Part 61 (1/2)
”Let me give you a gla.s.s of wine.”
”Thank you--I don't need it indeed.”
”You really feel better?”
”I feel quite well again--and eager to hear how I can serve you.”
”It's a long story, Mr. Mirabel--and a dreadful story.”
”Dreadful?”
”Yes! Let me tell you first how you can serve me. I am in search of a man who has done me the cruelest wrong that one human creature can inflict on another. But the chances are all against me--I am only a woman; and I don't know how to take even the first step toward discovery.”
”You will know, when I guide you.”
He reminded her tenderly of what she might expect from him, and was rewarded by a grateful look. Seeing nothing, suspecting nothing, they advanced together nearer and nearer to the end.
”Once or twice,” Emily continued, ”I spoke to you of my poor father, when we were at Monksmoor--and I must speak of him again. You could have no interest in inquiring about a stranger--and you cannot have heard how he died.”
”Pardon me, I heard from Mr. Wyvil how he died.”
”You heard what I had told Mr. Wyvil,” Emily said: ”I was wrong.”
”Wrong!” Mirabel exclaimed, in a tone of courteous surprise. ”Was it not a sudden death?”
”It _was_ a sudden death.”
”Caused by disease of the heart?”
”Caused by no disease. I have been deceived about my father's death--and I have only discovered it a few days since.”
At the impending moment of the frightful shock which she was innocently about to inflict on him, she stopped--doubtful whether it would be best to relate how the discovery had been made, or to pa.s.s at once to the result. Mirabel supposed that she had paused to control her agitation.
He was so immeasurably far away from the faintest suspicion of what was coming that he exerted his ingenuity, in the hope of sparing her.
”I can antic.i.p.ate the rest,” he said. ”Your sad loss has been caused by some fatal accident. Let us change the subject; tell me more of that man whom I must help you to find. It will only distress you to dwell on your father's death.”
”Distress me?” she repeated. ”His death maddens me!”
”Oh, don't say that!”
”Hear me! hear me! My father died murdered, at Zeeland--and the man you must help me to find is the wretch who killed him.”
She started to her feet with a cry of terror. Mirabel dropped from his chair senseless to the floor.
CHAPTER LIV. THE END OF THE FAINTING FIT.
Emily recovered her presence of mind. She opened the door, so as to make a draught of air in the room, and called for water. Returning to Mirabel, she loosened his cravat. Mrs. Ellmother came in, just in time to prevent her from committing a common error in the treatment of fainting persons, by raising Mirabel's head. The current of air, and the sprinkling of water over his face, soon produced their customary effect.