?”

“Yes; heard it from the postman. Ah, Neil, old fellow!”

The young doctor came up looking rather pale, but in no wise like one who had been travelling all night, and shook hands warmly with all, supplementing the grasp of his hand with a clap on the young sailor’s shoulder of a very warm and friendly nature.

“You are here early, Burwood,” he said.

“Yes. Mr Elthorne planned one of his rides yesterday; weather’s so fine. On the make-your-hay-while-the-sun-shines principle. He wants me to try his new horse for him.”

Five minutes later the young men had paired off and were strolling down the garden, waiting for the breakfast bell, which was always rung as soon as the head of the family came down.

“I’m so glad you’ve come down, Neil,” said Beck eagerly.

“Why?”

“I wanted a chat with you before I sail. I did think of coming to the hospital, but I don’t believe I could have said what I wanted there.”

Neil fixed his eyes upon his companion.

“What is it?” he said. “You don’t want to borrow money?”

“Oh, hang it, no!”

“What is it, then?”

The young man was silent, and began to break the twigs of the shrubs they were passing.

“Don’t do that, boy, unless you want to make my father wroth.”

“No, of course not,” said Beck. “How absurd!”

“Well, what’s the matter? You’re just off to sea, I believe.”

“Yes. Long voyage,” said the young man huskily. “Go on; I’m all attention.”

Tom Beck did not go on, but stood examining his right hand, and frowning.

“What’s the matter with your hand?”

“Oh, nothing. Miss Lydon’s horse gave it a nip the other day.”

“Humph! Vicious brute. Those girls are more like rough riders than ladies.”

Beck looked at him curiously, while the young doctor flushed under the scrutiny, and said hastily:

“Well, boy, what is it? Isabel?”

“Yes,” cried Beck, snatching at the words. “You see I may be gone for two years, and I wanted – and I thought that – ”

“Thought what? Is she very hard to please?”

“Heaven bless her! no,” cried the young sailor eagerly. “There, I can speak to you, Neil. You have always been to me like a big brother. And you know that I care for her.”

“Well, I suppose I have thought so, my lad. What’s the matter?”

“That’s the matter,” said the sailor, giving his head a side nod in the direction of Sir Cheltnam, who was crossing the lawn.

“Humph! Burwood? You think so?”

“He comes here a good deal, and I can’t help being fidgety. It’s the going away, you see. Can you help me?”

“No,” said Neil. “You must help yourself. Have you spoken to my father?”

“No.”

“Why not? ‘Faint heart never won fair lady,’ boy. Go and speak to him like a man.”

“All very well for an argumentative, scientific fellow like you. I can’t talk; you can.”

“Nonsense!”

“I know. I’m only a quiet, thoughtful sailor, and I tell you frankly, old fellow, I felt so miserable one day about your sister that I thought the best way out of it all would be to go and drown myself.”

“And did you?”

“No, Irishman, I did not; but, ’pon my word, seeing how Burwood is encouraged here, I have been really disposed, not to drown myself, but my sorrows – in drink.”

“And did you?” said Neil, mockingly.

“No,” replied Beck dryly. “It was no good to try; they all know how to swim.”

“Humph!” ejaculated Neil laughing. “You’re a queer fellow, Beck. So you think you love my sister?”

“Neil, old fellow, I swear – ”

“No rhapsodies, please. Be matter of fact. I don’t believe it’s love; it’s liver. Better let me prescribe for you.”

“Yes, do, old chap. Tell me what to do.”

“Go straight to my father and tell him in a frank, manly way that you care for Isabel, and as you are going away for so long, you would like to be engaged.”

“Neil, old fellow, I feel as if I dare not.”

“Nonsense! You, a sailor, who faces storms?”

“Yes, but your father’s a regular typhoon. I say, though, wouldn’t it be premature?”

“Of course not.”

“You would go – really?”

“If I cared for the lady, certainly,” said Neil, laughing at the combination of frank, manly daring and shrinking bashfulness before him. “It is not capital punishment if you fail.”

“No,” said Beck thoughtfully, “it isn’t. I’ve no cause to be afraid, have I?”

“Not a bit.”

“Then hang it all, I will the first moment I can get your father alone.”

“Bravo, brave man!” cried Neil merrily.

“Ah, it’s all very well for you to laugh, old fellow. You don’t know how bad it is. But I say, Neil, you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“My dear Tom,” said Neil, clapping him warmly on the shoulder, “it seems to me something like sacrilege for a man to come here to the old home, and to want to rob us of my darling, innocent little sister; but if it is to be I do not know a man to whom I would sooner see her given than you.”

“Thank you,” cried the young sailor warmly, and his voice sounding a little husky from the emotion he felt. “Thank you, Neil, old fellow, you seem more than ever like a big brother to me now.”

“Here is my father,” said Neil, quickly. “Wait your opportunity, and get it over.”

For at that instant Mr Elthorne appeared at the door, looking the beau-idéal of a tall, middle-aged country gentleman, with many years of hearty, vigorous life before him.

“Morning, Beck,” he cried. “Ah, Neil, my boy, glad to see you down already. Why, you ought to have had a few hours’ more rest.”

“I’m accustomed to short and broken nights,” said the young man, warmly returning the grasp of his father’s hand. “How well you look, sir!”

“Sorry I can’t return the compliment, my boy. You look, white and careworn. Never mind; we’ll soon blow the London smoke out of you. Can you manage a ride after breakfast?”

“Yes, and enjoy it.”

“That’s right. The Lydon girls are coming over, and we’ll mount you on the old cob. By the way, I thought I heard Burwood’s voice.”

“He is down the garden with Alison,” said Neil.

“That’s right. I asked him to come over to breakfast. He is going to try my new purchase for me. But it’s of no use to talk horseflesh to you. Well, my dear?”

This to Isabel, who came running out, looking very innocent and girlish.

“Good-morning, papa,” she cried, kissing him. “I did not know you were down. Good-morning, Mr Beck,” she continued shyly, as she let her hand rest in his for a moment, and then turned to her brother to kiss him affectionately. “I’m so glad you’ve come, dear Neil.”

“Let’s have breakfast, Isabel. Aunt’s not down, I suppose?”

“Oh, yes, papa, and waiting for us.”

“Wonderful!” said Mr Elthorne grimly. “Run down the garden, Isabel, and fetch Alison and Sir Cheltnam in to breakfast. Will you have a cup of coffee, Beck?” he continued rather coldly.

“Thank you, sir, I have breakfasted, but – ”

“Oh, he can manage another,” said Neil laughingly. “Come along, Tom;” and then to himself: “Poor boy! It will be no, for certain.”

Mr Elthorne took no further notice of the young sailor, but laid his hand upon his son’s shoulder and pointed to a clump of trees at the farther end of the park.

“I’m going to have those down, Neil.”

“Pity, isn’t it, sir?”

“No; if it were I should not take them away. They shut off the view in that direction. And I’m going to make an opening out there,” he continued, pointing due south. “All improvements for your benefit, sir.”

“Say for Alison’s, father. I shall never settle down here.”

“Humph! No?” said Mr Elthorne, glancing sidewise at his son. “If you go on like this you’ll be an old man before I am. I must have a talk to Saxa about you.”

Neil looked round sharply.

“Well, what is it?” said Mr Elthorne.

“Nothing, sir, nothing.”

“You looked as if I had said something shocking. Look here, Neil, my boy, as you are down at last, suppose you try if you cannot make up a little for lost time. You know what I mean.”

“Hush! Beck will hear you,” said the young surgeon quickly.

“Let him stand a little farther off, then,” said Mr Elthorne peevishly; “but,” he continued, in a lower tone of voice, “Saxa feels hurt; I know she does. She tries to carry it off by being boisterous and merry, but she is piqued by your coldness.”

“You still foster that idea, then, sir?”

“Foster? That idea? Of course, sir; and I should like to see you display a little more warmth respecting the carrying out of your father’s wishes. There, I’m not going to scold now you have come down; but just keep my last letter in mind. A bright, pretty young wife with two thousand a year and more to come later on, is not to be sneered at, my boy, and you must not quite bury yourself in London over your hospital work.”

He turned sharply.

“Really, Beck,” he cried, “I’m afraid I have behaved very rudely to you.”

“Very, sir,” thought the young man. “Don’t mention it, sir,” he said aloud.

“Let’s see: you are coming with us this morning?”

“I think you asked me to come, Mr Elthorne,” said Beck quietly.

“To be sure – of course – I am very forgetful. Come in – come in. Oh, by the way, would you mind telling your father that I cannot accede to his request. I think I have done quite enough for those people, and they must now shift for themselves. One wants to be charitable, but even charity has its limits. Come, you folks, breakfast, breakfast,” he cried cheerily, as Sir Cheltnam and Alison came up with Isabel.

“Poor Beck is right,” thought Neil, as he saw his father’s particularly cordial greeting of the baronet. “It is time to speak. But too late, I fear, after all.”

“Ah, Neil, my dear,” cried Aunt Anne, kissing him affectionately. “I’m so glad to see you home again. I hope you slept comfortably. And how is poor Maria?”

“Getting well fast, Aunt, dear.”

“That’s right. I’m so glad, for I do want her back very badly.”

“Breakfast! – something solid, and less talk,” shouted Mr Elthorne loudly, and the meal progressed, the head of the house leading the conversation, and always to one topic – his new horse.