He wanted her always to sit there. But his mind wandered from what
she was saying after a little, and returned to his father.
'Is father there?' he asked, trying to turn his head, and failing.
'Not yet.'
'Poor father! Elizabeth!' he spoke the name with a boyish shyness.
'Yes!' She stooped over him.
'You won't go away?'
Elizabeth hesitated a moment, and he looked distressed.
'From Mannering, I mean. Do stay, Broomie!'--the name slipped out,
and in his weakness he did not notice it--'Pamela knows--that she
was horrid!'
'Dear Desmond, I will do everything I can for Pamela.'
'And for father?'
'Yes, indeed--I will be all the help I can,' repeated Elizabeth.
Desmond relapsed into silence and apparent sleep. But Elizabeth's
heart smote her. She felt she had not satisfied him.
* * * * *
But before long by the mere natural force of her personality, she
seemed to be the leading spirit in the sick-room. Only she could
lead or influence the Squire, whose state of sullen despair
terrified the household.
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