"Is there nothing else you can suggest?" Emily asked.

"Nothing--at present."

"If my aunt fails us, have we no other hope?"

"I have hope in Mrs. Rook," Alban answered. "I see I surpriseyou; but I really mean what I say. Sir Jervis's housekeeper is anexcitable woman, and she is fond of wine. There is always a weakside in the character of such a person as that. If we wait forour chance, and turn it to the right use when it comes, we mayyet succeed in making her betray herself."

Emily listened to him in bewilderment.

"You talk as if I was sure of your help in the future," she said."Have you forgotten that I leave school to-day, never to return?In half an hour more, I shall be condemned to a long journey inthe company of that horrible creature--with a life to lookforward to, in the same house with her, among strangers! Amiserable prospect, and a hard trial of a girl's courage--is itnot, Mr. Morris?"

"You will at least have one person, Miss Emily, who will try withall his heart and soul to encourage you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Alban, quietly, "that the Midsummer vacationbegins to-day; and that the drawing-master is going to spend hisholidays in the North."

Emily jumped up from her chair. "You!" she exclaimed. "_You_ aregoing to Northumberland? With me?"

"Why not?" Alban asked. "The railway is open to all travelersalike, if they have money enough to buy a ticket."

"Mr. Morris! what _can_ you be thinking of? Indeed, indeed, I amnot ungrateful. I know you mean kindly--you are a good, generousman. But do remember how completely a girl, in my position, is atthe mercy of appearances. You, traveling in the same carriagewith me! and that woman putting her own vile interpretation onit, and degrading me in Sir Jervis Redwood's estimation, on theday when I enter his house! Oh, it's worse than thoughtless--it'smadness, downright madness."

"You are quite right," Alban gravely agreed, "it _is_ madness. Ilost whatever little reason I once possessed, Miss Emily, on theday when I first met you out walking with the young ladies of theschool."

Emily turned away in significant silence. Alban followed her.

"You promised just now," he said, "never to think unjustly of meagain. I respect and admire you far too sincerely to take a baseadvantage of this occasion--the only occasion on which I havebeen permitted to speak with you alone. Wait a little before youcondemn a man whom you don't understand. I will say nothing toannoy you--I only ask leave to explain myself. Will you take yourchair again?"

She returned unwillingly to her seat. "It can only end," shethought, sadly, "in my disappointing him!"

"I have had the worst possible opinion of women for years past,"Alban resumed; "and the only reason I can give for it condemns meout of my own mouth. I have been infamously treated by one woman;and my wounded self-esteem has meanly revenged itself by revilingthe whole sex. Wait a little, Miss Emily. My fault has receivedits fit punishment. I have been thoroughly humiliated--and _you_have done it."

"Mr. Morris!"

"Take no offense, pray, where no offense is meant. Some few yearssince it was the great misfortune of my life to meet with a Jilt.You know what I mean?"

"Yes."

"She was my equal by birth (I am a younger son of a countrysquire), and my superior in rank. I can honestly tell you that Iwas fool enough to love her with all my heart and soul. She neverallowed me to doubt--I may say this without conceit, rememberingthe miserable end of it--that my feeling for her was returned.Her father and mother (excellent people) approved of thecontemplated marriage. She accepted my presents; she allowed allthe customary preparations for a wedding to proceed tocompletion; she had not even mercy en ough, or shame enough, toprevent me from publicly degrading myself by waiting for her atthe altar, in the presence of a large congregation. The minutespassed--and no bride appeared. The clergyman, waiting like me,was requested to return to the vestry. I was invited to followhim. You foresee the end of the story, of course? She had runaway with another man. But can you guess who the man was? Hergroom!"

Emily's face reddened with indignation. "She suffered for it? Oh,Mr. Morris, surely she suffered for it?"

"Not at all. She had money enough to reward the groom formarrying her; and she let herself down easily to her husband'slevel. It was a suitable marriage in every respect. When I lastheard of them, they were regularly in the habit of getting drunktogether. I am afraid I have disgusted you? We will drop thesubject, and resume my precious autobiography at a later date.One showery day in the autumn of last year, you young ladies wentout with Miss Ladd for a walk. When you were all trotting backagain, under your umbrellas, did you (in particular) notice anill-tempered fellow standing in the road, and getting a good lookat you, on the high footpath above him?"

Emily smiled, in spite of herself. "I don't remember it," shesaid.

"You wore a brown jacket which fitted you as if you had been bornin it--and you had the smartest little straw hat I ever saw on awoman's head. It was the first time I ever noticed such things. Ithink I could paint a portrait of the boots you wore (mudincluded), from memory alone. That was the impression youproduced on me. After believing, honestly believing, that lovewas one of the lost illusions of my life--after feeling, honestlyfeeling, that I would as soon look at the devil as look at awoman--there was the state of mind to which retribution hadreduced me; using for his instrument Miss Emily Brown. Oh, don'tbe afraid of what I may say next! In your presence, and out ofyour presence, I am man enough to be ashamed of my own folly. Iam resisting your influence over me at this moment, with thestrongest of all resolutions--the resolution of despair. Let'slook at the humorous side of the story again. What do you think Idid when the regiment of young ladies had passed by me?"

Emily declined to guess.

"I followed you back to the school; and, on pretense of having adaughter to educate, I got one of Miss Ladd's prospectuses fromthe porter at the lodge gate. I was in your neighborhood, youmust know, on a sketching tour. I went back to my inn, andseriously considered what had happened to me. The result of mycogitations was that I went abroad. Only for a change--not at allbecause I was trying to weaken the impression you had produced onme! After a while I returned to England. Only because I was tiredof traveling--not at all because your influence drew me back!Another interval passed; and luck turned my way, for a wonder.The drawing-master's place became vacant here. Miss Laddadvertised; I produced my testimonials; and took the situation.Only because the salary was a welcome certainty to a poorman--not at all because the new position brought me into personalassociation with Miss Emily Brown! Do you begin to see why I havetroubled you with all this talk about myself? Apply thecontemptible system of self-delusion which my confession hasrevealed, to that holiday arrangement for a tour in the northwhich has astonished and annoyed you. I am going to travel thisafternoon by your train. Only because I feel an intelligentlonging to see the northernmost county of England--not at allbecause I won't let you trust yourself alone with Mrs. Rook! Notat all because I won't leave you to enter Sir Jervis Redwood'sservice without a friend within reach in case you want him! Mad?Oh, yes--perfectly mad. But, tell me this: What do all sensiblepeople do when they find themselves in the company of a lunatic?They humor him. Let me take your ticket and see your luggagelabeled: I only ask leave to be your traveling servant. If youare proud--I shall like you all the better, if you are--pay mewages, and keep me in my proper place in that way.

Some girls, addressed with this reckless intermingling of jestand earnest, would have felt confused, and some would have feltflattered. With a good-tempered resolution, which never passedthe limits of modesty and refinement, Emily met Alban Morris onhis own ground.

"You have said you respect me," she began; "I am going to provethat I believe you. The least I can do is not to misinterpretyou, on my side. Am I to understand, Mr. Morris--you won't thinkthe worse of me, I hope, if I speak plainly--am I to understandthat you are in love with me?"

"Yes, Miss Emily--if you please."

He had answered with the quaint gravity which was peculiar tohim; but he was already conscious of a sense of discouragement.Her composure was a bad sign--from his point of view.

"My time will come, I daresay," she proceeded. "At present I knownothing of love, by experience; I only know what some of myschoolfellows talk about in secret. Judging by what they tell me,a girl blushes when her lover pleads with her to favor hisaddresses. Am I blushing?"

"Must I speak plainly, too?" Alban asked.

"If you have no objection," she answered, as composedly as if shehad been addressing her grandfather.

"Then, Miss Emily, I must say--you are not blushing."

She went on. "Another token of love--as I am informed--is totremble. Am I trembling?"

"No."

"Am I too confused to look at you?"

"No."

"Do I walk away with dignity--and then stop, and steal a timidglance at my lover, over my shoulder?"

"I wish you did!"

"A plain answer, Mr. Morris! Yes or No."

"No--of course."

"In one last word, do I give you any sort of encouragement to tryagain?"

"In one last word, I have made a fool of myself--and you havetaken the kindest possible way of telling me so."

This time, she made no attempt to reply in his own tone. Thegood-humored gayety of her manner disappeared. She was inearnest--truly, sadly in earnest--when she said her next words.

"Is it not best, in your own interests, that we should bid eachother good-by?" she asked. "In the time to come--when you onlyremember how kind you once were to me--we may look forward tomeeting again. After all that you have suffered, so bitterly andso undeservedly, don't, pray don't, make me feel that anotherwoman has behaved cruelly to you, and that I--so grieved todistress you--am that heartless creature!"

Never in her life had she been so irresistibly charming as shewas at that moment. Her sweet nature showed all its innocent pityfor him in her face.

He saw it--he felt it--he was not unworthy of it. In silence, helifted her hand to his lips. He turned pale as he kissed it.

"Say that you agree with me?" she pleaded.

"I obey you."

As he answered, he pointed to the lawn at their feet. "Look," hesaid, "at that dead leaf which the air is wafting over the grass.Is it possible that such sympathy as you feel for Me, such loveas I feel for You, can waste, wither, and fall to the ground likethat leaf? I leave you, Emily--with the firm conviction thatthere is a time of fulfillment to come in our two lives. Happenwhat may in the interval--I trust the future."

The words had barely passed his lips when the voice of one of theservants reached them from the house. "Miss Emily, are you in thegarden?"

Emily stepped out into the sunshine. The servant hurried to meether, and placed a telegram in her hand. She looked at it with asudden misgiving. In her small experience, a telegram wasassociated with the communication of bad news. She conquered herhesitation--opened it--read it. The color left her face: sheshuddered. The telegram dropped on the grass.

"Read it," she said, faintly, as Alban picked it up.

He read these words: "Come to London directly. Miss Letitia isdangerously ill."

"Your aunt?" he asked.

"Yes--my aunt."