Mrs. Rook had been described to him as formerly landlady of the inn at Zeeland. Were there reasons for Mr. Morris's hostile feeling toward this woman which might be referable to the crime committed in her house that might threaten Emily's tranquillity if they were made known? It would not be amiss to see a little more of Mr. Morris, on the first convenient occasion.
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, sir."
"You are very kind, Doctor Allday."
The exchange of polite conventionalities having been accomplished, Alban approache d Emily to take his leave, with mingled feelings of regret and anxiety--regret for having allowed himself to speak harshly; anxiety to part with her in kindness.
"Will you forgive me for differing from you?" It was all he could venture to say, in the presence of a stranger.
"Oh, yes!" she said quietly.
"Will you think again, before you decide?"
"Certainly, Mr. Morris. But it won't alter my opinion, if I do."
The doctor, hearing what passed between them, frowned. On what subject had they been differing? And what opinion did Emily decline to alter?
Alban gave it up. He took her hand gently. "Shall I see you at the Museum, to-morrow?" he asked.
She was politely indifferent to the last. "Yes--unless something happens to keep me at home."
The doctor's eyebrows still expressed disapproval. For what object was the meeting proposed? And why at a museum?
"Good-afternoon, Doctor Allday."
"Good-afternoon, sir."
For a moment after Alban's departure, the doctor stood irresolute. Arriving suddenly at a decision, he snatched up his hat, and turned to Emily in a hurry.
"I bring you news, my dear, which will surprise you. Who do you think has just left my house? Mrs. Ellmother! Don't interrupt me. She has made up her mind to go out to service again. Tired of leading an idle life--that's her own account of it--and asks me to act as her reference."
"Did you consent?"
"Consent! If I act as her reference, I shall be asked how she came to leave her last place. A nice dilemma! Either I must own that she deserted her mistress on her deathbed--or tell a lie. When I put it to her in that way, she walked out of the house in dead silence. If she applies to you next, receive her as I did--or decline to see her, which would be better still."
"Why am I to decline to see her?"
"In consequence of her behavior to your aunt, to be sure! No: I have said all I wanted to say--and I have no time to spare for answering idle questions. Good-by."
Socially-speaking, doctors try the patience of their nearest and dearest friends, in this respect--they are almost always in a hurry. Doctor Allday's precipitate departure did not tend to soothe Emily's irritated nerves. She began to find excuses for Mrs. Ellmother in a spirit of pure contradiction. The old servant's behavior might admit of justification: a friendly welcome might persuade her to explain herself. "If she applies to me," Emily determined, "I shall certainly receive her."
Having arrived at this resolution, her mind reverted to Alban.
Some of the sharp things she had said to him, subjected to after-reflection in solitude, failed to justify themselves. Her better sense began to reproach her. She tried to silence that unwelcome monitor by laying the blame on Alban. Why had he been so patient and so good? What harm was there in his calling her "Emily"? If he had told her to call him by his Christian name, she might have done it. How noble he looked, when he got up to go away; he was actually handsome! Women may say what they please and write what they please: their natural instinct is to find their master in a man--especially when they like him. Sinking lower and lower in her own estimation, Emily tried to turn the current of her thoughts in another direction. She took up a book--opened it, looked into it, threw it across the room.
If Alban had returned at that moment, resolved on a reconciliation--if he had said, "My dear, I want to see you like yourself again; will you give me a kiss, and make it up"--would he have left her crying, when he went away? She was crying now.
CHAPTER XXVII.
MENTOR AND TELEMACHUS.
If Emily's eyes could have followed Alban as her thoughts were following him, she would have seen him stop before he reached the end of the road in which the cottage stood. His heart was full of tenderness and sorrow: the longing to return to her was more than he could resist. It would be easy to wait, within view of the gate, until the doctor's visit came to an end. He had just decided to go back and keep watch--when he heard rapid footsteps approaching. There (devil take him!) was the doctor himself.
"I have something to say to you, Mr. Morris. Which way are you walking?"
"Any way," Alban answered--not very graciously.
"Then let us take the turning that leads to my house. It's not customary for strangers, especially when they happen to be Englishmen, to place confidence in each other. Let me set the example of violating that rule. I want to speak to you about Miss Emily. May I take your arm? Thank you. At my age, girls in general--unless they are my patients--are not objects of interest to me. But that girl at the cottage--I daresay I am in my dotage--I tell you, sir, she has bewitched me! Upon my soul, I could hardly be more anxious about her, if I was her father. And, mind, I am not an affectionate man by nature. Are you anxious about her too?"
"Yes."
"In what way?"
"In what way are you anxious, Doctor Allday?"
The doctor smiled grimly.
"You don't trust me? Well, I have promised to set the example. Keep your mask on, sir--mine is off, come what may of it. But, observe: if you repeat what I am going to say--"
Alban would hear no more. "Whatever you may say, Doctor Allday, is trusted to my honor. If you doubt my honor, be so good as to let go my arm--I am not walking your way."
The doctor's hand tightened its grasp. "That little flourish of temper, my dear sir, is all I want to set me at my ease. I feel I have got hold of the right man. Now answer me this. Have you ever heard of a person named Miss Jethro?"
Alban suddenly came to a standstill.
"All right!" said the doctor. "I couldn't have wished for a more satisfactory reply."
"Wait a minute," Alban interposed. "I know Miss Jethro as a teacher at Miss Ladd's school, who left her situation suddenly--and I know no more."
The doctor's peculiar smile made its appearance again.
"Speaking in the vulgar tone," he said, "you seem to be in a hurry to wash your hands of Miss Jethro."
"I have no reason to feel any interest in her," Alban replied.
"Don't be too sure of that, my friend. I have something to tell you which may alter your opinion. That ex-teacher at the school, sir, knows how the late Mr. Brown met his death, and how his daughter has been deceived about it."
Alban listened with surprise--and with some little doubt, which he thought it wise not to acknowledge.
"The report of the inquest alludes to a 'relative' who claimed the body," he said.