In the meanwhile Emily had been true to her promise to relieveMirabel's anxieties, on the subject of Miss Jethro. Entering thedrawing-room in search of Alban, she found him talking withCecilia, and heard her own name mentioned as she opened the door.

"Here she is at last!" Cecilia exclaimed. "What in the world haskept you all this time in the rose garden?"

"Has Mr. Mirabel been more interesting than usual?" Alban askedgayly. Whatever sense of annoyance he might have felt in Emily'sabsence, was forgotten the moment she appeared; all traces oftrouble in his face vanished when they looked at each other.

"You shall judge for yourself," Emily replied with a smile. "Mr.Mirabel has been speaking to me of a relative who is very dear tohim--his sister."

Cecilia was surprised. "Why has he never spoken to _us_ of hissister?" she asked.

"It's a sad subject to speak of, my dear. His sister lives a lifeof suffering--she has been for years a prisoner in her room. Hewrites to her constantly. His letters from Monksmoor haveinterested her, poor soul. It seems he said something aboutme--and she has sent a kind message, inviting me to visit her oneof these days. Do you understand it now, Cecilia?"

"Of course I do! Tell me--is Mr. Mirabel's sister older oryounger than he is?"

"Older."

"Is she married?"

"She is a widow."

"Does she live with her brother?" Alban asked.

"Oh, no! She has her own house--far away in Northumberland."

"Is she near Sir Jervis Redwood?"

"I fancy not. Her house is on the coast."

"Any children?" Cecilia inquired.

"No; she is quite alone. Now, Cecilia, I have told you all Iknow--and I have something to say to Mr. Morris. No, you needn'tleave us; it's a subject in which you are interested. A subject,"she repeated, turning to Alban, "which you may have noticed isnot very agreeable to me."

"Miss Jethro?" Alban guessed.

"Yes; Miss Jethro."

Cecilia's curiosity instantly asserted itself.

"_We_ have tried to get Mr. Mirabel to enlighten us, and tried invain," she said. "You are a favorite. Have you succeeded?"

"I have made no attempt to succeed," Emily replied. "My onlyobject is to relieve Mr. Mirabel's anxiety, if I can--with yourhelp, Mr. Morris."

"In what way can I help you?"

"You mustn't be angry."

"Do I look angry?"

"You look serious. It is a very simple thing. Mr. Mirabel isafraid that Miss Jethro may have said something disagreeableabout him, which you might hesitate to repeat. Is he makinghimself uneasy without any reason?"

"Without the slightest reason. I have concealed nothing from Mr.Mirabel."

"Thank you for the explanation." She turned to Cecilia. "May Isend one of the servants with a message? I may as well put an endto Mr. Mirabel's suspense."

The man was summoned, and was dispatched with the message. Emilywould have done well, after this, if she had abstained fromspeaking further of Miss Jethro. But Mirabel's doubts had,unhappily, inspired a similar feeling of uncertainty in her ownmind. She was now disposed to attribute the tone of mystery inAlban's unlucky letter to some possible concealment suggested byregard for herself. "I wonder whether _I_ have any reason to feeluneasy?" she said--half in jest, half in earnest.

"Uneasy about what?" Alban inquired.

"About Miss Jethro, of course! Has she said anything of me whichyour kindness has concealed?"

Alban seemed to be a little hurt by the doubt which her questionimplied. "Was that your motive," he asked, "for answering myletter as cautiously as if you had been writing to a stranger?"

"Indeed you are quite wrong!" Emily earnestly assured him. "I wasperplexed and startled--and I took Mr. Wyvil's advice, before Iwrote to you. Shall we drop the subject?"

Alban would have willingly dropped the subject--but for thatunfortunate allusion to Mr. Wyvil. Emily had unconsciouslytouched him on a sore place. He had already heard from Cecilia ofthe consultation over his letter, and had disapproved of it. "Ithink you were wrong to trouble Mr. Wyvil," he said.

The altered tone of his voice suggested to Emily that he wouldhave spoken more severely, if Cecilia had not been in the room.She thought him needlessly ready to complain of a harmlessproceeding--and she too returned to the subject, after havingproposed to drop it not a minute since!

"You didn't tell me I was to keep your letter a secret," shereplied.

Cecilia made matters worse--with the best intentions. "I'm sure,Mr. Morris, my father was only too glad to give Emily hisadvice."

Alban remained silent--ungraciously silent as Emily thought,after Mr. Wyvil's kindness to him.

"The thing to regret," she remarked, "is that Mr. Morris allowedMiss Jethro to leave him without explaining herself. In hisplace, I should have insisted on knowing why she wanted toprevent me from meeting Mr. Mirabel in this house."

Cecilia made another unlucky attempt at judicious interference.This time, she tried a gentle remonstrance.

"Remember, Emily, how Mr. Morris was situated. He could hardly berude to a lady. And I daresay Miss Jethro had good reasons fornot wishing to explain herself."

Francine opened the drawing-room door and heard Cecilia's lastwords.

"Miss Jethro again!" she exclaimed.

"Where is Mr. Mirabel?" Emily asked. "I sent him a message."

"He regrets to say he is otherwise engaged for the present,"Francine replied with spiteful politeness. "Don't let meinterrupt the conversation. Who is this Miss Jethro, whose nameis on everybody's lips?"

Alban could keep silent no longer. "We have done with thesubject," he said sharply.

"Because I am here?"

"Because we have said more than enough about Miss Jethroalready."

"Speak for yourself, Mr. Morris," Emily answered, resenting themasterful tone which Alban's interference had assumed. "I havenot done with Miss Jethro yet, I can assure you."

"My dear, you don't know where she lives," Cecilia reminded her.

"Leave me to discover i t!" Emily answered hotly. "Perhaps Mr.Mirabel knows. I shall ask Mr. Mirabel."

"I thought you would find a reason for returning to Mr. Mirabel,"Francine remarked.

Before Emily could reply, one of the maids entered the room witha wreath of roses in her hand.

"Mr. Mirabel sends you these flowers, miss," the woman said,addressing Emily. "The boy told me they were to be taken to yourroom. I thought it was a mistake, and I have brought them to youhere."

Francine, who happened to be nearest to the door, took the rosesfrom the girl on pretense of handing them to Emily. Her jealousvigilance detected the one visible morsel of Mirabel's letter,twisted up with the flowers. Had Emily entrapped him into asecret correspondence with her? "A scrap of waste paper amongyour roses," she said, crumpling it up in her hand as if shemeant to throw it away.

But Emily was too quick for her. She caught Francine by thewrist. "Waste paper or not," she said; "it was among my flowersand it belongs to me."

Francine gave up the letter, with a look which might havestartled Emily if she had noticed it. She handed the roses toCecilia. "I was making a wreath for you to wear this evening, mydear--and I left it in the garden. It's not quite finished yet."

Cecilia was delighted. "How lovely it is!" she exclaimed. "Andhow very kind of you! I'll finish it myself." She turned away tothe conservatory.

"I had no idea I was interfering with a letter," said Francine;watching Emily with fiercely-attentive eyes, while she smoothedout the crumpled paper.

Having read what Mirabel had written to her, Emily looked up, andsaw that Alban was on the point of following Cecilia into theconservatory. He had noticed something in Francine's face whichhe was at a loss to understand, but which made her presence inthe room absolutely hateful to him. Emily followed and spoke tohim.

"I am going back to the rose garden," she said.

"For any particular purpose?" Alban inquired

"For a purpose which, I am afraid, you won't approve of. I meanto ask Mr. Mirabel if he knows Miss Jethro's address."

"I hope he is as ignorant of it as I am," Alban answered gravely.

"Are we going to quarrel over Miss Jethro, as we once quarreledover Mrs. Rook?" Emily asked--with the readiest recovery of hergood humor. "Come! come! I am sure you are as anxious, in yourown private mind, to have this matter cleared up as I am."

"With one difference--that I think of consequences, and youdon't." He said it, in his gentlest and kindest manner, andstepped into the conservatory.

"Never mind the consequences," she called after him, "if we canonly get at the truth. I hate being deceived!"

"There is no person living who has better reason than you have tosay that."

Emily looked round with a start. Alban was out of hearing. It wasFrancine who had answered her.

"What do you mean?" she said.

Francine hesitated. A ghastly paleness overspread her face.

"Are you ill?" Emily asked.

"No--I am thinking."

After waiting for a moment in silence, Emily moved away towardthe door of the drawing-room. Francine suddenly held up her hand.

"Stop!" she cried.

Emily stood still.

"My mind is made up," Francine said.

"Made up--to what?"

"You asked what I meant, just now."

"I did."

"Well, my mind is made up to answer you. Miss Emily Brown, youare leading a sadly frivolous life in this house. I am going togive you something more serious to think about than yourflirtation with Mr. Mirabel. Oh, don't be impatient! I am comingto the point. Without knowing it yourself, you have been thevictim of deception for years past--cruel deception--wickeddeception that puts on the mask of mercy."

"Are you alluding to Miss Jethro?" Emily asked, in astonishment."I thought you were strangers to each other. Just now, you wantedto know who she was."

"I know nothing about her. I care nothing about her. I am notthinking of Miss Jethro."

"Who are you thinking of?"

"I am thinking," Francine answered, "of your dead father."