I Say No

by Wilkie Collins

  CHAPTER XXVIII. FRANCINE.

  "You're surprised to see me, of course?" Saluting Emily in those terms,Francine looked round the parlor with an air of satirical curiosity."Dear me, what a little place to live in!"

  "What brings you to London?" Emily inquired.

  "You ought to know, my dear, without asking. Why did I try to makefriends with you at school? And why have I been trying ever since?Because I hate you--I mean because I can't resist you--no! I meanbecause I hate myself for liking you. Oh, never mind my reasons. Iinsisted on going to London with Miss Ladd--when that horrid womanannounced that she had an appointment with her lawyer. I said, 'I wantto see Emily.' 'Emily doesn't like you.' 'I don't care whether she likesme or not; I want to see her.' That's the way we snap at each other, andthat's how I always carry my point. Here I am, till my duenna finishesher business and fetches me. What a prospect for You! Have you got anycold meat in the house? I'm not a glutton, like Cecilia--but I'm afraidI shall want some lunch."

  "Don't talk in that way, Francine!"

  "Do you mean to say you're glad to see me?"

  "If you were only a little less hard and bitter, I should always be gladto see you."

  "You darling! (excuse my impetuosity). What are you looking at? My newdress? Do you envy me?"

  "No; I admire the color--that's all."

  Francine rose, and shook out her dress, and showed it from every pointof view. "See how it's made: Paris, of course! Money, my dear; moneywill do anything--except making one learn one's lessons."

  "Are you not getting on any better, Francine?"

  "Worse, my sweet friend--worse. One of the masters, I am happy to say,has flatly refused to teach me any longer. 'Pupils without brains Iam accustomed to,' he said in his broken English; 'but a pupil with noheart is beyond my endurance.' Ha! ha! the mouldy old refugee has an eyefor character, though. No heart--there I am, described in two words."

  "And proud of it," Emily remarked.

  "Yes--proud of it. Stop! let me do myself justice. You consider tearsa sign that one has some heart, don't you? I was very near cryinglast Sunday. A popular preacher did it; no less a person that Mr.Mirabel--you look as if you had heard of him."

  "I have heard of him from Cecilia."

  "Is _she_ at Brighton? Then there's one fool more in a fashionablewatering place. Oh, she's in Switzerland, is she? I don't care where sheis; I only care about Mr. Mirabel. We all heard he was at Brighton forhis health, and was going to preach. Didn't we cram the church! Asto describing him, I give it up. He is the only little man I everadmired--hair as long as mine, and the sort of beard you see inpictures. I wish I had his fair complexion and his white hands. We wereall in love with him--or with his voice, which was it?--when he beganto read the commandments. I wish I could imitate him when he came tothe fifth commandment. He began in his deepest bass voice: 'Honor thyfather--' He stopped and looked up to heaven as if he saw the rest ofit there. He went on with a tremendous emphasis on the next word. '_And_thy mother,' he said (as if that was quite a different thing) in atearful, fluty, quivering voice which was a compliment to mothers initself. We all felt it, mothers or not. But the great sensation was whenhe got into the pulpit. The manner in which he dropped on his knees,and hid his face in his hands, and showed his beautiful rings was, as ayoung lady said behind me, simply seraphic. We understood his celebrity,from that moment--I wonder whether I can remember the sermon."

  "You needn't attempt it on my account," Emily said.

  "My dear, don't be obstinate. Wait till you hear him."

  "I am quite content to wait."

  "Ah, you're just in the right state of mind to be converted; you're ina fair way to become one of his greatest admirers. They say he is soagreeable in private life; I am dying to know him.--Do I hear a ring atthe bell? Is somebody else coming to see you?"

  The servant brought in a card and a message.

  "The person will call again, miss."

  Emily looked at the name written on the card.

  "Mrs. Ellmother!" she exclaimed.

  "What an extraordinary name!" cried Francine. "Who is she?"

  "My aunt's old servant."

  "Does she want a situation?"

  Emily looked at some lines of writing at the back of the card. DoctorAllday had rightly foreseen events. Rejected by the doctor, Mrs.Ellmother had no alternative but to ask Emily to help her.

  "If she is out of place," Francine went on, "she may be just the sort ofperson I am looking for."

  "You?" Emily asked, in astonishment.

  Francine refused to explain until she got an answer to her question."Tell me first," she said, "is Mrs. Ellmother engaged?"

  "No; she wants an engagement, and she asks me to be her reference."

  "Is she sober, honest, middle-aged, clean, steady, good-tempered,industrious?" Francine rattled on. "Has she all the virtues, and none ofthe vices? Is she not too good-looking, and has she no male followers?In one terrible word--will she satisfy Miss Ladd?"

  "What has Miss Ladd to do with it?"

  "How stupid you are, Emily! Do put the woman's card down on the table,and listen to me. Haven't I told you that one of my masters has declinedto have anything more to do with me? Doesn't that help you to understandhow I get on with the rest of them? I am no longer Miss Ladd's pupil,my dear. Thanks to my laziness and my temper, I am to be raised to thedignity of 'a parlor boarder.' In other words, I am to be a young ladywho patronizes the school; with a room of my own, and a servant of myown. All provided for by a private arrangement between my father andMiss Ladd, before I left the West Indies. My mother was at the bottom ofit, I have not the least doubt. You don't appear to understand me."

  "I don't, indeed!"

  Francine considered a little. "Perhaps they were fond of you at home,"she suggested.

  "Say they loved me, Francine--and I loved them."

  "Ah, my position is just the reverse of yours. Now they have got rid ofme, they don't want me back again at home. I know as well what my mothersaid to my father, as if I had heard her. 'Francine will never get onat school, at her age. Try her, by all means; but make some otherarrangement with Miss Ladd in case of a failure--or she will be returnedon our hands like a bad shilling.' There is my mother, my anxious,affectionate mother, hit off to a T."

  "She _is_ your mother, Francine; don't forget that."

  "Oh, no; I won't forget it. My cat is my kitten's mother--there! there!I won't shock your sensibilities. Let us get back to matter of fact.When I begin my new life, Miss Ladd makes one condition. My maid is tobe a model of discretion--an elderly woman, not a skittish young personwho will only encourage me. I must submit to the elderly woman, orI shall be sent back to the West Indies after all. How long did Mrs.Ellmother live with your aunt?"

  "Twenty-five years, and more.'

  "Good heavens, it's a lifetime! Why isn't this amazing creature livingwith you, now your aunt is dead? Did you send her away?"

  "Certainly not."

  "Then why did she go?"

  "I don't know."

  "Do you mean that she went away without a word of explanation?"

  "Yes; that is exactly what I mean."

  "When did she go? As soon as your aunt was dead?"

  "That doesn't matter, Francine."

  "In plain English, you won't tell me? I am all on fire withcuriosity--and that's how you put me out! My dear, if you have theslightest regard for me, let us have the woman in here when she comesback for her answer. Somebody must satisfy me. I mean to make Mrs.Ellmother explain herself."

  "I don't think you will succeed, Francine."

  "Wait a little, and you will see. By-the-by, it is understood thatmy new position at the school gives me the privilege of acceptinginvitations. Do you know any nice people to whom you can introduce me?"

  "I am the last person in the world who has a chance of helping you,"Emily answered. "Excepting good Doctor Allday--" On the point of addingthe name of Alban Morris, she checked herself without knowing why, andsubstitu
ted the name of her school-friend. "And not forgetting Cecilia,"she resumed, "I know nobody."

  "Cecilia's a fool," Francine remarked gravely; "but now I think of it,she may be worth cultivating. Her father is a member of Parliament--anddidn't I hear that he has a fine place in the country? You see, Emily,I may expect to be married (with my money), if I can only get into goodsociety. (Don't suppose I am dependent on my father; my marriage portionis provided for in my uncle's will.) Cecilia may really be of some useto me. Why shouldn't I make a friend of her, and get introduced to herfather--in the autumn, you know, when the house is full of company? Haveyou any idea when she is coming back?"

  "No."

  "Do you think of writing to her?"

  "Of course!"

  "Give her my kind love; and say I hope she enjoys Switzerland."

  "Francine, you are positively shameless! After calling my dearest frienda fool and a glutton, you send her your love for your own selfish ends;and you expect me to help you in deceiving her! I won't do it."

  "Keep your temper, my child. We are all selfish, you little goose. Theonly difference is--some of us own it, and some of us don't. I shallfind my own way to Cecilia's good graces quite easily: the way isthrough her mouth. You mentioned a certain Doctor Allday. Does he giveparties? And do the right sort of men go to them? Hush! I think I hearthe bell again. Go to the door, and see who it is."

  Emily waited, without taking any notice of this suggestion. The servantannounced that "the person had called again, to know if there was anyanswer."

  "Show her in here," Emily said.

  The servant withdrew, and came back again.

  "The person doesn't wish to intrude, miss; it will be quite sufficientif you will send a message by me."

  Emily crossed the room to the door.

  "Come in, Mrs. Ellmother," she said. "You have been too long awayalready. Pray come in."