Emily entered the room. The door was immediately closed on herfrom the outer side. Mrs. Ellmother's heavy steps were heardretreating along the passage. Then the banging of the door thatled into the kitchen shook the flimsily-built cottage. Then,there was silence.

The dim light of a lamp hidden away in a corner and screened by adingy green shade, just revealed the closely-curtained bed, andthe table near it bearing medicine-bottles and glasses. The onlyobjects on the chimney-piece were a clock that had been stoppedin mercy to the sufferer's irritable nerves, and an open casecontaining a machine for pouring drops into the eyes. The smellof fumigating pastilles hung heavily on the air. To Emily'sexcited imagination, the silence was like the silence of death.She approached the bed trembling. "Won't you speak to me, aunt?"

"Is that you, Emily? Who let you come in?"

"You said I might come in, dear. Are you thirsty? I see somelemonade on the table. Shall I give it to you?"

"No! If you open the bed-curtains, you let in the light. My pooreyes! 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 sherepeated those words. "You were going somewhere when you leftschool," she said, "and Cecilia Wyvil had something to do withit. Oh, my love, how cruel of you to go away to a stranger, whenyou might live here with me!" She paused--her sense of what shehad herself just said began to grow confused. "What stranger?"she asked abruptly. "Was it a man? What name? Oh, my mind! Hasdeath 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 hemeans to send for you. Perhaps he _has_ sent for you. I won'tallow it! You shan't go!"

"Don't excite yourself, dear! I have refused to go; I mean tostay here with you."

The fevered brain held to its last idea. "_Has_ he sent for you?"she said again, louder than before.

Emily replied once more, in terms carefully chosen with the onepurpose of pacifying her. The attempt proved to be useless, andworse--it seemed to make her suspicious. "I won't be deceived!"she said; "I mean to know all about it. He did send for you. Whomdid he send?"

"His housekeeper."

"What name?" The tone in which she put the question told ofexcitement that was rising to its climax. "Don't you know thatI'm curious about names?" 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 anunexpected result. Silence ensued.

Emily waited--hesitated--advanced, to part the curtains, and lookin at her aunt. She was stopped by a dreadful sound oflaughter--the cheerless laughter that is heard among the mad. Itsuddenly ended in a dreary sigh.

Afraid to look in, she spoke, hardly knowing what she said. "Isthere anything you wish for? Shall I call--?"

Miss Letitia's voice interrupted her. Dull, low, rapidlymuttering, it was unlike, shockingly unlike, the familiar voiceof her aunt. It said strange words.

"Mrs. Rook? What does Mrs. Rook matter? Or her husband either?Bony, Bony, you're frightened about nothing. Where's the dangerof those two people turning up? Do you know how many miles awaythe village is? Oh, you fool--a hundred miles and more. Nevermind the coroner, the coroner must keep in his own district--andthe jury too. A risky deception? I call it a pious fraud. And Ihave a tender conscience, and a cultivated mind. The newspaper?How is _our_ newspaper to find its way to her, I should like toknow? You poor old Bony! Upon my word you do me good--you make melaugh."

The cheerless laughter broke out again--and died away againdrearily in a sigh.

Accustomed to decide rapidly in the ordinary emergencies of herlife, Emily felt herself painfully embarrassed by the position inwhich she was now placed.

After what she had already heard, could she reconcile it to hersense of duty to her aunt to remain any longer in the room?

In the hopeless self-betrayal of delirium, Miss Letitia hadrevealed some act of concealment, committed in her past life, andconfided to her faithful old servant. Under these circumstances,had Emily made any discoveries which convicted her of taking abase advantage of her position at the bedside? Most assuredlynot! The nature of the act of concealment; the causes that hadled to it; the person (or persons) affected by it--these weremysteries which left her entirely in the dark. She had found outthat her aunt was acquainted with Mrs. Rook, and that wasliterally all she knew.

Blameless, so far, in the line of conduct that she had pursued,might she still remain in the bed-chamber--on this distinctunderstanding with herself: that she would instantly return tothe sitting-room if she heard anything which could suggest adoubt of Miss Letitia's claim to her affection and respect? Aftersome hesitation, she decided on leaving it to her conscience toanswer that question. Does conscience ever say, No--wheninclination says, Yes? Emily's conscience sided with herreluctance to leave her aunt.

Throughout the time occupied by these reflections, the silencehad remained unbroken. Emily began to feel uneasy. She timidlyput her hand through the curtains, and took Miss Letitia's hand.The contact with the burning skin startled her. She turned awayto the door, to call the servant--when the sound of her aunt'svoice hurried her back to the bed.

"Are you there, Bony?" the voice asked.

Was her mind getting clear again? Emily tried the experiment ofmaking a plain reply. "Your niece is with you," she said. "ShallI call the servant?"

Miss Letitia's mind was still far away from Emily, and from thepresent time.

"The servant?" she repeated. "All the servants but you, Bony,have been sent away. London's the place for us. No gossipingservants and no curious neighbors in London. Bury the horridtruth in London. Ah, you may well say I look anxious andwretched. I hate deception--and yet, it must be done. Why do youwaste time in talking? Why don't you find out where the vilewoman lives? Only let me get at her--and I'll make Sara ashamedof herself."

Emily's heart beat fast when she heard the woman's name. "Sara"(as she and her school-fellows knew) was the baptismal name ofMiss Jethro. Had her aunt alluded to the disgraced teacher, or tosome other woman?

She waited eagerly to hear more. There was nothing to be heard.At this most interesting moment, the silence remainedundisturbed.

In the fervor of her anxiety to set her doubts at rest, Emily'sfaith in her own good resolutions began to waver. The temptationto say somethin g which might set her aunt talking again was toostrong to be resisted--if she remained at the bedside. Despairingof herself she rose and turned to the door. In the moment thatpassed while she crossed the room the very words occurred to herthat would suit her purpose. Her cheeks were hot with shame--shehesitated--she looked back at the bed--the words passed her lips.

"Sara is only one of the woman's names," she said. "Do you likeher other name?"

The rapidly-muttering tones broke out again instantly--but not inanswer to Emily. The sound of a voice had encouraged Miss Letitiato pursue her own confused train of thought, and had stimulatedthe fast-failing capacity of speech to exert itself once more.

"No! no! He's too cunning for you, and too cunning for me. Hedoesn't leave letters about; he destroys them all. Did I say hewas too cunning for us? It's false. We are too cunning for him.Who found the morsels of his letter in the basket? Who stuck themtogether? Ah, _we_ know! Don't read it, Bony. 'Dear MissJethro'--don't read it again. 'Miss Jethro' in his letter; and'Sara,' when he talks to himself in the garden. Oh, who wouldhave 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 wayof summoning Mrs. Ellmother would be to ring the bell. As shetouched the handle a faint cry of suffering from the bed calledher back.

"Oh, so thirsty!" murmured the failing voice--so thirsty!"

She parted the curtains. The shrouded lamplight just showed herthe green shade over Miss Letitia s eyes--the hollow cheeks belowit--the arms laid helplessly on the bed-clothes. "Oh, aunt, don'tyou know my voice? Don't you know Emily? Let me kiss you, dear!"Useless to plead with her; useless to kiss her; she onlyreiterated the words, "So thirsty! so thirsty!" Emily raised thepoor tortured body with a patient caution which spared it pain,and put the glass to her aunt's lips. She drank the lemonade tothe last drop. Refreshed for the moment, she spoke again--spoketo the visionary servant of her delirious fancy, while she restedin 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 vilewoman! the vile woman!"

Her voice, sinking gradually, dropped to a whisper. The next fewwords that escaped her were muttered inarticulately. Little bylittle, the false energy of fever was wearing itself out. She laysilent and still. To look at her now was to look at the image ofdeath. Once more, Emily kissed her--closed the curtains--and rangthe bell. Mrs. Ellmother failed to appear. Emily left the room tocall her.

Arrived at the top of the kitchen stairs, she noted a slightchange. The door below, which she had heard banged on firstentering her aunt's room, now stood open. She called to Mrs.Ellmother. A strange voice answered her. Its accent was soft andcourteous; presenting the strongest imaginable contrast to theharsh tones of Miss Letitia's crabbed 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 atthe young lady with a pleasant smile.

"I beg your pardon," Emily said; "I had no intention ofdisturbing 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."