Emily's first act--after the discovery of Mrs. Ellmother'sincomprehensible disappearance--was to invite the new servant tofollow her into the sitting-room.

"Can you explain this?" she began.

"No, miss."

"May I ask if you have come here by Mrs. Ellmother's invitation?"

"By Mrs. Ellmother's _request_, miss."

"Can you tell me how she came to make the request?"

"With pleasure, miss. Perhaps--as you find me here, a stranger toyourself, in place of the customary servant--I ought to begin bygiving you a reference."

"And, perhaps (if you will be so kind), by mentioning your name,"Emily added.

"Thank you for reminding me, miss. My name is Elizabeth Mosey. Iam well known to the gentleman who attends Miss Letitia. Dr.Allday will speak to my character and also to my experience as anurse. If it would be in any way satisfactory to give you asecond reference--"

"Quite needless, Mrs. Mosey."

"Permit me to thank you again, miss. I was at home this evening,when Mrs. Ellmother called at my lodgings. Says she, 'I have comehere, Elizabeth, to ask a favor of you for old friendship'ssake.' Says I, 'My dear, pray command me, whatever it may be.' Ifthis seems rather a hasty answer to make, before I knew what thefavor was, might I ask you to bear in mind that Mrs. Ellmotherput it to me 'for old friendship's sake'--alluding to my latehusband, and to the business which we carried on at that time?Through no fault of ours, we got into difficulties. Persons whomwe had trusted proved unworthy. Not to trouble you further, I maysay at once, we should have been ruined, if our old friend Mrs.Ellmother had not come forward, and trusted us with the savingsof her lifetime. The money was all paid back again, before myhusband's death. But I don't consider--and, I think you won'tconsider--that the obligation was paid back too. Prudent or notprudent, there is nothing Mrs. Ellmother can ask of me that I amnot willing to do. If I have put myself in an awkward situation(and I don't deny that it looks so) this is the only excuse,miss, that I can make for my conduct."

Mrs. Mosey was too fluent, and too fond of hearing the sound ofher own eminently persuasive voice. Making allowance for theselittle drawbacks, the impression that she produced was decidedlyfavorable; and, however rashly she might have acted, her motivewas beyond reproach. Having said some kind words to this effect,Emily led her back to the main interest of her narrative.

"Did Mrs. Ellmother give no reason for leaving my aunt, at such atime as this?" she asked.

"The very words I said to her, miss."

"And what did she say, by way of reply?"

"She burst out crying--a thing I have never known her to dobefore, in an experience of twenty years."

"And she really asked you to take her place here, at a moment'snotice?"

"That was just what she did," Mrs. Mosey answered. "I had no needto tell her I was astonished; my lips spoke for me, no doubt.She's a hard woman in speech and manner, I admit. But there'smore feeling in her than you would suppose. 'If you are the goodfriend I take you for,' she says, 'don't ask me for reasons; I amdoing what is forced on me, and doing it with a heavy heart.' Inmy place, miss, would you have insisted on her explainingherself, after that? The one thing I naturally wanted to knowwas, if I could speak to some lady, in the position of mistresshere, before I ventured to intrude. Mrs. Ellmother understoodthat it was her duty to help me in this particular. Your pooraunt being out of the question she mentioned you."

"How did she speak of me? In an angry way?"

"No, indeed--quite the contrary. She says, 'You will find MissEmily at the cottage. She is Miss Letitia's niece. Everybodylikes her--and everybody is right.'"

"She really said that?"

"Those were her words. And, what is more, she gave me a messagefor you at parting. 'If Miss Emily is surprised' (that was howshe put it) 'give her my duty and good wishes; and tell her toremember what I said, when she took my place at her aunt'sbedside.' I don't presume to inquire what this means," said Mrs.Mosey respectfully, ready to hear what it meant, if Emily wouldonly be so good as to tell her. "I deliver the message, miss, asit was delivered to me. After which, Mrs. Ellmother went her way,and I went mine."

"Do you know where she wen t?"

"No, miss."

"Have you nothing more to tell me?"

"Nothing more; except that she gave me my directions, of course,about the nursing. I took them down in writing--and you will findthem in their proper place, with the prescriptions and themedicines."

Acting at once on this hint, Emily led the way to her aunt'sroom.

Miss Letitia was silent, when the new nurse softly parted thecurtains--looked in--and drew them together again. Consulting herwatch, Mrs. Mosey compared her written directions with themedicine-bottles on the table, and set one apart to be used atthe appointed time. "Nothing, so far, to alarm us," shewhispered. "You look sadly pale and tired, miss. Might I adviseyou to rest a little?"

"If there is any change, Mrs. Mosey--either for the better or theworse--of course you will let me know?"

"Certainly, miss."

Emily returned to the sitting-room: not to rest (after all thatshe had heard), but to think.

Amid much that was unintelligible, certain plain conclusionspresented themselves to her mind.

After what the doctor had already said to Emily, on the subjectof delirium generally, Mrs. Ellmother's proceedings becameintelligible: they proved that she knew by experience theperilous course taken by her mistress's wandering thoughts, whenthey expressed themselves in words. This explained theconcealment of Miss Letitia's illness from her niece, as well asthe reiterated efforts of the old servant to prevent Emily fromentering the bedroom.

But the event which had just happened--that is to say, Mrs.Ellmother's sudden departure from the cottage--was not only ofserious importance in itself, but pointed to a startlingconclusion.

The faithful maid had left the mistress, whom she had loved andserved, sinking under a fatal illness--and had put another womanin her place, careless of what that woman might discover bylistening at the bedside--rather than confront Emily after shehad been within hearing of her aunt while the brain of thesuffering woman was deranged by fever. There was the state of thecase, in plain words.

In what frame of mind had Mrs. Ellmother adopted this desperatecourse of action?

To use her own expression, she had deserted Miss Letitia "with aheavy heart." To judge by her own language addressed to Mrs.Mosey, she had left Emily to the mercy of a stranger--animated,nevertheless, by sincere feelings of attachment and respect. Thather fears had taken for granted suspicion which Emily had notfelt, and discoveries which Emily had (as yet) not made, in noway modified the serious nature of the inference which herconduct justified. The disclosure which this woman dreaded--whocould doubt it now?--directly threatened Emily's peace of mind.There was no disguising it: the innocent niece was associatedwith an act of deception, which had been, until that day, theundetected secret of the aunt and the aunt's maid.

In this conclusion, and in this only, was to be found therational explanation of Mrs. Ellmother's choice--placed betweenthe alternatives of submitting to discovery by Emily, or ofleaving the house.

Poor Miss Letitia's writing-table stood near the window of thesitting-room. Shrinking from the further pursuit of thoughtswhich might end in disposing her mind to distrust of her dyingaunt, Emily looked round in search of some employmentsufficiently interesting to absorb her attention. Thewriting-table reminded her that she owed a letter to Cecilia.That helpful friend had surely the first claim to know why shehad failed to keep her engagement with Sir Jervis Redwood.

After mentioning the telegram which had followed Mrs. Rook'sarrival at the school, Emily's letter proceeded in these terms:

"As soon as I had in some degree recovered myself, I informedMrs. Rook of my aunt's serious illness.

"Although she carefully confined herself to commonplaceexpressions of sympathy, I could see that it was equally a reliefto both of us to feel that we were prevented from being travelingcompanions. Don't suppose that I have taken a capricious disliketo Mrs. Rook--or that you are in any way to blame for theunfavorable impression which she has produced on me. I will makethis plain when we meet. In the meanwhile, I need only tell youthat I gave her a letter of explanation to present to Sir JervisRedwood. I also informed him of my address in London: adding arequest that he would forward your letter, in case you havewritten to me before you receive these lines.

"Kind Mr. Alban Morris accompanied me to the railway-station, andarranged with the guard to take special care of me on the journeyto London. We used to think him rather a heartless man. We werequite wrong. I don't know what his plans are for spending thesummer holidays. Go where he may, I remember his kindness; mybest wishes go with him.

"My dear, I must not sadden your enjoyment of your pleasant visitto the Engadine, by writing at any length of the sorrow that I amsuffering. You know how I love my aunt, and how gratefully I havealways felt her motherly goodness to me. The doctor does notconceal the truth. At her age, there is no hope: my father'slast-left relation, my one dearest friend, is dying.

"No! I must not forget that I have another friend--I must findsome comfort in thinking of _you_.

"I do so long in my solitude for a letter from my dear Cecilia.Nobody comes to see me, when I most want sympathy; I am astranger in this vast city. The members of my mother's family aresettled in Australia: they have not even written to me, in allthe long years that have passed since her death. You remember howcheerfully I used to look forward to my new life, on leavingschool? Good-by, my darling. While I can see your sweet face, inmy thoughts, I don't despair--dark as it looks now--of the futurethat is before me."

Emily had closed and addressed her letter, and was just risingfrom her chair, when she heard the voice of the new nurse at thedoor.