Alban took Mrs. Ellmother at her word. "I am going to venture ona guess," he said. "You have been with Miss de Sor to-night."

"Quite true, Mr. Morris."

"I am going to guess again. Did Miss de Sor ask you to stay withher, when you went into her room?"

"That's it! She rang for me, to see how I was getting on with myneedlework--and she was what I call hearty, for the first timesince I have been in her service. I didn't think badly of herwhen she first talked of engaging me; and I've had reason torepent of my opinion ever since. Oh, she showed the cloven footto-night! 'Sit down,' she says; 'I've nothing to read, and I hatework; let's have a little chat.' She's got a glib tongue of herown. All I could do was to say a word now and then to keep hergoing. She talked and talked till it was time to light the lamp.She was particular in telling me to put the shade over it. Wewere half in the dark, and half in the light. She trapped me(Lord knows how!) into talking about foreign parts; I mean theplace she lived in before they sent her to England. Have youheard that she comes from the West lndies?"

"Yes; I have heard that. Go on."

"Wait a bit, sir. There's something, by your leave, that I wantto know. Do you believe in Witchcraft?"

"I know nothing about it. Did Miss de Sor put that question toyou?"

"She did."

"And how did you answer?"

"Neither in one way nor the other. I'm in two minds about thatmatter of Witchcraft. When I was a girl, there was an old womanin our village, who was a sort of show. People came to see herfrom all the country round--gentlefolks among them. It was hergreat age that made her famous. More than a hundred years old,sir! One of our neighbors didn't believe in her age, and sheheard of it. She cast a spell on his flock. I tell you, she senta plague on his sheep, the plague of the Bots. The whole flockdied; I remember it well. Some said the sheep would have had theBots anyhow. Some said it was the spell. Which of them was right?How am I to settle it?"

"Did you mention this to Miss de Sor?"

"I was obliged to mention it. Didn't I tell you, just now, that Ican't make up my mind about Witchcraft? 'You don't seem to knowwhether you believe or disbelieve,' she says. It made me looklike a fool. I told her I had my reasons, and then I was obligedto give them."

"And what did she do then?"

"She said, 'I've got a better story of Witchcraft than yours.'And she opened a little book, with a lot of writing in it, andbegan to read. Her story made my flesh creep. It turns me cold,sir, when I think of it now."

He heard her moaning and shuddering. Strongly as his interest wasexcited, there was a compassionate reluctance in him to ask herto go on. His merciful scruples proved to be needless. Thefascination of beauty it is possible to resist. The fascinationof horror fastens its fearful hold on us, struggle against it aswe may. Mrs. Ellmother repeated what she had heard, in spite ofherself.

"It happened in the West Indies," she said; "and the writing of awoman slave was the writing in the little book. The slave wroteabout her mother. Her mother was a black--a Witch in her owncountry. There was a forest in her own country. The devil taughther Witchcraft in the forest. The serpents and the wild beastswere afraid to touch her. She lived without eating. She was soldfor a slave, and sent to the island--an island in the WestIndies. An old man lived there; the wickedest man of them all. Hefilled the black Witch with devilish knowledge. She learned tomake the image of wax. The image of wax casts spells. You putpins in the image of wax. At every pin you put, the person underthe spell gets nearer and nearer to death. There was a poor blackin the island. He offended the Witch. She made his image in wax;she cast spells on him. He couldn't sleep; he couldn't eat; hewas such a coward that common noises frightened him. Like Me! Oh,God, like me!"

"Wait a little," Alban interposed. "You are exciting yourselfagain--wait."

"You're wrong, sir! You think it ended when she finished herstory, and shut up her book; there's worse to come than anythingyou've heard yet. I don't know what I did to offend her. Shelooked at me and spoke to me, as if I was the dirt under herfeet. 'If you're too stupid to understand what I have beenreading,' she says, 'get up and go to the glass. Look atyourself, and remember what happened to the slave who was underthe spell. You're getting paler and paler, and thinner andthinner; you're pining away just as he did. Shall I tell youwhy?' She snatched off the shade from the lamp, and put her handunder the table, and brought out an image of wax. _My_ image! Shepointed to three pins in it. 'One,' she says, 'for no sleep. Onefor no appetite. One for broken nerves.' I asked her what I haddone to make such a bitter enemy of her. She says, 'Remember whatI asked of you when we talked of your being my servant. Choosewhich you will do? Die by inches' (I swear she said it as I hopeto be saved); 'die by inches, or tell me--'"

There--in the full frenzy of the agitation that possessedher--there, Mrs. Ellmother suddenly stopped.

Alban's first impression was that she might have fainted. Helooked closer, and could just see her shadowy figure still seatedin the chair. He asked if she was ill. No.

"Then why don't you go on?"

"I have done," she answered.

"Do you think you can put me off," he rejoined sternly, "withsuch an excuse as that? What did Miss de Sor ask you to tell her?You promised to trust me. Be as good as your word."

In the days of her health and strength, she would have set him atdefiance. All she could do now was to appeal to his mercy.

"Make some allowance for me," she said. "I have been terriblyupset. What has become of my courage? What has broken me down inthis way? Spare me, sir."

He refused to listen. "This vile attempt to practice on yourfears may be repeated," he reminded her. "More cruel advantagemay be taken of the nervous derangement from which you aresuffering in the climate of this place. You little know me, ifyou think I will allow that to go on."

She made a last effort to plead with him. "Oh sir, is thisbehaving like the good kind man I thought you were? You say youare Miss Emily's friend? Don't press me--for Miss Emily's sake!"

"Emily!" Alban exclaimed. "Is _she_ concerned in this?"

There was a change to tenderness in his voice, which persuadedMrs. Ellmother that she had found her way to the weak side ofhim. Her one effort now was to strengthen the impression whichshe believed herself to have produced. "Miss Emily _is_ concernedin it," she confessed.

"In what way?"

"Never mind in what way."

"But I do mind."

"I tell you, sir, Miss Emily must never know it to her dyingday!"

The first suspicion of the truth crossed Alban's mind.

"I understand you at last," he said. "What Miss Emily must neverknow--is what Miss de Sor wanted you to tell her. Oh, it'suseless to contradict me! Her motive in trying to frighten you isas plain to me now as if she had confessed it. Are you sure youdidn't betray yourself, when she showed the image of wax?"

"I should have died first!" The reply had hardly escaped herbefore she regretted it. "What makes you want to be so sure aboutit?" she said. "It looks as if you knew--"

"I do know."

"What!"

The kindest thing that he could do now was to speak out. "Yoursecret is no secret to _me_," he said.

Rage and fear shook her together. For the moment she was like theMrs. Ellmother of former days. "You lie!" she cried.

"I speak the truth."

"I won't believe you! I daren't believe you!"

"Listen to me. In Emily's interests, listen to me. I have read ofthe murder at Zeeland--"

"That's nothing! The man was a namesake of her father."

"The man was her father himself. Keep your seat! There is nothingto be alarmed about. I know that Emily is ignorant of the horriddeath that her father died. I know that you and your latemistress have kept the discovery from her to this day. I know thelove and pity which plead your excuse for deceiving her, and thecircumstances that favored the deception. My good creature,Emily's peace of mind is as sacred to me as it is to you! I loveher as I love my own life--and better. Are you calmer, now?"

He heard her crying: it was the best relief that could come toher. After waiting a while to let the tears have their way, hehelped her to rise. There was no more to be said now. The onething to do was to take her back to the house.

"I can give you a word of advice," he said, "before we part forthe night. You must leave Miss de Sor's service at once. Yourhealth will be a sufficient excuse. Give her warningimmediately."

Mrs. Ellmother hung back, when he offered her his arm. The bareprospect of seeing Francine again was revolting to her. OnAlban's assurance that the notice to leave could be given inwriting, she made no further resistance. The village clock struckeleven as they ascended the terrace steps.

A minute later, another person left the grounds by the path whichled to the house. Alban's precaution had been taken too late. Thesmell of tobacco-smoke had guided Francine, when she was at aloss which way to turn next in search of Mrs. Ellmother. For thelast quarter of an hour she had been listening, hidden among thetrees.