A fortnight after the disappearance of Mrs. Ellmother, and thedismissal of Mrs. Mosey, Doctor Allday entered hisconsulting-room, punctual to the hour at which he was accustomedto receive patients.

An occasional wrinkling of his eyebrows, accompanied by anintermittent restlessness in his movements, appeared to indicatesome disturbance of this worthy man's professional composure. Hismind was indeed not at ease. Even the inexcitable old doctor hadfelt the attraction which had already conquered three suchdissimilar people as Alban Morris, Cecilia Wyvil, and Francine deSor. He was thinking of Emily.

A ring at the door-bell announced the arrival of the firstpatient.

The servant introduced a tall lady, dressed simply and elegantlyin dark apparel. Noticeable features, of a Jewish cast--worn andhaggard, but still preserving their grandeur of form--werevisible through her veil. She moved with grace and dignity; andshe stated her object in consulting Doctor Allday with the easeof a well-bred woman.

"I come to ask your opinion, sir, on the state of my heart," shesaid; "and I am recommended by a patient, who has consulted youwith advantage to herself." She placed a card on the doctor'swriting-desk, and added: "I have become acquainted with the lady,by being one of the lodgers in her house."

The doctor recognized the name--and the usual proceedings ensued.After careful examination, he arrived at a favorable conclusion."I may tell you at once," he said--"there is no reason to bealarmed about the state of your heart."

"I have never felt any alarm about myself," she answered quietly."A sudden death is an easy death. If one's affairs are settled,it seems, on that account, to be the death to prefer. My objectwas to settle _my_ affairs--such as they are--if you hadconsidered my life to be in danger. "Is there nothing the matterwith me?"

"I don't say that," the doctor replied. "The action of your heartis very feeble. Take the medicine that I shall prescribe; pay alittle more attention to eating and drinking than ladies usuallydo; don't run upstairs, and don't fatigue yourself by violentexercise--and I see no reason wh y you shouldn't live to be anold woman."

"God forbid!" the lady said to herself. She turned away, andlooked out of the window with a bitter smile.

Doctor Allday wrote his prescription. "Are you likely to make along stay in London?" he asked.

"I am here for a little while only. Do you wish to see me again?"

"I should like to see you once more, before you go away--if youcan make it convenient. What name shall I put on theprescription?"

"Miss Jethro."

"A remarkable name," the doctor said, in his matter-of-fact way.

Miss Jethro's bitter smile showed itself again.

Without otherwise noticing what Doctor Allday had said, she laidthe consultation fee on the table. At the same moment, thefootman appeared with a letter. "From Miss Emily Brown," he said."No answer required."

He held the door open as he delivered the message, seeing thatMiss Jethro was about to leave the room. She dismissed him by agesture; and, returning to the table, pointed to the letter.

"Was your correspondent lately a pupil at Miss Ladd's school?"she inquired.

"My correspondent has just left Miss Ladd," the doctor answered."Are you a friend of hers?"

"I am acquainted with her."

"You would be doing the poor child a kindness, if you would goand see her. She has no friends in London."

"Pardon me--she has an aunt."

"Her aunt died a week since."

"Are there no other relations?"

"None. A melancholy state of things, isn't it? She would havebeen absolutely alone in the house, if I had not sent one of mywomen servants to stay with her for the present. Did you know herfather?"

Miss Jethro passed over the question, as if she had not heard it."Has the young lady dismissed her aunt's servants?" she asked.

"Her aunt kept but one servant, ma'am. The woman has spared MissEmily the trouble of dismissing her." He briefly alluded to Mrs.Ellmother's desertion of her mistress. "I can't explain it," hesaid when he had done. "Can _you_?"

"What makes you think, sir, that I can help you? I have nevereven heard of the servant--and the mistress was a stranger tome."

At Doctor Allday's age a man is not easily discouraged byreproof, even when it is administered by a handsome woman. "Ithought you might have known Miss Emily's father," he persisted.

Miss Jethro rose, and wished him good-morning. "I must not occupyany more of your valuable time," she said.

"Suppose you wait a minute?" the doctor suggested.

Impenetrable as ever, he rang the bell. "Any patients in thewaiting-room?" he inquired. "You see I have time to spare," heresumed, when the man had replied in the negative. "I take aninterest in this poor girl; and I thought--"

"If you think that I take an interest in her, too," Miss Jethrointerposed, "you are perfectly right--I knew her father," sheadded abruptly; the allusion to Emily having apparently remindedher of the question which she had hitherto declined to notice.

"In that case," Doctor Allday proceeded, "I want a word ofadvice. Won't you sit down?"

She took a chair in silence. An irregular movement in the lowerpart of her veil seemed to indicate that she was breathing withdifficulty. The doctor observed her with close attention. "Let mesee my prescription again," he said. Having added an ingredient,he handed it back with a word of explanation. "Your nerves aremore out of order than I supposed. The hardest disease to curethat I know of is--worry."

The hint could hardly have been plainer; but it was lost on MissJethro. Whatever her troubles might be, her medical adviser wasnot made acquainted with them. Quietly folding up theprescription, she reminded him that he had proposed to ask heradvice.

"In what way can I be of service to you?" she inquired.

"I am afraid I must try your patience," the doctor acknowledged,"if I am to answer that question plainly."

With these prefatory words, he described the events that hadfollowed Mrs. Mosey's appearance at the cottage. "I am only doingjustice to this foolish woman," he continued, "when I tell youthat she came here, after she had left Miss Emily, and did herbest to set matters right. I went to the poor girl directly--andI felt it my duty, after looking at her aunt, not to leave heralone for that night. When I got home the next morning, whom doyou think I found waiting for me? Mrs. Ellmother!"

He stopped--in the expectation that Miss Jethro would expresssome surprise. Not a word passed her lips.

"Mrs. Ellmother's object was to ask how her mistress was goingon," the doctor proceeded. "Every day while Miss Letitia stilllived, she came here to make the same inquiry--without a word ofexplanation. On the day of the funeral, there she was at thechurch, dressed in deep mourning; and, as I can personallytestify, crying bitterly. When the ceremony was over--can youbelieve it?--she slipped away before Miss Emily or I could speakto her. We have seen nothing more of her, and heard nothing more,from that time to this."

He stopped again, the silent lady still listening without makingany remark.

"Have you no opinion to express?" the doctor asked bluntly.

"I am waiting," Miss Jethro answered.

"Waiting--for what?"

"I haven't heard yet, why you want my advice."

Doctor Allday's observation of humanity had hitherto reckonedwant of caution among the deficient moral qualities in thenatures of women. He set down Miss Jethro as a remarkableexception to a general rule.

"I want you to advise me as to the right course to take with MissEmily," he said. "She has assured me she attaches no seriousimportance to her aunt's wanderings, when the poor old lady'sfever was at its worst. I don't doubt that she speaks thetruth--but I have my own reasons for being afraid that she isdeceiving herself. Will you bear this in mind?"

"Yes--if it's necessary."

"In plain words, Miss Jethro, you think I am still wandering fromthe point. I have got to the point. Yesterday, Miss Emily told methat she hoped to be soon composed enough to examine the papersleft by her aunt."

Miss Jethro suddenly turned in her chair, and looked at DoctorAllday.

"Are you beginning to feel interested?" the doctor askedmischievously.

She neither acknowledged nor denied it. "Go on"--was all shesaid.

"I don't know how _you_ feel," he proceeded; "_I_ am afraid ofthe discoveries which she may make; and I am strongly tempted toadvise her to leave the proposed examination to her aunt'slawyer. Is there anything in your knowledge of Miss Emily's latefather, which tells you that I am right?"

"Before I reply," said Miss Jethro, "it may not be amiss to letthe young lady speak for herself."

"How is she to do that?" the doctor asked.

Miss Jethro pointed to the writing table. "Look there," she said."You have not yet opened Miss Emily's letter."