CHAPTER XIII. MISS LETITIA.
Emily entered the room. The door was immediately closed on her from theouter side. Mrs. Ellmother's heavy steps were heard retreating along thepassage. Then the banging of the door that led into the kitchen shookthe flimsily-built cottage. Then, there was silence.
The dim light of a lamp hidden away in a corner and screened by a dingygreen shade, just revealed the closely-curtained bed, and the tablenear it bearing medicine-bottles and glasses. The only objects onthe chimney-piece were a clock that had been stopped in mercy to thesufferer's irritable nerves, and an open case containing a machine forpouring drops into the eyes. The smell of fumigating pastilles hungheavily on the air. To Emily's excited imagination, the silence was likethe silence of death. She approached the bed trembling. "Won't you speakto me, aunt?"
"Is that you, Emily? Who let you come in?"
"You said I might come in, dear. Are you thirsty? I see some lemonade onthe table. Shall I give it to you?"
"No! If you open the bed-curtains, you let in the light. My poor eyes!Why are you here, my dear? Why are you not at the school?"
"It's holiday-time, aunt. Besides, I have left school for good."
"Left school?" Miss Letitia's memory made an effort, as she repeatedthose words. "You were going somewhere when you left school," she said,"and Cecilia Wyvil had something to do with it. Oh, my love, how cruelof you to go away to a stranger, when you might live here with me!"She paused--her sense of what she had herself just said began to growconfused. "What stranger?" she asked abruptly. "Was it a man? What name?Oh, my mind! Has death got hold of my mind before my body?"
"Hush! hush! I'll tell you the name. Sir Jervis Redwood."
"I don't know him. I don't want to know him. Do you think he meansto send for you. Perhaps he _has_ sent for you. I won't allow it! Youshan't go!"
"Don't excite yourself, dear! I have refused to go; I mean to stay herewith you."
The fevered brain held to its last idea. "_Has_ he sent for you?" shesaid again, louder than before.
Emily replied once more, in terms carefully chosen with the one purposeof pacifying her. The attempt proved to be useless, and worse--it seemedto make her suspicious. "I won't be deceived!" she said; "I mean to knowall about it. He did send for you. Whom did he send?"
"His housekeeper."
"What name?" The tone in which she put the question told of excitementthat was rising to its climax. "Don't you know that I'm curious aboutnames?" she burst out. "Why do you provoke me? Who is it?"
"Nobody you know, or need care about, dear aunt. Mrs. Rook."
Instantly on the utterance of that name, there followed an unexpectedresult. Silence ensued.
Emily waited--hesitated--advanced, to part the curtains, and look in ather aunt. She was stopped by a dreadful sound of laughter--the cheerlesslaughter that is heard among the mad. It suddenly ended in a drearysigh.
Afraid to look in, she spoke, hardly knowing what she said. "Is thereanything you wish for? Shall I call--?"
Miss Letitia's voice interrupted her. Dull, low, rapidly muttering, itwas unlike, shockingly unlike, the familiar voice of her aunt. It saidstrange words.
"Mrs. Rook? What does Mrs. Rook matter? Or her husband either? Bony,Bony, you're frightened about nothing. Where's the danger of those twopeople turning up? Do you know how many miles away the village is? Oh,you fool--a hundred miles and more. Never mind the coroner, the coronermust keep in his own district--and the jury too. A risky deception? Icall it a pious fraud. And I have a tender conscience, and a cultivatedmind. The newspaper? How is _our_ newspaper to find its way to her, Ishould like to know? You poor old Bony! Upon my word you do me good--youmake me laugh."
The cheerless laughter broke out again--and died away again drearily ina sigh.
Accustomed to decide rapidly in the ordinary emergencies of her life,Emily felt herself painfully embarrassed by the position in which shewas now placed.
After what she had already heard, could she reconcile it to her sense ofduty to her aunt to remain any longer in the room?
In the hopeless self-betrayal of delirium, Miss Letitia had revealedsome act of concealment, committed in her past life, and confided toher faithful old servant. Under these circumstances, had Emily madeany discoveries which convicted her of taking a base advantage of herposition at the bedside? Most assuredly not! The nature of the act ofconcealment; the causes that had led to it; the person (or persons)affected by it--these were mysteries which left her entirely in thedark. She had found out that her aunt was acquainted with Mrs. Rook, andthat was literally all she knew.
Blameless, so far, in the line of conduct that she had pursued, mightshe still remain in the bed-chamber--on this distinct understandingwith herself: that she would instantly return to the sitting-room if sheheard anything which could suggest a doubt of Miss Letitia's claim toher affection and respect? After some hesitation, she decided on leavingit to her conscience to answer that question. Does conscience eversay, No--when inclination says, Yes? Emily's conscience sided with herreluctance to leave her aunt.
Throughout the time occupied by these reflections, the silence hadremained unbroken. Emily began to feel uneasy. She timidly put her handthrough the curtains, and took Miss Letitia's hand. The contact withthe burning skin startled her. She turned away to the door, to call theservant--when the sound of her aunt's voice hurried her back to the bed.
"Are you there, Bony?" the voice asked.
Was her mind getting clear again? Emily tried the experiment of makinga plain reply. "Your niece is with you," she said. "Shall I call theservant?"
Miss Letitia's mind was still far away from Emily, and from the presenttime.
"The servant?" she repeated. "All the servants but you, Bony, havebeen sent away. London's the place for us. No gossiping servants and nocurious neighbors in London. Bury the horrid truth in London. Ah, youmay well say I look anxious and wretched. I hate deception--and yet, itmust be done. Why do you waste time in talking? Why don't you find outwhere the vile woman lives? Only let me get at her--and I'll make Saraashamed of herself."
Emily's heart beat fast when she heard the woman's name. "Sara" (as sheand her school-fellows knew) was the baptismal name of Miss Jethro. Hadher aunt alluded to the disgraced teacher, or to some other woman?
She waited eagerly to hear more. There was nothing to be heard. At thismost interesting moment, the silence remained undisturbed.
In the fervor of her anxiety to set her doubts at rest, Emily's faith inher own good resolutions began to waver. The temptation to saysomething which might set her aunt talking again was too strong to beresisted--if she remained at the bedside. Despairing of herself she roseand turned to the door. In the moment that passed while she crossed theroom the very words occurred to her that would suit her purpose. Hercheeks were hot with shame--she hesitated--she looked back at thebed--the words passed her lips.
"Sara is only one of the woman's names," she said. "Do you like herother name?"
The rapidly-muttering tones broke out again instantly--but not in answerto Emily. The sound of a voice had encouraged Miss Letitia to pursueher own confused train of thought, and had stimulated the fast-failingcapacity of speech to exert itself once more.
"No! no! He's too cunning for you, and too cunning for me. He doesn'tleave letters about; he destroys them all. Did I say he was too cunningfor us? It's false. We are too cunning for him. Who found the morsels ofhis letter in the basket? Who stuck them together? Ah, _we_ know! Don'tread it, Bony. 'Dear Miss Jethro'--don't read it again. 'Miss Jethro' inhis letter; and 'Sara,' when he talks to himself in the garden. Oh,who would have believed it of him, if we hadn't seen and heard itourselves!"
There was no more doubt now.
But who was the man, so bitterly and so regretfully alluded to?
No: this time Emily held firmly by the resolution which bound herto respect the helpless position of her aunt. The speediest way ofsummoning Mrs. Ellmother would be to ring the bell. As she tou
ched thehandle a faint cry of suffering from the bed called her back.
"Oh, so thirsty!" murmured the failing voice--"so thirsty!"
She parted the curtains. The shrouded lamplight just showed her thegreen shade over Miss Letitia's eyes--the hollow cheeks below it--thearms laid helplessly on the bed-clothes. "Oh, aunt, don't you know myvoice? Don't you know Emily? Let me kiss you, dear!" Useless to pleadwith her; useless to kiss her; she only reiterated the words, "Sothirsty! so thirsty!" Emily raised the poor tortured body with a patientcaution which spared it pain, and put the glass to her aunt's lips. Shedrank the lemonade to the last drop. Refreshed for the moment, she spokeagain--spoke to the visionary servant of her delirious fancy, while sherested in Emily's arms.
"For God's sake, take care how you answer if she questions you. If _she_knew what _we_ know! Are men ever ashamed? Ha! the vile woman! the vilewoman!"
Her voice, sinking gradually, dropped to a whisper. The next few wordsthat escaped her were muttered inarticulately. Little by little, thefalse energy of fever was wearing itself out. She lay silent and still.To look at her now was to look at the image of death. Once more, Emilykissed her--closed the curtains--and rang the bell. Mrs. Ellmotherfailed to appear. Emily left the room to call her.
Arrived at the top of the kitchen stairs, she noted a slight change.The door below, which she had heard banged on first entering her aunt'sroom, now stood open. She called to Mrs. Ellmother. A strange voiceanswered her. Its accent was soft and courteous; presenting thestrongest imaginable contrast to the harsh tones of Miss Letitia'scrabbed old maid.
"Is there anything I can do for you, miss?"
The person making this polite inquiry appeared at the foot of thestairs--a plump and comely woman of middle age. She looked up at theyoung lady with a pleasant smile.
"I beg your pardon," Emily said; "I had no intention of disturbing you.I called to Mrs. Ellmother."
The stranger advanced a little way up the stairs, and answered, "Mrs.Ellmother is not here."
"Do you expect her back soon?"
"Excuse me, miss--I don't expect her back at all."
"Do you mean to say that she has left the house?"
"Yes, miss. She has left the house."