The servant received Emily, on her return from the library, witha sly smile. "Here he is again, miss, waiting to see you."

She opened the parlor door, and revealed Alban Morris, asrestless as ever, walking up and down the room.

"When I missed you at the Museum, I was afraid you might be ill,"he said. "Ought I to have gone away, when my anxiety wasrelieved? Shall I go away now?"

"You must take a chair, Mr. Morris, and hear what I have to sayfor myself. When you left me after your last visit, I suppose Ifelt the force of example. At any rate I, like you, had mysuspicions. I have been trying to confirm them--and I havefailed."

He paused, with the chair in his hand. "Suspicions of Me?" heasked.

"Certainly! Can you guess how I have been employed for the lasttwo days? No--not even your ingenuity can do that. I have beenhard at work, in another reading-room, consulting the same backnumbers of the same newspaper, which you have been examining atthe British Museum. There is my confession--and now we will havesome tea."

She moved to the fireplace, to ring the bell, and failed to seethe effect produced on Alban by those lightly-uttered words. Thecommon phrase is the only phrase that can describe it. He wasthunderstruck.

"Yes," she resumed, "I have read the report of the inquest. If Iknow nothing else, I know that the murder at Zeeland can't be thediscovery which you are bent on keeping from me. Don't be alarmedfor the preservation of your secret! I am too much discouraged totry again."

The servant interrupted them by answering the bell; Alban oncemore escaped detection. Emily gave her orders with an approach tothe old gayety of her school days. "Tea, as soon as possible--andlet us have the new cake. Are you too much of a man, Mr. Morris,to like cake?"

In this state of agitation, he was unreasonably irritated by thatplayful question. "There is one thing I like better than cake,"he said; "and that one thing is a plain explanation."

His tone puzzled her. "Have I said anything to offend you?" sheasked. "Surely you can make allowance for a girl's curiosity? Oh,you shall have your explanation--and, what is more, you shallhave it without reserve!"

She was as good as her word. What she had thought, and what shehad planned, when he left her after his last visit, was franklyand fully told. "If you wonder how I discovered the library," shewent on, "I must refer you to my aunt's lawyer. He lives in theCity--and I wrote to him to help me. I don't consider that mytime has been wasted. Mr. M orris, we owe an apology to Mrs.Rook."

Alban's astonishment, when he heard this, forced its way toexpression in words. "What can you possibly mean?" he asked.

The tea was brought in before Emily could reply. She filled thecups, and sighed as she looked at the cake. "If Cecilia was here,how she would enjoy it!" With that complimentary tribute to herfriend, she handed a slice to Alban. He never even noticed it.

"We have both of us behaved most unkindly to Mrs. Rook," sheresumed. "I can excuse your not seeing it; for I should not haveseen it either, but for the newspaper. While I was reading, I hadan opportunity of thinking over what we said and did, when thepoor woman's behavior so needlessly offended us. I was tooexcited to think, at the time--and, besides, I had been upset,only the night before, by what Miss Jethro said to me."

Alban started. "What has Miss Jethro to do with it?" he asked.

"Nothing at all," Emily answered. "She spoke to me of her ownprivate affairs. A long story--and you wouldn't be interested init. Let me finish what I had to say. Mrs. Rook was naturallyreminded of the murder, when she heard that my name was Brown;and she must certainly have been struck--as I was--by thecoincidence of my father's death taking place at the same timewhen his unfortunate namesake was killed. Doesn't thissufficiently account for her agitation when she looked at thelocket? We first took her by surprise: and then we suspected herof Heaven knows what, because the poor creature didn't happen tohave her wits about her, and to remember at the right moment whata very common name 'James Brown' is. Don't you see it as I do?"

"I see that you have arrived at a remarkable change of opinion,since we spoke of the subject in the garden at school."

"In my place, you would have changed your opinion too. I shallwrite to Mrs. Rook by tomorrow's post."

Alban heard her with dismay. "Pray be guided by my advice!" hesaid earnestly. "Pray don't write that letter!"

"Why not?"

It was too late to recall the words which he had rashly allowedto escape him. How could he reply?

To own that he had not only read what Emily had read, but hadcarefully copied the whole narrative and considered it at hisleisure, appeared to be simply impossible after what he had nowheard. Her peace of mind depended absolutely on his discretion.In this serious emergency, silence was a mercy, and silence was alie. If he remained silent, might the mercy be trusted to atonefor the lie? He was too fond of Emily to decide that questionfairly, on its own merits. In other words, he shrank from theterrible responsibility of telling her the truth.

"Isn't the imprudence of writing to such a person as Mrs. Rookplain enough to speak for itself?" he suggested cautiously.

"Not to me."

She made that reply rather obstinately. Alban seemed (in herview) to be trying to prevent her from atoning for an act ofinjustice. Besides, he despised her cake. "I want to know why youobject," she said; taking back the neglected slice, and eating itherself.

"I object," Alban answered, "because Mrs. Rook is a coarsepresuming woman. She may pervert your letter to some use of herown, which you may have reason to regret."

"Is that all?"

"Isn't it enough?"

"It may be enough for _you_. When I have done a person an injury,and wish to make an apology, I don't think it necessary toinquire whether the person's manners happen to be vulgar or not."

Alban's patience was still equal to any demands that she couldmake on it. "I can only offer you advice which is honestlyintended for your own good," he gently replied.

"You would have more influence over me, Mr. Morris, if you were alittle readier to take me into your confidence. I daresay I amwrong--but I don't like following advice which is given to me inthe dark."

It was impossible to offend him. "Very naturally," he said; "Idon't blame you."

Her color deepened, and her voice rose. Alban's patient adherenceto his own view--so courteously and considerately urged--wasbeginning to try her temper. "In plain words," she rejoined, "Iam to believe that you can't be mistaken in your judgment ofanother person."

There was a ring at the door of the cottage while she wasspeaking. But she was too warmly interested in confuting Alban tonotice it.

He was quite willing to be confuted. Even when she lost hertemper, she was still interesting to him. "I don't expect you tothink me infallible," he said. "Perhaps you will remember that Ihave had some experience. I am unfortunately older than you are."

"Oh if wisdom comes with age," she smartly reminded him, "yourfriend Miss Redwood is old enough to be your mother--and shesuspected Mrs. Rook of murder, because the poor woman looked at adoor, and disliked being in the next room to a fidgety old maid."

Alban's manner changed: he shrank from that chance allusion todoubts and fears which he dare not acknowledge. "Let us talk ofsomething else," he said.

She looked at him with a saucy smile. "Have I driven you into acorner at last? And is _that_ your way of getting out of it?"

Even his endurance failed. "Are you trying to provoke me?" heasked. "Are you no better than other women? I wouldn't havebelieved it of you, Emily."

"Emily?" She repeated the name in a tone of surprise, whichreminded him that he had addressed her with familiarity at a mostinappropriate time--the time when they were on the point of aquarrel. He felt the implied reproach too keenly to be able toanswer her with composure.

"I think of Emily--I love Emily--my one hope is that Emily maylove me. Oh, my dear, is there no excuse if I forget to call you'Miss' when you distress me?"

All that was tender and true in her nature secretly took hispart. She would have followed that better impulse, if he had onlybeen calm enough to understand her momentary silence, and to giveher time. But the temper of a gentle and generous man, onceroused, is slow to subside. Alban abruptly left his chair. "I hadbetter go!" he said.

"As you please," she answered. "Whether you go, Mr. Morris, orwhether you stay, I shall write to Mrs. Rook."

The ring at the bell was followed by the appearance of a visitor.Doctor Allday opened the door, just in time to hear Emily's lastwords. Her vehemence seemed to amuse him.

"Who is Mrs. Rook?" he asked.

"A most respectable person," Emily answered indignantly;"housekeeper to Sir Jervis Redwood. You needn't sneer at her,Doctor Allday! She has not always been in service--she waslandlady of the inn at Zeeland."

The doctor, about to put his hat on a chair, paused. The inn atZeeland reminded him of the Handbill, and of the visit of MissJethro.

"Why are you so hot over it?" he inquired

"Because I detest prejudice!" With this assertion of liberalfeeling she pointed to Alban, standing quietly apart at thefurther end of the room. "There is the most prejudiced manliving--he hates Mrs. Rook. Would you like to be introduced tohim? You're a philosopher; you may do him some good. DoctorAllday--Mr. Alban Morris."

The doctor recognized the man, with the felt hat and theobjectionable beard, whose personal appearance had not impressedhim favorably.

Although they may hesitate to acknowledge it, there arerespectable Englishmen still left, who regard a felt hat and abeard as symbols of republican disaffection to the altar and thethrone. Doctor Allday's manner might have expressed this curiousform of patriotic feeling, but for the associations which Emilyhad revived. In his present frame of mind, he was outwardlycourteous, because he was inwardly suspicious. Mrs. Rook had beendescribed to him as formerly landlady of the inn at Zeeland. Werethere reasons for Mr. Morris's hostile feeling toward this womanwhich might be referable to the crime committed in her house thatmight threaten Emily's tranquillity if they were made known? Itwould not be amiss to see a little more of Mr. Morris, on thefirst convenient occasion.

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, sir."

"You are very kind, Doctor Allday."

The exchange of polite conventionalities having beenaccomplished, Alban approache d Emily to take his leave, withmingled feelings of regret and anxiety--regret for having allowedhimself to speak harshly; anxiety to part with her in kindness.

"Will you forgive me for differing from you?" It was all he couldventure to say, in the presence of a stranger.

"Oh, yes!" she said quietly.

"Will you think again, before you decide?"

"Certainly, Mr. Morris. But it won't alter my opinion, if I do."

The doctor, hearing what passed between them, frowned. On whatsubject had they been differing? And what opinion did Emilydecline to alter?

Alban gave it up. He took her hand gently. "Shall I see you atthe Museum, to-morrow?" he asked.

She was politely indifferent to the last. "Yes--unless somethinghappens to keep me at home."

The doctor's eyebrows still expressed disapproval. For whatobject was the meeting proposed? And why at a museum?

"Good-afternoon, Doctor Allday."

"Good-afternoon, sir."

For a moment after Alban's departure, the doctor stoodirresolute. Arriving suddenly at a decision, he snatched up hishat, and turned to Emily in a hurry.

"I bring you news, my dear, which will surprise you. Who do youthink has just left my house? Mrs. Ellmother! Don't interrupt me.She has made up her mind to go out to service again. Tired ofleading an idle life--that's her own account of it--and asks meto act as her reference."

"Did you consent?"

"Consent! If I act as her reference, I shall be asked how shecame to leave her last place. A nice dilemma! Either I must ownthat she deserted her mistress on her deathbed--or tell a lie.When I put it to her in that way, she walked out of the house indead silence. If she applies to you next, receive her as Idid--or decline to see her, which would be better still."

"Why am I to decline to see her?"

"In consequence of her behavior to your aunt, to be sure! No: Ihave said all I wanted to say--and I have no time to spare foranswering idle questions. Good-by."

Socially-speaking, doctors try the patience of their nearest anddearest friends, in this respect--they are almost always in ahurry. Doctor Allday's precipitate departure did not tend tosoothe Emily's irritated nerves. She began to find excuses forMrs. Ellmother in a spirit of pure contradiction. The oldservant's behavior might admit of justification: a friendlywelcome might persuade her to explain herself. "If she applies tome," Emily determined, "I shall certainly receive her."

Having arrived at this resolution, her mind reverted to Alban.

Some of the sharp things she had said to him, subjected toafter-reflection in solitude, failed to justify themselves. Herbetter sense began to reproach her. She tried to silence thatunwelcome monitor by laying the blame on Alban. Why had he beenso patient and so good? What harm was there in his calling her"Emily"? If he had told her to call _him_ by his Christian name,she might have done it. How noble he looked, when he got up to goaway; he was actually handsome! Women may say what they pleaseand write what they please: their natural instinct is to findtheir master in a man--especially when they like him. Sinkinglower and lower in her own estimation, Emily tried to turn thecurrent of her thoughts in another direction. She took up abook--opened it, looked into it, threw it across the room.

If Alban had returned at that moment, resolved on areconciliation--if he had said, "My dear, I want to see you likeyourself again; will you give me a kiss, and make it up"--wouldhe have left her crying, when he went away? She was crying now.