During the first days of Mirabel's sojourn at his hotel inLondon, events were in progress at Netherwoods, affecting theinterests of the man who was the especial object of his distrust.Not long after Miss Ladd had returned to her school, she heard ofan artist who was capable of filling the place to be vacated byAlban Morris. It was then the twenty-third of the month. In fourdays more the new master would be ready to enter on his duties;and Alban would be at liberty.

On the twenty-fourth, Alban received a telegram which startledhim. The person sending the message was Mrs. Ellmother; and thewords were: "Meet me at your railway station to-day, at twoo'clock."

He found the old woman in the waiting-room; and he met with arough reception.

"Minutes are precious, Mr. Morris," she said; "you are twominutes late. The next train to London stops here in half anhour--and I must go back by it."

"Good heavens, what brings you here? Is Emily--?"

"Emily is well enough in health--if that's what you mean? As towhy I come here, the reason is that it's a deal easier for me(worse luck!) to take this journey than to write a letter. Onegood turn deserves another. I don't forget how kind you were tome, away there at the school--and I can't, and won't, see what'sgoing on at the cottage, behind your back, without letting youknow of it. Oh, you needn't be alarmed about _her!_ I've made anexcuse to get away for a few hours--but I haven't left her byherself. Miss Wyvil has come to London again; and Mr. Mirabelspends the best part of his time with her. Excuse me for amoment, will you? I'm so thirsty after the journey, I can hardlyspeak."

She presented herself at the counter in the waiting-room. "I'lltrouble you, young woman, for a glass of ale." She returned toAlban in a better humor. "It's not bad stuff, that! When I havesaidmy say, I'll have a drop more--just to wash the taste of Mr.Mirabel out of my mouth. Wait a bit; I have something to ask you.How much longer are you obliged to stop here, teaching the girlsto draw?"

"I leave Netherwoods in three days more," Alban replied.

"That's all right! You may be in time to bring Miss Emily to hersenses, yet."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean--if you don't stop it--she will marry the parson."

"I can't believe it, Mrs. Ellmother! I won't believe it!"

"Ah, it's a comfort to him, poor fellow, to say that! Look here,Mr. Morris; this is how it stands. You're in disgrace with MissEmily--and he profits by it. I was fool enough to take a likingto Mr. Mirabel when I first opened the door to him; I know betternow. He got on the blind side of me; and now he has got on theblind side of _her_. Shall I tell you how? By doing what youwould have done if you had had the chance. He's helping her--orpretending to help her, I don't know which--to find the man whomurdered poor Mr. Brown. After four years! And when all thepolice in England (with a reward to encourage them) did theirbest, and it came to nothing!"

"Never mind that!" Alban said impatiently. "I want to know howMr. Mirabel is helping her?"

"That's more than I can tell you. You don't suppose they take meinto their confidence? All I can do is to pick up a word, hereand there, when fine weather tempts them out into the garden. Shetells him to suspect Mrs. Rook, and to make inquiries after MissJethro. And he has his plans; and he writes them down, which isdead against his doing anything useful, in my opinion. I don'thold with your scribblers. At the same time I wouldn't count toopositively, in your place, on his being likely to fail. Thatlittle Mirabel--if it wasn't for his beard, I should believe hewas a woman, and a sickly woman too; he fainted in our house theother day--that little Mirabel is in earnest. Rather than leaveMiss Emily from Saturday to Monday, he has got a parson out ofemployment to do his Sunday work for him. And, what's more, hehas persuaded her (for some reasons of his own) to leave Londonnext week."

"Is she going back to Monksmoor?"

"Not she! Mr. Mirabel has got a sister, a widow lady; she's acripple, or something of the sort. Her name is Mrs. Delvin. Shelives far away in the north country, by the sea; and Miss Emilyis going to stay with her."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Sure? I've seen the letter."

"Do you mean the letter of invitation?"

"Yes--I do. Miss Emily herself showed it to me. I'm to go withher--'in attendance on my mistress,' as the lady puts it. This Iwill say for Mrs. Delvin: her handwriting is a credit to theschool that taught her; and the poor bedridden creature words herinvitation so nicely, that I myself couldn't have resistedit--and I'm a hard one, as you know. You don't seem to heed me,Mr. Morris."

"I beg your pardon, I was thinking."

"Thinking of what--if I may make so bold?"

"Of going back to London with you, instead of waiting till thenew master comes to take my place."

"Don't do that, sir! You would do harm instead of good, if youshowed yourself at the cottage now. Besides, it would not be fairto Miss Ladd, to leave her before the other man takes your girlsoff your hands. Trust me to look after your interests; and don'tgo near Miss Emily--don't even write to her--unless you have gotsomething to say about the murder, which she will be eager tohear. Make some discovery in that direction, Mr. Morris, whilethe parson is only trying to do it or pretending to do it--andI'll answer for the result. Look at the clock! In ten minutesmore the train will be here. My memory isn't as good as it was;but I do think I have told you all I had to tell."

"You are the best of good friends!" Alban said warmly.

"Never mind about that, sir. If you want to do a friendly thingin return, tell me if you know what has become of Miss de Sor."

"She has returned to Netherwoods."

"Aha! Miss Ladd is as good as her word. Would you mind writing totell me of it, if Miss de Sor leaves the school again? Good Lord!there she is on the platform with bag and baggage. Don't let hersee me, Mr. Morris! If she comes in here, I shall set the marksof my ten finger-nails on that false face of hers, as sure as Iam a Christian woman."

Alban placed himself at the door, so as to hide Mrs. Ellmother.There indeed was Francine, accompanied by one of the teachers atthe school. She took a seat on the bench outside thebooking-office, in a state of sullen indifference--absorbed inherself--noticing nothing. Urged by ungovernable curiosity, Mrs.Ellmother stole on tiptoe to Alban's side to look at her. To aperson acquainted with the circumstances there could be nopossible doubt of what had happened. Francine had failed toexcuse herself, and had been dismissed from Miss Ladd's house.

"I would have traveled to the world's end," Mrs. Ellmother said,"to see _that!_"

She returned to her place in the waiting-room, perfectlysatisfied.

The teacher noticed Alban, on leaving the booking-office aftertaking the tickets. "I shall be glad," she said, looking towardFrancine, "when I have resigned the charge of that young lady tothe person who is to receive her in London."

"Is she to be sent back to her parents?" Alban asked.

"We don't know yet. Miss Ladd will write to St. Domingo by thenext mail. In the meantime, her father's agent in London--thesame person who pays her allowance--takes care of her until hehears from the West Indies."

"Does she consent to this?"

"She doesn't seem to care what becomes of her. Miss Ladd hasgiven her every opportunity of explaining and excusing herself,and has produced no impression. You can see the state she is in.Our good mistress--always hopeful even in the worst cases, as youknow--thinks she is feeling ashamed of herself, and is too proudand self-willed to own it. My own idea is, that some secretdisappointment is weighing on her mind. Perhaps I am wrong."

No. Miss Ladd was wrong; and the teacher was right.

The passion of revenge, being essentially selfish in its nature,is of all passions the narrowest in its range of view. Ingratifying her jealous hatred of Emily, Francine had correctlyforeseen consequences, as they might affect the other object ofher enmity--Alban Morris. But she had failed to perceive theimminent danger of another result, which in a calmer frame ofmind might not have escaped discovery. In triumphing over Emilyand Alban, she had been the indirect means of inflicting onherself the bitterest of all disappointments--she had broughtEmily and Mirabel together. The first forewarning of thiscatastrophe had reached her, on hearing that Mirabel would notreturn to Monksmoor. Her worst fears had been thereafterconfirmed by a letter from Cecilia, which had followed her toNetherwoods. From that moment, she, who had made others wretched,paid the penalty in suffering as keen as any that she hadinflicted. Completely prostrated; powerless, through ignorance ofhis address in London, to make a last appeal to Mirabel; she wasliterally, as had just been said, careless what became of her.When the train approached, she sprang to her feet--advanced tothe edge of the platform--and suddenly drew back, shuddering. Theteacher looked in terror at Alban. Had the desperate girlmeditated throwing herself under the wheels of the engine? Thethought had been in both their minds; but neither of themacknowledged it. Francine stepped quietly into the carriage, whenthe train drew up, and laid her head back in a corner, and closedher eyes. Mrs. Ellmother took her place in another compartment,and beckoned to Alban to speak to her at the window.

"Where can I see you, when you go to London?" she asked.

"At Doctor Allday's house."

"On what day?"

"On Tuesday next."