CHAPTER LI. THE DOCTOR SEES.
Alban returned to Netherwoods--to continue his services, until anothermaster could be found to take his place.
By a later train Miss Ladd followed him. Emily was too well aware of theimportance of the mistress's presence to the well-being of the school,to permit her to remain at the cottage. It was understood that they wereto correspond, and that Emily's room was waiting for her at Netherwoods,whenever she felt inclined to occupy it.
Mrs. Ellmother made the tea, that evening, earlier than usual. Beingalone again with Emily, it struck her that she might take advantage ofher position to say a word in Alban's favor. She had chosen her timeunfortunately. The moment she pronounced the name, Emily checked her bya look, and spoke of another person--that person being Miss Jethro.
Mrs. Ellmother at once entered her protest, in her own downright way."Whatever you do," she said, "don't go back to that! What does MissJethro matter to you?"
"I am more interested in her than you suppose--I happen to know why sheleft the school."
"Begging your pardon, miss, that's quite impossible!"
"She left the school," Emily persisted, "for a serious reason. Miss Ladddiscovered that she had used false references."
"Good Lord! who told you that?"
"You see I know it. I asked Miss Ladd how she got her information. Shewas bound by a promise never to mention the person's name. I didn't sayit to her--but I may say it to you. I am afraid I have an idea of whothe person was."
"No," Mrs. Ellmother obstinately asserted, "you can't possibly know whoit was! How should you know?"
"Do you wish me to repeat what I heard in that room opposite, when myaunt was dying?"
"Drop it, Miss Emily! For God's sake, drop it!"
"I can't drop it. It's dreadful to me to have suspicions of my aunt--andno better reason for them than what she said in a state of delirium.Tell me, if you love me, was it her wandering fancy? or was it thetruth?"
"As I hope to be saved, Miss Emily, I can only guess as you do--I don'trightly know. My mistress trusted me half way, as it were. I'm afraid Ihave a rough tongue of my own sometimes. I offended her--and from thattime she kept her own counsel. What she did, she did in the dark, so faras I was concerned."
"How did you offend her?"
"I shall be obliged to speak of your father if I tell you how?"
"Speak of him."
"_He_ was not to blame--mind that!" Mrs. Ellmother said earnestly. "If Iwasn't certain of what I say now you wouldn't get a word out of me. Goodharmless man--there's no denying it--he _was_ in love with Miss Jethro!What's the matter?"
Emily was thinking of her memorable conversation with the disgracedteacher on her last night at school. "Nothing" she answered. "Go on."
"If he had not tried to keep it secret from us," Mrs. Ellmother resumed,"your aunt might never have taken it into her head that he was entangledin a love affair of the shameful sort. I don't deny that I helped her inher inquiries; but it was only because I felt sure from the first thatthe more she discovered the more certainly my master's innocence wouldshow itself. He used to go away and visit Miss Jethro privately. In thetime when your aunt trusted me, we never could find out where. Shemade that discovery afterward for herself (I can't tell you how longafterward); and she spent money in employing mean wretches to pry intoMiss Jethro's past life. She had (if you will excuse me for saying it)an old maid's hatred of the handsome young woman, who lured your fatheraway from home, and set up a secret (in a manner of speaking) betweenher brother and herself. I won't tell you how we looked at letters andother things which he forgot to leave under lock and key. I will onlysay there was one bit, in a journal he kept, which made me ashamed ofmyself. I read it out to Miss Letitia; and I told her in so many words,not to count any more on me. No; I haven't got a copy of the words--Ican remember them without a copy. 'Even if my religion did not forbidme to peril my soul by leading a life of sin with this woman whom Ilove'--that was how it began--'the thought of my daughter would keepme pure. No conduct of mine shall ever make me unworthy of my child'saffection and respect.' There! I'm making you cry; I won't stay here anylonger. All that I had to say has been said. Nobody but Miss Ladd knowsfor certain whether your aunt was innocent or guilty in the matterof Miss Jethro's disgrace. Please to excuse me; my work's waitingdownstairs."
From time to time, as she pursued her domestic labors, Mrs. Ellmotherthought of Mirabel. Hours on hours had passed--and the doctor had notappeared. Was he too busy to spare even a few minutes of his time? Orhad the handsome little gentleman, after promising so fairly, failed toperform his errand? This last doubt wronged Mirabel. He had engaged toreturn to the doctor's house; and he kept his word.
Doctor Allday was at home again, and was seeing patients. Introducedin his turn, Mirabel had no reason to complain of his reception. At thesame time, after he had stated the object of his visit, something oddbegan to show itself in the doctor's manner.
He looked at Mirabel with an appearance of uneasy curiosity; and hecontrived an excuse for altering the visitor's position in the room, sothat the light fell full on Mirabel's face.
"I fancy I must have seen you," the doctor said, "at some former time."
"I am ashamed to say I don't remember it," Mirabel answered.
"Ah, very likely I'm wrong! I'll call on Miss Emily, sir, you may dependon it."
Left in his consulting-room, Doctor Allday failed to ring the bell whichsummoned the next patient who was waiting for him. He took his diaryfrom the table drawer, and turned to the daily entries for the pastmonth of July.
Arriving at the fifteenth day of the month, he glanced at the firstlines of writing: "A visit from a mysterious lady, calling herself MissJethro. Our conference led to some very unexpected results."
No: that was not what he was in search of. He looked a little lowerdown: and read on regularly, from that point, as follows:
"Called on Miss Emily, in great anxiety about the discoveries whichshe might make among her aunt's papers. Papers all destroyed, thankGod--except the Handbill, offering a reward for discovery of themurderer, which she found in the scrap-book. Gave her back the Handbill.Emily much surprised that the wretch should have escaped, with sucha careful description of him circulated everywhere. She read thedescription aloud to me, in her nice clear voice: 'Supposed age betweentwenty-five and thirty years. A well-made man of small stature. Fair complexion, delicate features, clear blue eyes. Hair light, andcut rather short. Clean shaven, with the exception of narrowhalf-whiskers'--and so on. Emily at a loss to understand how thefugitive could disguise himself. Reminded her that he could effectuallydisguise his head and face (with time to help him) by letting his hairgrow long, and cultivating his beard. Emily not convinced, even by thisself-evident view of the case. Changed the subject."
The doctor put away his diary, and rang the bell.
"Curious," he thought. "That dandified little clergyman has certainlyreminded me of my discussion with Emily, more than two months since. Wasit his flowing hair, I wonder? or his splendid beard? Good God! supposeit should turn out--?"
He was interrupted by the appearance of his patient. Other ailing peoplefollowed. Doctor Allday's mind was professionally occupied for the restof the evening.
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