On Monday, Mirabel made his appearance--and the demon of discordreturned with him.

Alban had employed the earlier part of the day in making a sketchin the park--intended as a little present for Emily. Presentinghimself in the drawing-room, when his work was completed, hefound Cecilia and Francine alone. He asked where Emily was.

The question had been addressed to Cecilia. Francine answered it.

"Emily mustn't be disturbed," she said.

"Why not?"

"She is with Mr. Mirabel in the rose garden. I saw them talkingtogether--evidently feeling the deepest interest in what theywere saying to each other. Don't interrupt them--you will only bein the way."

Cecilia at once protested against this last assertion. "She istrying to make mischief, Mr. Morris--don't believe her. I am surethey will be glad to see you, if you join them in the garden."

Francine rose, and left the room. She turned, and looked at Albanas she opened the door. "Try it," she said--"and you will find Iam right."

"Francine sometimes talks in a very ill-natured way," Ceciliagently remarked. "Do you think she means it, Mr. Morris?'

"I had better not offer an opinion," Alban replied.

"Why?"

"I can't speak impartially; I dislike Miss de Sor."

There was a pause. Alban's sense of self-respect forbade him totry the experiment which Francine had maliciously suggested. Histhoughts--less easy to restrain--wandered in the direction of thegarden. The attempt to make him jealous had failed; but he wasconscious, at the same time, that Emily had disappointed him.After what they had said to each other in the park, she ought tohave remembered that women are at the mercy of appearances. IfMirabel had something of importance to say to her, she might haveavoided exposing herself to Francine's spiteful misconstruction:it would have been easy to arrange with Cecilia that a thirdperson should be present at the interview.

While he was absorbed in these reflections, Cecilia--embarrassedby the silence--was trying to find a topic of conversation. Albanroughly pushed his sketch-book away from him, on the table. Washe displeased with Emily? The same question had occurred toCecilia at the time of the correspondence, on the subject of MissJethro. To recall those letters led her, by natural sequence, toanother effort of memory. She was reminded of the person who hadbeen the cause of the correspondence: her interest was revived inthe mystery of Miss Jethro.

"Has Emily told you that I have seen your letter?" she asked.

He roused himself with a start. "I beg your pardon. What letterare you thinking of?"

"I was thinking of the letter which mentions Miss Jethro'sstrange visit. Emily was so puzzled and so surprised that sheshowed it to me--and we both consulted my father. Have you spokento Emily about Miss Jethro?"

"I have tried--but she seemed to be unwilling to pursue thesubject."

"Have you made any discoveries since you wrote to Emily?"

"No. The mystery is as impenetrable as ever."

As he replied in those terms, Mirabel entered the conservatoryfrom the garden, evidently on his way to the drawing-room.

To see the man, whose introduction to Emily it had been MissJethro's mysterious object to prevent--at the very moment when hehad been speaking of Miss Jethro herself--was, not only atemptation of curiosity, but a direct incentive (in Emily's owninterests) to make an effort at discovery. Alban pursued theconversation with Cecilia, in a tone which was loud enough to beheard in the conservatory.

"The one chance of getting any information that I can see," heproceeded, "is to speak to Mr. Mirabel."

"I shall be only too glad, if I can be of any service to MissWyvil and Mr. Morris."

With those obliging words, Mirabel made a dramatic entry, andlooked at Cecilia with his irresistible smile. Startled by hissudden appearance, she unconsciously assisted Alban's design. Hersilence gave him the opportunity of speaking in her place.

"We were talking," he said quietly to Mirabel, "of a lady withwhom you are acquainted."

"Indeed! May I ask the lady's name?"

"Miss Jethro."

Mirabel sustained the shock with extraordinaryself-possession--so far as any betrayal by sudden movement wasconcerned. But his color told the truth: it faded to paleness--itrevealed, even to Cecilia's eyes, a man overpowered by fright.

Alban offered him a chair. He refused to take it by a gesture.Alban tried an apology next. "I am afraid I have ignorantlyrevived some painful associations. Pray excuse me."

The apology roused Mirabel: he felt the necessity of offeringsome explanation. In timid animals, the one defensive capacitywhich is always ready for action is cunning. Mirabel was too wilyto dispute the inference--the inevitable inference--which any onemust have drawn, after seeing the effect on him that the name ofMiss Jethro had produced. He admitted that "painful associations"had been revived, and deplored the "nervous sensibility" whichhad permitted it to be seen.

"No blame can possibly attach to _you_, my dear sir," hecontinued, in his most amiable manner. "Will it be indiscreet, onmy part, if I ask how you first became acquainted with MissJethro?"

"I first became acquainted with her at Miss Ladd's school," Albananswered. "She was, for a short time only, one of the teachers;and she left her situation rather suddenly." He paused--butMirabel made no remark. "After an interval of a few months," heresumed, "I saw Miss Jethro again. She called on me at mylodgings, near Netherwoods."

"Merely to renew your former acquaintance?"

Mirabel made that inquiry with an eager anxiety for the replywhich he was quite unable to conceal. Had he any reason to dreadwhat Miss Jethro might have it in her power to say of him toanother person? Alban was in no way pledged to secrecy, and hewas determined to leave no means untried of throwing light onMiss Jethro's mysterious warning. He repeated the plain narrativeof the interview, which he had communicated by letter to Emily.Mirabel listened without making any remark.

"After what I have told you, can you give me no explanation?"Alban asked.

"I am quite unable, Mr. Morris, to help you."

Was he lying? or speaking, the truth? The impression produced onAlban was that he had spoken the truth.

Women are never so ready as men to resign themselves to thedisappointment of their hopes. Cecilia, silently listening up tothis time, now ventured to speak--animated by her sisterlyinterest in Emily.

"Can you not tell us," she said to Mirabel, "why Miss Jethrotried to prevent Emily Brown from meeting you here?"

"I know no more of her motive than you do," Mirabel replied.

Alban interposed. "Miss Jethro left me," he said, "with theintention--quite openly expressed--of trying to prevent you fromaccepting Mr. Wyvil's invitation. Did she make the attempt?"

Mirabel admitted that she had made the attempt. "But," he added,"without mentioning Miss Emily's name. I was asked to postpone myvisit, as a favor to herself, because she had her own reasons forwishing it. I had _my_ reasons" (he bowed with gallantry toCecilia) "for being eager to have the honor of knowing Mr. Wyviland his daughter; and I refused."

Once more, the doubt arose: was he lying? or speaking the truth?And, once more, Alban could not resist the conclusion that he wasspeaking the truth.

"There is one thing I should liketo know," Mirabel continued, after some hesitation. "Has MissEmily been informed of this strange affair?"

"Certainly!"

Mirabel seemed to be disposed to continue his inquiries--andsuddenly changed his mind. Was he beginning to doubt if Alban hadspoken without concealment, in describing Miss Jethro's visit?Was he still afraid of what Miss Jethro might have said of him?In any case, he changed the subject, and made an excuse forleaving the room.

"I am forgetting my errand," he said to Alban. "Miss Emily wasanxious to know if you had finished your sketch. I must tell herthat you have returned."

He bowed and withdrew.

Alban rose to follow him--and checked himself.

"No," he thought, "I trust Emily!" He sat down again by Cecilia'sside.

Mirabel had indeed returned to the rose garden. He found Emilyemployed as he had left her, in making a crown of roses, to beworn by Cecilia in the evening. But, in one other respect, therewas a change. Francine was present.

"Excuse me for sending you on a needless errand," Emily said toMirabel; "Miss de Sor tells me Mr. Morris has finished hissketch. She left him in the drawing-room--why didn't you bringhim here?"

"He was talking with Miss Wyvil."

Mirabel answered absently--with his eyes on Francine. He gave herone of those significant looks, which says to a third person,"Why are you here?" Francine's jealousy declined to understandhim. He tried a broader hint, in words.

"Are you going to walk in the garden?" he said.

Francine was impenetrable. "No," she answered, "I am going tostay here with Emily."

Mirabel had no choice but to yield. Imperative anxieties forcedhim to say, in Francine's presence, what he had hoped to say toEmily privately.

"When I joined Miss Wyvil and Mr. Morris," he began, "what do youthink they were doing? They were talking of--Miss Jethro."

Emily dropped the rose-crown on her lap. It was easy to see thatshe had been disagreeably surprised.

"Mr. Morris has told me the curious story of Miss Jethro'svisit," Mirabel continued; "but I am in some doubt whether he hasspoken to me without reserve. Perhaps he expressed himself morefreely when he spoke to _you_. Miss Jethro may have saidsomething to him which tended to lower me in your estimation?"

"Certainly not, Mr. Mirabel--so far as I know. If I had heardanything of the kind, I should have thought it my duty to tellyou. Will it relieve your anxiety, if I go at once to Mr. Morris,and ask him plainly whether he has concealed anything from you orfrom me?"

Mirabel gratefully kissed her hand. "Your kindness overpowersme," he said--speaking, for once, with true emotion.

Emily immediately returned to the house. As soon as she was outof sight, Francine approached Mirabel, trembling with suppressedrage.