CHAPTER XXVI. MOTHER EVE.
The servant received Emily, on her return from the library, with a slysmile. "Here he is again, miss, waiting to see you."
She opened the parlor door, and revealed Alban Morris, as restless asever, walking up and down the room.
"When I missed you at the Museum, I was afraid you might be ill," hesaid. "Ought I to have gone away, when my anxiety was relieved? Shall Igo away now?"
"You must take a chair, Mr. Morris, and hear what I have to say formyself. When you left me after your last visit, I suppose I felt theforce of example. At any rate I, like you, had my suspicions. I havebeen trying to confirm them--and I have failed."
He paused, with the chair in his hand. "Suspicions of Me?" he asked.
"Certainly! Can you guess how I have been employed for the last twodays? No--not even your ingenuity can do that. I have been hard at work,in another reading-room, consulting the same back numbers of the samenewspaper, which you have been examining at the British Museum. There ismy confession--and now we will have some tea."
She moved to the fireplace, to ring the bell, and failed to see theeffect produced on Alban by those lightly-uttered words. The commonphrase is the only phrase that can describe it. He was thunderstruck.
"Yes," she resumed, "I have read the report of the inquest. If I knownothing else, I know that the murder at Zeeland can't be the discoverywhich you are bent on keeping from me. Don't be alarmed for thepreservation of your secret! I am too much discouraged to try again."
The servant interrupted them by answering the bell; Alban once moreescaped detection. Emily gave her orders with an approach to the oldgayety of her school days. "Tea, as soon as possible--and let us havethe new cake. Are you too much of a man, Mr. Morris, to like cake?"
In this state of agitation, he was unreasonably irritated by thatplayful question. "There is one thing I like better than cake," he said;"and that one thing is a plain explanation."
His tone puzzled her. "Have I said anything to offend you?" she asked."Surely you can make allowance for a girl's curiosity? Oh, you shallhave your explanation--and, what is more, you shall have it withoutreserve!"
She was as good as her word. What she had thought, and what she hadplanned, when he left her after his last visit, was frankly and fullytold. "If you wonder how I discovered the library," she went on, "I mustrefer you to my aunt's lawyer. He lives in the City--and I wrote to himto help me. I don't consider that my time has been wasted. Mr. Morris,we owe an apology to Mrs. Rook."
Alban's astonishment, when he heard this, forced its way to expressionin words. "What can you possibly mean?" he asked.
The tea was brought in before Emily could reply. She filled the cups,and sighed as she looked at the cake. "If Cecilia was here, how shewould enjoy it!" With that complimentary tribute to her friend, shehanded a slice to Alban. He never even noticed it.
"We have both of us behaved most unkindly to Mrs. Rook," she resumed. "Ican excuse your not seeing it; for I should not have seen it either, butfor the newspaper. While I was reading, I had an opportunity of thinkingover what we said and did, when the poor woman's behavior so needlesslyoffended us. I was too excited to think, at the time--and, besides, Ihad been upset, only the night before, by what Miss Jethro said to me."
Alban started. "What has Miss Jethro to do with it?" he asked.
"Nothing at all," Emily answered. "She spoke to me of her own privateaffairs. A long story--and you wouldn't be interested in it. Let mefinish what I had to say. Mrs. Rook was naturally reminded of themurder, when she heard that my name was Brown; and she must certainlyhave been struck--as I was--by the coincidence of my father's deathtaking place at the same time when his unfortunate namesake was killed.Doesn't this sufficiently account for her agitation when she looked atthe locket? We first took her by surprise: and then we suspected her ofHeaven knows what, because the poor creature didn't happen to have herwits about her, and to remember at the right moment what a very commonname 'James Brown' is. Don't you see it as I do?"
"I see that you have arrived at a remarkable change of opinion, since wespoke of the subject in the garden at school."
"In my place, you would have changed your opinion too. I shall write toMrs. Rook by tomorrow's post."
Alban heard her with dismay. "Pray be guided by my advice!" he saidearnestly. "Pray don't write that letter!"
"Why not?"
It was too late to recall the words which he had rashly allowed toescape him. How could he reply?
To own that he had not only read what Emily had read, but had carefullycopied the whole narrative and considered it at his leisure, appearedto be simply impossible after what he had now heard. Her peace ofmind depended absolutely on his discretion. In this serious emergency,silence was a mercy, and silence was a lie. If he remained silent, mightthe mercy be trusted to atone for the lie? He was too fond of Emilyto decide that question fairly, on its own merits. In other words, heshrank from the terrible responsibility of telling her the truth.
"Isn't the imprudence of writing to such a person as Mrs. Rook plainenough to speak for itself?" he suggested cautiously.
"Not to me."
She made that reply rather obstinately. Alban seemed (in her view) to betrying to prevent her from atoning for an act of injustice. Besides,he despised her cake. "I want to know why you object," she said; takingback the neglected slice, and eating it herself.
"I object," Alban answered, "because Mrs. Rook is a coarse presumingwoman. She may pervert your letter to some use of her own, which you mayhave reason to regret."
"Is that all?"
"Isn't it enough?"
"It may be enough for _you_. When I have done a person an injury, andwish to make an apology, I don't think it necessary to inquire whetherthe person's manners happen to be vulgar or not."
Alban's patience was still equal to any demands that she could make onit. "I can only offer you advice which is honestly intended for your owngood," he gently replied.
"You would have more influence over me, Mr. Morris, if you were a littlereadier to take me into your confidence. I daresay I am wrong--but Idon't like following advice which is given to me in the dark."
It was impossible to offend him. "Very naturally," he said; "I don'tblame you."
Her color deepened, and her voice rose. Alban's patient adherence to hisown view--so courteously and considerately urged--was beginning to tryher temper. "In plain words," she rejoined, "I am to believe that youcan't be mistaken in your judgment of another person."
There was a ring at the door of the cottage while she was speaking. Butshe was too warmly interested in confuting Alban to notice it.
He was quite willing to be confuted. Even when she lost her temper,she was still interesting to him. "I don't expect you to think meinfallible," he said. "Perhaps you will remember that I have had someexperience. I am unfortunately older than you are."
"Oh if wisdom comes with age," she smartly reminded him, "your friendMiss Redwood is old enough to be your mother--and she suspected Mrs.Rook of murder, because the poor woman looked at a door, and dislikedbeing in the next room to a fidgety old maid."
Alban's manner changed: he shrank from that chance allusion to doubtsand fears which he dare not acknowledge. "Let us talk of somethingelse," he said.
She looked at him with a saucy smile. "Have I driven you into a cornerat last? And is _that_ your way of getting out of it?"
Even his endurance failed. "Are you trying to provoke me?" he asked."Are you no better than other women? I wouldn't have believed it of you,Emily."
"Emily?" She repeated the name in a tone of surprise, which remindedhim that he had addressed her with familiarity at a most inappropriatetime--the time when they were on the point of a quarrel. He felt theimplied reproach too keenly to be able to answer her with composure.
"I think of Emily--I love Emily--my one hope is that Emily may love me.Oh, my dear, is there no excuse if I forget to call you 'Miss' when youdistress me?"
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nbsp; All that was tender and true in her nature secretly took his part. Shewould have followed that better impulse, if he had only been calm enoughto understand her momentary silence, and to give her time. But thetemper of a gentle and generous man, once roused, is slow to subside.Alban abruptly left his chair. "I had better go!" he said.
"As you please," she answered. "Whether you go, Mr. Morris, or whetheryou stay, I shall write to Mrs. Rook."
The ring at the bell was followed by the appearance of a visitor. DoctorAllday opened the door, just in time to hear Emily's last words. Hervehemence seemed to amuse him.
"Who is Mrs. Rook?" he asked.
"A most respectable person," Emily answered indignantly; "housekeeper toSir Jervis Redwood. You needn't sneer at her, Doctor Allday! She has notalways been in service--she was landlady of the inn at Zeeland."
The doctor, about to put his hat on a chair, paused. The inn at Zeelandreminded him of the Handbill, and of the visit of Miss Jethro.
"Why are you so hot over it?" he inquired
"Because I detest prejudice!" With this assertion of liberal feeling shepointed to Alban, standing quietly apart at the further end of the room."There is the most prejudiced man living--he hates Mrs. Rook. Would youlike to be introduced to him? You're a philosopher; you may do him somegood. Doctor Allday--Mr. Alban Morris."
The doctor recognized the man, with the felt hat and the objectionablebeard, whose personal appearance had not impressed him favorably.
Although they may hesitate to acknowledge it, there are respectableEnglishmen still left, who regard a felt hat and a beard as symbols ofrepublican disaffection to the altar and the throne. Doctor Allday'smanner might have expressed this curious form of patriotic feeling, butfor the associations which Emily had revived. In his present frame ofmind, he was outwardly courteous, because he was inwardly suspicious.Mrs. Rook had been described to him as formerly landlady of the inn atZeeland. Were there reasons for Mr. Morris's hostile feeling toward thiswoman which might be referable to the crime committed in her house thatmight threaten Emily's tranquillity if they were made known? It wouldnot be amiss to see a little more of Mr. Morris, on the first convenientoccasion.
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, sir."
"You are very kind, Doctor Allday."
The exchange of polite conventionalities having been accomplished, Albanapproached Emily to take his leave, with mingled feelings of regret andanxiety--regret for having allowed himself to speak harshly; anxiety topart with her in kindness.
"Will you forgive me for differing from you?" It was all he couldventure 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 subjecthad 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 theMuseum, to-morrow?" he asked.
She was politely indifferent to the last. "Yes--unless something happensto keep me at home."
The doctor's eyebrows still expressed disapproval. For what object wasthe 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 toEmily in a hurry.
"I bring you news, my dear, which will surprise you. Who do you thinkhas just left my house? Mrs. Ellmother! Don't interrupt me. She hasmade up her mind to go out to service again. Tired of leading anidle life--that's her own account of it--and asks me to act as herreference."
"Did you consent?"
"Consent! If I act as her reference, I shall be asked how she cameto leave her last place. A nice dilemma! Either I must own that shedeserted her mistress on her deathbed--or tell a lie. When I put it toher in that way, she walked out of the house in dead silence. If sheapplies to you next, receive her as I did--or decline to see her, whichwould be better still."
"Why am I to decline to see her?"
"In consequence of her behavior to your aunt, to be sure! No: I havesaid all I wanted to say--and I have no time to spare for answering idlequestions. Good-by."
Socially-speaking, doctors try the patience of their nearest and dearestfriends, in this respect--they are almost always in a hurry. DoctorAllday's precipitate departure did not tend to soothe Emily's irritatednerves. She began to find excuses for Mrs. Ellmother in a spirit of purecontradiction. The old servant's behavior might admit of justification:a friendly welcome might persuade her to explain herself. "If sheapplies 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 toafter-reflection in solitude, failed to justify themselves. Her bettersense began to reproach her. She tried to silence that unwelcome monitorby 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 tocall _him_ by his Christian name, she might have done it. How noble helooked, when he got up to go away; he was actually handsome! Women maysay what they please and write what they please: their natural instinctis to find their master in a man--especially when they like him. Sinkinglower and lower in her own estimation, Emily tried to turn the currentof 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--ifhe had said, "My dear, I want to see you like yourself again; will yougive me a kiss, and make it up"--would he have left her crying, when hewent away? She was crying now.