I Say No

by Wilkie Collins

  CHAPTER XXIX. "BONY."

  Mrs. Ellmother reluctantly entered the room.

  Since Emily had seen her last, her personal appearance doubly justifiedthe nickname by which her late mistress had distinguished her. The oldservant was worn and wasted; her gown hung loose on her angular body;the big bones of her face stood out, more prominently than ever. Shetook Emily's offered hand doubtingly. "I hope I see you well, miss,"she said--with hardly a vestige left of her former firmness of voice andmanner.

  "I am afraid you have been suffering from illness," Emily answeredgently.

  "It's the life I'm leading that wears me down; I want work and change."

  Making that reply, she looked round, and discovered Francine observingher with undisguised curiosity. "You have got company with you," shesaid to Emily. "I had better go away, and come back another time."

  Francine stopped her before she could open the door. "You mustn't goaway; I wish to speak to you."

  "About what, miss?"

  The eyes of the two women met--one, near the end of her life,concealing under a rugged surface a nature sensitively affectionate andincorruptibly true: the other, young in years, without the virtues ofyouth, hard in manner and hard at heart. In silence on either side,they stood face to face; strangers brought together by the force ofcircumstances, working inexorably toward their hidden end.

  Emily introduced Mrs. Ellmother to Francine. "It may be worth yourwhile," she hinted, "to hear what this young lady has to say."

  Mrs. Ellmother listened, with little appearance of interest in anythingthat a stranger might have to say: her eyes rested on the card whichcontained her written request to Emily. Francine, watching her closely,understood what was passing in her mind. It might be worth while toconciliate the old woman by a little act of attention. Turning to Emily,Francine pointed to the card lying on the table. "You have not attendedyet to Mr. Ellmother's request," she said.

  Emily at once assured Mrs. Ellmother that the request was granted. "Butis it wise," she asked, "to go out to service again, at your age?"

  "I have been used to service all my life, Miss Emily--that's one reason.And service may help me to get rid of my own thoughts--that's another.If you can find me a situation somewhere, you will be doing me a goodturn."

  "Is it useless to suggest that you might come back, and live with me?"Emily ventured to say.

  Mrs. Ellmother's head sank on her breast. "Thank you kindly, miss; it_is_ useless."

  "Why is it useless?" Francine asked.

  Mrs. Ellmother was silent.

  "Miss de Sor is speaking to you," Emily reminded her.

  "Am I to answer Miss de Sor?"

  Attentively observing what passed, and placing her own construction onlooks and tones, it suddenly struck Francine that Emily herself might bein Mrs. Ellmother's confidence, and that she might have reasons of herown for assuming ignorance when awkward questions were asked. For themoment at least, Francine decided on keeping her suspicions to herself.

  "I may perhaps offer you the employment you want," she said to Mrs.Ellmother. "I am staying at Brighton, for the present, with the lady whowas Miss Emily's schoolmistress, and I am in need of a maid. Would yoube willing to consider it, if I proposed to engage you?"

  "Yes, miss."

  "In that case, you can hardly object to the customary inquiry. Why didyou leave your last place?"

  Mrs. Ellmother appealed to Emily. "Did you tell this young lady how longI remained in my last place?"

  Melancholy remembrances had been revived in Emily by the turn which thetalk had now taken. Francine's cat-like patience, stealthily feeling itsway to its end, jarred on her nerves. "Yes," she said; "in justice toyou, I have mentioned your long term of service."

  Mrs. Ellmother addressed Francine. "You know, miss, that I servedmy late mistress for over twenty-five years. Will you please rememberthat--and let it be a reason for not asking me why I left my place."

  Francine smiled compassionately. "My good creature, you have mentionedthe very reason why I _should_ ask. You live five-and-twenty years withyour mistress--and then suddenly leave her--and you expect me to passover this extraordinary proceeding without inquiry. Take a little timeto think."

  "I want no time to think. What I had in my mind, when I left MissLetitia, is something which I refuse to explain, miss, to you, or toanybody."

  She recovered some of her old firmness, when she made that reply.Francine saw the necessity of yielding--for the time at least, Emilyremained silent, oppressed by remembrance of the doubts and fears whichhad darkened the last miserable days of her aunt's illness. She beganalready to regret having made Francine and Mrs. Ellmother known to eachother.

  "I won't dwell on what appears to be a painful subject," Francinegraciously resumed. "I meant no offense. You are not angry, I hope?"

  "Sorry, miss. I might have been angry, at one time. That time is over."

  It was said sadly and resignedly: Emily heard the answer. Her heartached as she looked at the old servant, and thought of the contrastbetween past and present. With what a hearty welcome this broken womanhad been used to receive her in the bygone holiday-time! Her eyesmoistened. She felt the merciless persistency of Francine, as if it hadbeen an insult offered to herself. "Give it up!" she said sharply.

  "Leave me, my dear, to manage my own business," Francine replied. "Aboutyour qualifications?" she continued, turning coolly to Mrs. Ellmother."Can you dress hair?"

  "Yes."

  "I ought to tell you," Francine insisted, "that I am very particularabout my hair."

  "My mistress was very particular about her hair," Mrs. Ellmotheranswered.

  "Are you a good needlewoman?"

  "As good as ever I was--with the help of my spectacles."

  Francine turned to Emily. "See how well we get on together. We arebeginning to understand each other already. I am an odd creature, Mrs.Ellmother. Sometimes, I take sudden likings to persons--I have taken aliking to you. Do you begin to think a little better of me than you did?I hope you will produce the right impression on Miss Ladd; you shallhave every assistance that I can give. I will beg Miss Ladd, as a favorto me, not to ask you that one forbidden question."

  Poor Mrs. Ellmother, puzzled by the sudden appearance of Francine in thecharacter of an eccentric young lady, the creature of genial impulse,thought it right to express her gratitude for the promised interferencein her favor. "That's kind of you, miss," she said.

  "No, no, only just. I ought to tell you there's one thing Miss Laddis strict about--sweethearts. Are you quite sure," Francine inquiredjocosely, "that you can answer for yourself, in that particular?"

  This effort of humor produced its intended effect. Mrs. Ellmother,thrown off her guard, actually smiled. "Lord, miss, what will you saynext!"

  "My good soul, I will say something next that is more to the purpose. IfMiss Ladd asks me why you have so unaccountably refused to be a servantagain in this house, I shall take care to say that it is certainly notout of dislike to Miss Emily."

  "You need say nothing of the sort," Emily quietly remarked.

  "And still less," Francine proceeded, without noticing theinterruption--"still less through any disagreeable remembrances of MissEmily's aunt."

  Mrs. Ellmother saw the trap that had been set for her. "It won't do,miss," she said.

  "What won't do?"

  "Trying to pump me."

  Francine burst out laughing. Emily noticed an artificial ring in hergayety which suggested that she was exasperated, rather than amused, bythe repulse which had baffled her curiosity once more.

  Mrs. Ellmother reminded the merry young lady that the proposedarrangement between them had not been concluded yet. "Am I tounderstand, miss, that you will keep a place open for me in yourservice?"

  "You are to understand," Francine replied sharply, "that I must haveMiss Ladd's approval before I can engage you. Suppose you come toBrighton? I will pay your fare, of course."

  "Never mind my fare, miss. Will you give up pumping?"r />
  "Make your mind easy. It's quite useless to attempt pumping _you_. Whenwill you come?"

  Mrs. Ellmother pleaded for a little delay. "I'm altering my gowns," shesaid. "I get thinner and thinner--don't I, Miss Emily? My work won't bedone before Thursday."

  "Let us say Friday, then," Francine proposed.

  "Friday!" Mrs. Ellmother exclaimed. "You forget that Friday is anunlucky day."

  "I forgot that, certainly! How can you be so absurdly superstitious."

  "You may call it what you like, miss. I have good reason to think as Ido. I was married on a Friday--and a bitter bad marriage it turned outto be. Superstitious, indeed! You don't know what my experience hasbeen. My only sister was one of a party of thirteen at dinner; and shedied within the year. If we are to get on together nicely, I'll takethat journey on Saturday, if you please."

  "Anything to satisfy you," Francine agreed; "there is the address. Comein the middle of the day, and we will give you your dinner. No fearof our being thirteen in number. What will you do, if you have themisfortune to spill the salt?"

  "Take a pinch between my finger and thumb, and throw it over my leftshoulder," Mrs. Ellmother answered gravely. "Good-day, miss."

  "Good-day."

  Emily followed the departing visitor out to the hall. She had seenand heard enough to decide her on trying to break off the proposednegotiation--with the one kind purpose of protecting Mrs. Ellmotheragainst the pitiless curiosity of Francine.

  "Do you think you and that young lady are likely to get on welltogether?" she asked.

  "I have told you already, Miss Emily, I want to get away from my ownhome and my own thoughts; I don't care where I go, so long as I dothat." Having answered in those words, Mrs. Ellmother opened the door,and waited a while, thinking. "I wonder whether the dead know what isgoing on in the world they have left?" she said, looking at Emily. "Ifthey do, there's one among them knows my thoughts, and feels for me.Good-by, miss--and don't think worse of me than I deserve."

  Emily went back to the parlor. The only resource left was to plead withFrancine for mercy to Mrs. Ellmother.

  "Do you really mean to give it up?" she asked.

  "To give up--what? 'Pumping,' as that obstinate old creature calls it?"

  Emily persisted. "Don't worry the poor old soul! However strangely shemay have left my aunt and me her motives are kind and good--I am sure ofthat. Will you let her keep her harmless little secret?"

  "Oh, of course!"

  "I don't believe you, Francine!"

  "Don't you? I am like Cecilia--I am getting hungry. Shall we have somelunch?"

  "You hard-hearted creature!"

  "Does that mean--no luncheon until I have owned the truth? Suppose _you_own the truth? I won't tell Mrs. Ellmother that you have betrayed her."

  "For the last time, Francine--I know no more of it than you do. If youpersist in taking your own view, you as good as tell me I lie; and youwill oblige me to leave the room."

  Even Francine's obstinacy was compelled to give way, so far asappearances went. Still possessed by the delusion that Emily wasdeceiving her, she was now animated by a stronger motive than merecuriosity. Her sense of her own importance imperatively urged her toprove that she was not a person who could be deceived with impunity.

  "I beg your pardon," she said with humility. "But I must positively haveit out with Mrs. Ellmother. She has been more than a match for me--myturn next. I mean to get the better of her; and I shall succeed."

  "I have already told you, Francine--you will fail."

  "My dear, I am a dunce, and I don't deny it. But let me tell you onething. I haven't lived all my life in the West Indies, among blackservants, without learning something."

  "What do you mean?"

  "More, my clever friend, than you are likely to guess. In the meantime,don't forget the duties of hospitality. Ring the bell for luncheon."