CHAPTER LXVI. ALBAN'S NARRATIVE.
"The information which I have obtained from Miss Jethro has beencommunicated to me, on the condition that I shall not disclose the placeof her residence. 'Let me pass out of notice (she said) as completely asif I had passed out of life; I wish to be forgotten by some, and to beunknown by others.'" With this one stipulation, she left me free to writethe present narrative of what passed at the interview between us. I feelthat the discoveries which I have made are too important to the personsinterested to be trusted to memory.
1. _She Receives Me_.
"Finding Miss Jethro's place of abode, with far less difficulty than Ihad anticipated (thanks to favoring circumstances), I stated plainly theobject of my visit. She declined to enter into conversation with me onthe subject of the murder at Zeeland.
"I was prepared to meet with this rebuke, and to take the necessarymeasures for obtaining a more satisfactory reception. 'A person issuspected of having committed the murder,' I said; 'and there is reasonto believe that you are in a position to say whether the suspicion isjustified or not. Do you refuse to answer me, if I put the question?'
"Miss Jethro asked who the person was.
"I mentioned the name--Mr. Miles Mirabel.
"It is not necessary, and it would certainly be not agreeable to me,to describe the effect which this reply produced on Miss Jethro. Aftergiving her time to compose herself, I entered into certain explanations,in order to convince her at the outset of my good faith. The resultjustified my anticipations. I was at once admitted to her confidence.
"She said, 'I must not hesitate to do an act of justice to an innocentman. But, in such a serious matter as this, you have a right to judgefor yourself whether the person who is now speaking to you is a personwhom you can trust. You may believe that I tell the truth about others,if I begin--whatever it may cost me--by telling the truth about myself.'"
2. _She Speaks of Herself_.
"I shall not attempt to place on record the confession of a most unhappywoman. It was the common story of sin bitterly repented, and of vaineffort to recover the lost place in social esteem. Too well known astory, surely, to be told again.
"But I may with perfect propriety repeat what Miss Jethro said to me,in allusion to later events in her life which are connected with my ownpersonal experience. She recalled to my memory a visit which she hadpaid to me at Netherwoods, and a letter addressed to her by DoctorAllday, which I had read at her express request.
"She said, 'You may remember that the letter contained some severereflections on my conduct. Among other things, the doctor mentions thathe called at the lodging I occupied during my visit to London, and foundI had taken to flight: also that he had reason to believe I had enteredMiss Ladd's service, under false pretenses.'
"I asked if the doctor had wronged her.
"She answered 'No: in one case, he is ignorant; in the other, he isright. On leaving his house, I found myself followed in the street bythe man to whom I owe the shame and misery of my past life. My horror ofhim is not to be described in words. The one way of escaping was offeredby an empty cab that passed me. I reached the railway station safely,and went back to my home in the country. Do you blame me?'
"It was impossible to blame her--and I said so.
"She then confessed the deception which she had practiced on Miss Ladd.'I have a cousin,' she said, 'who was a Miss Jethro like me. Beforeher marriage she had been employed as a governess. She pitied me; shesympathized with my longing to recover the character that I had lost.With her permission, I made use of the testimonials which she had earnedas a teacher--I was betrayed (to this day I don't know by whom)--and Iwas dismissed from Netherwoods. Now you know that I deceived Miss Ladd,you may reasonably conclude that I am likely to deceive You.'
"I assured her, with perfect sincerity, that I had drawn no suchconclusion. Encouraged by my reply, Miss Jethro proceeded as follows."
3. _She Speaks of Mirabel_.
"'Four years ago, I was living near Cowes, in the Isle of Wight--in acottage which had been taken for me by a gentleman who was the owner ofa yacht. We had just returned from a short cruise, and the vessel wasunder orders to sail for Cherbourg with the next tide.
"'While I was walking in my garden, I was startled by the suddenappearance Of a man (evidently a gentleman) who was a perfect strangerto me. He was in a pitiable state of terror, and he implored myprotection. In reply to my first inquiries, he mentioned the inn atZeeland, and the dreadful death of a person unknown to him; whom Irecognized (partly by the description given, and partly by comparison ofdates) as Mr. James Brown. I shall say nothing of the shock inflictedon me: you don't want to know what I felt. What I did (having literallyonly a minute left for decision) was to hide the fugitive fromdiscovery, and to exert my influence in his favor with the owner of theyacht. I saw nothing more of him. He was put on board, as soon as thepolice were out of sight, and was safely landed at Cherbourg.'
"I asked what induced her to run the risk of protecting a stranger, whowas under suspicion of having committed a murder.
"She said, 'You shall hear my explanation directly. Let us have donewith Mr. Mirabel first. We occasionally corresponded, during the longabsence on the continent; never alluding, at his express request, tothe horrible event at the inn. His last letter reached me, after hehad established himself at Vale Regis. Writing of the society in theneighborhood, he informed me of his introduction to Miss Wyvil, and ofthe invitation that he had received to meet her friend and schoolfellowat Monksmoor. I knew that Miss Emily possessed a Handbill describingpersonal peculiarities in Mr. Mirabel, not hidden under the changedappearance of his head and face. If she remembered or happened to referto that description, while she was living in the same house with him,there was a possibility at least of her suspicion being excited. Thefear of this took me to you. It was a morbid fear, and, as events turnedout, an unfounded fear: but I was unable to control it. Failing toproduce any effect on you, I went to Vale Regis, and tried (vainlyagain) to induce Mr. Mirabel to send an excuse to Monksmoor. He, likeyou, wanted to know what my motive was. When I tell you that I actedsolely in Miss Emily's interests, and that I knew how she had beendeceived about her father's death, need I say why I was afraid toacknowledge my motive?'
"I understood that Miss Jethro might well be afraid of the consequences,if she risked any allusion to Mr. Brown's horrible death, and if itafterward chanced to reach his daughter's ears. But this state offeeling implied an extraordinary interest in the preservation of Emily'speace of mind. I asked Miss Jethro how that interest had been excited?
"She answered, 'I can only satisfy you in one way. I must speak of herfather now.'"
Emily looked up from the manuscript. She felt Cecilia's arm tenderlycaressing her. She heard Cecilia say, "My poor dear, there is one lasttrial of your courage still to come. I am afraid of what you are goingto read, when you turn to the next page. And yet--"
"And yet," Emily replied gently, "it must be done. I have learned myhard lesson of endurance, Cecilia, don't be afraid."
Emily turned to the next page.
4. _She Speaks of the Dead_.
"For the first time, Miss Jethro appeared to be at a loss how toproceed. I could see that she was suffering. She rose, and opening adrawer in her writing table, took a letter from it.
"She said, 'Will you read this? It was written by Miss Emily's father.Perhaps it may say more for me than I can say for myself?'
"I copy the letter. It was thus expressed:
"'You have declared that our farewell to-day is our farewell forever.For the second time, you have refused to be my wife; and you have donethis, to use your own words, in mercy to Me.
"'In mercy to Me, I implore you to reconsider your decision.
"'If you condemn me to live without you--I feel it, I know it--youcondemn me to despair which I have not fortitude enough to endure. Lookat the passages which I have marked for you in the New Testament. Againand again, I say it; your true repentance has made you
worthy of thepardon of God. Are you not worthy of the love, admiration, and respectof man? Think! oh, Sara, think of what our lives might be, and let thembe united for time and for eternity.
"'I can write no more. A deadly faintness oppresses me. My mind is ina state unknown to me in past years. I am in such confusion that Isometimes think I hate you. And then I recover from my delusion, andknow that man never loved woman as I love you.
"'You will have time to write to me by this evening's post. I shall stopat Zeeland to-morrow, on my way back, and ask for a letter at the postoffice. I forbid explanations and excuses. I forbid heartless allusionsto your duty. Let me have an answer which does not keep me for a momentin suspense.
"'For the last time, I ask you: Do you consent to be my wife? Say,Yes--or say, No.'
"I gave her back the letter--with the one comment on it, which thecircumstances permitted me to make:
"'You said No?'
"She bent her head in silence.
"I went on--not willingly, for I would have spared her if it had beenpossible. I said, 'He died, despairing, by his own hand--and you knewit?'
"She looked up. 'No! To say that I knew it is too much. To say that Ifeared it is the truth.'
"'Did you love him?'
"She eyed me in stern surprise. 'Have _I_ any right to love? Could Idisgrace an honorable man by allowing him to marry me? You look as ifyou held me responsible for his death.'
"'Innocently responsible,' I said.
"She still followed her own train of thought. 'Do you suppose I couldfor a moment anticipate that he would destroy himself, when I wrote myreply? He was a truly religious man. If he had been in his right mind,he would have shrunk from the idea of suicide as from the idea of acrime.'
"On reflection, I was inclined to agree with her. In his terribleposition, it was at least possible that the sight of the razor(placed ready, with the other appliances of the toilet, for hisfellow-traveler's use) might have fatally tempted a man whose last hopewas crushed, whose mind was tortured by despair. I should have beenmerciless indeed, if I had held Miss Jethro accountable thus far. ButI found it hard to sympathize with the course which she had pursued, inpermitting Mr. Brown's death to be attributed to murder without a wordof protest. 'Why were you silent?' I said.
"She smiled bitterly.
"'A woman would have known why, without asking,' she replied. 'A womanwould have understood that I shrank from a public confession of myshameful past life. A woman would have remembered what reasons I hadfor pitying the man who loved me, and for accepting any responsibilityrather than associate his memory, before the world, with an unworthypassion for a degraded creature, ending in an act of suicide. Even if Ihad made that cruel sacrifice, would public opinion have believed sucha person as I am--against the evidence of a medical man, and the verdictof a jury? No, Mr. Morris! I said nothing, and I was resolved to saynothing, so long as the choice of alternatives was left to me. On theday when Mr. Mirabel implored me to save him, that choice was no longermine--and you know what I did. And now again when suspicion (after allthe long interval that had passed) has followed and found that innocentman, you know what I have done. What more do you ask of me?'
"'Your pardon,' I said, 'for not having understood you--and a lastfavor. May I repeat what I have heard to the one person of all otherswho ought to know, and who must know, what you have told me?'
"It was needless to hint more plainly that I was speaking of Emily. MissJethro granted my request.
"'It shall be as you please,' she answered. 'Say for me to _his_daughter, that the grateful remembrance of her is my one refuge from thethoughts that tortured me, when we spoke together on her last night atschool. She has made this dead heart of mine feel a reviving breath oflife, when I think of her. Never, in our earthly pilgrimage, shall wemeet again--I implore her to pity and forget me. Farewell, Mr. Morris;farewell forever.'
"I confess that the tears came into my eyes. When I could see clearlyagain, I was alone in the room."
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