CHAPTER XL. CONSULTING.
Out of the music room, and away from his violin, the sound side of Mr.Wyvil's character was free to assert itself. In his public and in hisprivate capacity, he was an eminently sensible man.
As a member of parliament, he set an example which might have beenfollowed with advantage by many of his colleagues. In the first place heabstained from hastening the downfall of representative institutions byasking questions and making speeches. In the second place, he was ableto distinguish between the duty that he owed to his party, and theduty that he owed to his country. When the Legislature actedpolitically--that is to say, when it dealt with foreign complications,or electoral reforms--he followed his leader. When the Legislature actedsocially--that is to say, for the good of the people--he followed hisconscience. On the last occasion when the great Russian bugbear provokeda division, he voted submissively with his Conservative allies. But,when the question of opening museums and picture galleries on Sundaysarrayed the two parties in hostile camps, he broke into open mutiny,and went over to the Liberals. He consented to help in preventingan extension of the franchise; but he refused to be concerned inobstructing the repeal of taxes on knowledge. "I am doubtful in thefirst case," he said, "but I am sure in the second." He was asked for anexplanation: "Doubtful of what? and sure of what?" To the astonishmentof his leader, he answered: "The benefit to the people." The samesound sense appeared in the transactions of his private life. Lazy anddishonest servants found that the gentlest of masters had a side to hischaracter which took them by surprise. And, on certain occasions inthe experience of Cecilia and her sister, the most indulgent of fathersproved to be as capable of saying No, as the sternest tyrant who everruled a fireside.
Called into council by his daughter and his guest, Mr. Wyvil assistedthem by advice which was equally wise and kind--but which afterwardproved, under the perverse influence of circumstances, to be advice thathe had better not have given.
The letter to Emily which Cecilia had recommended to her father'sconsideration, had come from Netherwoods, and had been written by AlbanMorris.
He assured Emily that he had only decided on writing to her, after somehesitation, in the hope of serving interests which he did nothimself understand, but which might prove to be interests worthy ofconsideration, nevertheless. Having stated his motive in these terms, heproceeded to relate what had passed between Miss Jethro and himself.On the subject of Francine, Alban only ventured to add that she had notproduced a favorable impression on him, and that he could not think herlikely, on further experience, to prove a desirable friend.
On the last leaf were added some lines, which Emily was at no loss howto answer. She had folded back the page, so that no eyes but her ownshould see how the poor drawing-master finished his letter: "I wishyou all possible happiness, my dear, among your new friends; but don'tforget the old friend who thinks of you, and dreams of you, and longs tosee you again. The little world I live in is a dreary world, Emily, inyour absence. Will you write to me now and then, and encourage me tohope?"
Mr. Wyvil smiled, as he looked at the folded page, which hid thesignature.
"I suppose I may take it for granted," he said slyly, "that thisgentleman really has your interests at heart? May I know who he is?"
Emily answered the last question readily enough. Mr. Wyvil went on withhis inquiries. "About the mysterious lady, with the strange name," heproceeded--"do you know anything of her?"
Emily related what she knew; without revealing the true reason for MissJethro's departure from Netherwoods. In after years, it was one of hermost treasured remembrances, that she had kept secret the melancholyconfession which had startled her, on the last night of her life atschool.
Mr. Wyvil looked at Alban's letter again. "Do you know how Miss Jethrobecame acquainted with Mr. Mirabel?" he asked.
"I didn't even know that they were acquainted."
"Do you think it likely--if Mr. Morris had been talking to you insteadof writing to you--that he might have said more than he has said in hisletter?"
Cecilia had hitherto remained a model of discretion. Seeing Emilyhesitate, temptation overcame her. "Not a doubt of it, papa!" shedeclared confidently.
"Is Cecilia right?" Mr. Wyvil inquired.
Reminded in this way of her influence over Alban, Emily could only makeone honest reply. She admitted that Cecilia was right.
Mr. Wyvil thereupon advised her not to express any opinion, until shewas in a better position to judge for herself. "When you write to Mr.Morris," he continued, "say that you will wait to tell him what youthink of Miss Jethro, until you see him again."
"I have no prospect at present of seeing him again," Emily said.
"You can see Mr. Morris whenever it suits him to come here," Mr. Wyvilreplied. "I will write and ask him to visit us, and you can inclose theinvitation in your letter."
"Oh, Mr. Wyvil, how good of you!"
"Oh, papa, the very thing I was going to ask you to do!"
The excellent master of Monksmoor looked unaffectedly surprised. "Whatare you two young ladies making a fuss about?" he said. "Mr. Morris isa gentleman by profession; and--may I venture to say it, Miss Emily?--avalued friend of yours as well. Who has a better claim to be one of myguests?"
Cecilia stopped her father as he was about to leave the room. "I supposewe mustn't ask Mr. Mirabel what he knows of Miss Jethro?" she said.
"My dear, what can you be thinking of? What right have we to questionMr. Mirabel about Miss Jethro?"
"It's so very unsatisfactory, papa. There must be some reason why Emilyand Mr. Mirabel ought not to meet--or why should Miss Jethro have beenso very earnest about it?"
"Miss Jethro doesn't intend us to know why, Cecilia. It will perhapscome out in time. Wait for time."
Left together, the girls discussed the course which Alban would probablytake, on receiving Mr. Wyvil's invitation.
"He will only be too glad," Cecilia asserted, "to have the opportunityof seeing you again."
"I doubt whether he will care about seeing me again, among strangers,"Emily replied. "And you forget that there are obstacles in his way. Howis he to leave his class?"
"Quite easily! His class doesn't meet on the Saturday half-holiday. Hecan be here, if he starts early, in time for luncheon; and he can staytill Monday or Tuesday."
"Who is to take his place at the school?"
"Miss Ladd, to be sure--if _you_ make a point of it. Write to her, aswell as to Mr. Morris."
The letters being written--and the order having been given to preparea room for the expected guest--Emily and Cecilia returned to thedrawing-room. They found the elders of the party variously engaged--themen with newspapers, and the ladies with work. Entering the conservatorynext, they discovered Cecilia's sister languishing among the flowers inan easy chair. Constitutional laziness, in some young ladies, assumes aninvalid character, and presents the interesting spectacle of perpetualconvalescence. The doctor declared that the baths at St. Moritz hadcured Miss Julia. Miss Julia declined to agree with the doctor.
"Come into the garden with Emily and me," Cecilia said.
"Emily and you don't know what it is to be ill," Julia answered.
The two girls left her, and joined the young people who were amusingthemselves in the garden. Francine had taken possession of Mirabel, andhad condemned him to hard labor in swinging her. He made an attemptto get away when Emily and Cecilia approached, and was peremptorilyrecalled to his duty. "Higher!" cried Miss de Sor, in her hardesttones of authority. "I want to swing higher than anybody else!" Mirabelsubmitted with gentleman-like resignation, and was rewarded by tenderencouragement expressed in a look.
"Do you see that?" Cecilia whispered. "He knows how rich she is--Iwonder whether he will marry her."
Emily smiled. "I doubt it, while he is in this house," she said."You are as rich as Francine--and don't forget that you have otherattractions as well."
Cecilia shook her head. "Mr. Mirabel is very nice," she admitted; "but Iwouldn'
t marry him. Would you?"
Emily secretly compared Alban with Mirabel. "Not for the world!" sheanswered.
The next day was the day of Mirabel's departure. His admirers among theladies followed him out to the door, at which Mr. Wyvil's carriage waswaiting. Francine threw a nosegay after the departing guest as he gotin. "Mind you come back to us on Monday!" she said. Mirabel bowed andthanked her; but his last look was for Emily, standing apart from theothers at the top of the steps. Francine said nothing; her lips closedconvulsively--she turned suddenly pale.