Emily’s impulse was to avoid the drawing-master for the second time.
The moment afterward, a kinder feeling prevailed. The farewell interview
with Cecilia had left influences which pleaded for Alban Morris. It
was the day of parting good wishes and general separations: he had only
perhaps come to say good-by. She advanced to offer her hand, when he
stopped her by pointing to Sir Jervis Redwood’s card.
“May I say a word, Miss Emily, about that woman?” he asked
“Do you mean Mrs. Rook?”
“Yes. You know, of course, why she comes here?”
“She comes here by appointment, to take me to Sir Jervis Redwood’s
house. Are you acquainted with her?”
“She is a perfect stranger to me. I met her by accident on her way
here. If Mrs. Rook had been content with asking me to direct her to the
school, I should not be troubling you at this moment. But she forced her
conversation on me. And she said something which I think you ought to
know. Have you heard of Sir Jervis Redwood’s housekeeper before to-day?”
“I have only heard what my friend--Miss Cecilia Wyvil--has told me.”
“Did Miss Cecilia tell you that Mrs. Rook was acquainted with your
father or with any members of your family?”
“Certainly not!”
Alban reflected. “It was natural enough,” he resumed, “that Mrs. Rook
should feel some curiosity about You. What reason had she for putting
a question to me about your father--and putting it in a very strange
manner?”
Emily’s interest was instantly excited. She led the way back to the
seats in the shade. “Tell me, Mr. Morris, exactly what the woman said.”
As she spoke, she signed to him to be seated.
Alban observed the natural grace of her action when she set him the
example of taking a chair, and the little heightening of her color
caused by anxiety to hear what he had still to tell her. Forgetting the
restraint that he had hitherto imposed on himself, he enjoyed the luxury
of silently admiring her. Her manner betrayed none of the conscious
confusion which would have shown itself, if her heart had been
secretly inclined toward him. She saw the man looking at her. In simple
perplexity she looked at the man.
“Are you hesitating on my account?” she asked. “Did Mrs. Rook say
something of my father which I mustn’t hear?”
“No, no! nothing of the sort!”
“You seem to be confused.”
Her innocent indifference tried his patience sorely. His memory went
back to the past time--recalled the ill-placed passion of his youth, and
the cruel injury inflicted on him--his pride was roused. Was he
making himself ridiculous? The vehement throbbing of his heart almost
suffocated him. And there she sat, wondering at his odd behavior. “Even
this girl is as cold-blooded as the rest of her sex!” That angry thought
gave him back his self-control. He made his excuses with the easy
politeness of a man of the world.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Emily; I was considering how to put what I have
to say in the fewest and plainest words. Let me try if I can do it.
If Mrs. Rook had merely asked me whether your father and mother were
living, I should have attributed the question to the commonplace
curiosity of a gossiping woman, and have thought no more of it. What
she actually did say was this: ‘Perhaps you can tell me if Miss Emily’s
father--’ There she checked herself, and suddenly altered the question
in this way: ‘If Miss Emily’s _parents_ are living?’ I may be making
mountains out of molehills; but I thought at the time (and think still)
that she had some special interest in inquiring after your father, and,
not wishing me to notice it for reasons of her own, changed the form
of the question so as to include your mother. Does this strike you as a
far-fetched conclusion?”
“Whatever it may be,” Emily said, “it is my conclusion, too. How did you
answer her?”
“Quite easily. I could give her no information--and I said so.”
“Let me offer you the information, Mr. Morris, before we say anything
more. I have lost both my parents.”
Alban’s momentary outbreak of irritability was at an end. He was earnest
and yet gentle, again; he forgave her for not understanding how dear and
how delightful to him she was. “Will it distress you,” he said, “if I
ask how long it is since your father died?”
“Nearly four years,” she replied. “He was the most generous of men; Mrs.
Rook’s interest in him may surely have been a grateful interest. He
may have been kind to her in past years--and she may remember him
thankfully. Don’t you think so?”
Alban was unable to agree with her. “If Mrs. Rook’s interest in your
father was the harmless interest that you have suggested,” he said, “why
should she have checked herself in that unaccountable manner, when she
first asked me if he was living? The more I think of it now, the less
sure I feel that she knows anything at all of your family history. It
may help me to decide, if you will tell me at what time the death of
your mother took place.”
“So long ago,” Emily replied, “that I can’t even remember her death. I
was an infant at the time.”
“And yet Mrs. Rook asked me if your ‘parents’ were living! One of two
things,” Alban concluded. “Either there is some mystery in this matter,
which we cannot hope to penetrate at present--or Mrs. Rook may have been
speaking at random; on the chance of discovering whether you are related
to some ‘Mr. Brown’ whom she once knew.”
“Besides,” Emily added, “it’s only fair to remember what a common family
name mine is, and how easily people may make mistakes. I should like
to know if my dear lost father was really in her mind when she spoke to
you. Do you think I could find it out?”
“If Mrs. Rook has any reasons for concealment, I believe you would
have no chance of finding it out--unless, indeed, you could take her by
surprise.”
“In what way, Mr. Morris?”
“Only one way occurs to me just now,” he said. “Do you happen to have a
miniature or a photograph of your father?”
Emily held out a handsome locket, with a monogram in diamonds, attached
to her watch chain. “I have his photograph here,” she rejoined; “given
to me by my dear old aunt, in the days of her prosperity. Shall I show
it to Mrs. Rook?”
“Yes--if she happens, by good luck, to offer you an opportunity.”
Impatient to try the experiment, Emily rose as he spoke. “I mustn’t keep
Mrs. Rook waiting,” she said.
Alban stopped her, on the point of leaving him. The confusion and
hesitation which she had already noticed began to show themselves in his
manner once more.
“Miss Emily, may I ask you a favor before you go? I am only one of the
masters employed in the school; but I don’t think--let me say, I hope I
am not guilty of presumption--if I offer to be of some small service to
one of my pupils--”
There his embarrassment mastered him. He despised himself not only
for yielding to his own weakness, but for faltering like a fool in the
expression of a simple request. The next words died away on his lips.
This time, Emily understood him.
The subtle penetration which had long since led her to the discovery
of his secret--overpowered, thus far, by the absorbing interest of the
moment--now recovered its activity. In an instant, she remembered that
Alban’s motive for cautioning her, in her coming intercourse with Mrs.
Rook, was not the merely friendly motive which might have actuated him,
in the case of one of the other girls. At the same time, her quickness
of apprehension warned her not to risk encouraging this persistent
lover, by betraying any embarrassment on her side. He was evidently
anxious to be present (in her interests) at the interview with Mrs.
Rook. Why not? Could he reproach her with raising false hope, if she
accepted his services, under circumstances of doubt and difficulty which
he had himself been the first to point out? He could do nothing of the
sort. Without waiting until he had recovered himself, she answered him
(to all appearances) as composedly as if he had spoken to her in the
plainest terms.
“After all that you have told me,” she said, “I shall indeed feel
obliged if you will be present when I see Mrs. Rook.”
The eager brightening of his eyes, the flush of happiness that made him
look young on a sudden, were signs not to be mistaken. The sooner they
were in the presence of a third person (Emily privately concluded) the
better it might be for both of them. She led the way rapidly to the
house.