Part 62 (2/2)
Mirabel is helping her?”
”That's more than I can tell you. You don't suppose they take me into their confidence? All I can do is to pick up a word, here and there, when fine weather tempts them out into the garden. She tells him to suspect Mrs. Rook, and to make inquiries after Miss Jethro. And he has his plans; and he writes them down, which is dead against his doing anything useful, in my opinion. I don't hold with your scribblers. At the same time I wouldn't count too positively, in your place, on his being likely to fail. That little Mirabel--if it wasn't for his beard, I should believe he was a woman, and a sickly woman too; he fainted in our house the other day--that little Mirabel is in earnest. Rather than leave Miss Emily from Sat.u.r.day to Monday, he has got a parson out of employment to do his Sunday work for him. And, what's more, he has persuaded her (for some reasons of his own) to leave London next week.”
”Is she going back to Monksmoor?”
”Not she! Mr. Mirabel has got a sister, a widow lady; she's a cripple, or something of the sort. Her name is Mrs. Delvin. She lives far away in the north country, by the sea; and Miss Emily is going to stay with her.”
”Are you sure of that?”
”Sure? I've seen the letter.”
”Do you mean the letter of invitation?”
”Yes--I do. Miss Emily herself showed it to me. I'm to go with her--'in attendance on my mistress,' as the lady puts it. This I will say for Mrs. Delvin: her handwriting is a credit to the school that taught her; and the poor bedridden creature words her invitation so nicely, that I myself couldn't have resisted it--and I'm a hard one, as you know. You don't seem to heed me, Mr. Morris.”
”I beg your pardon, I was thinking.”
”Thinking of what--if I may make so bold?”
”Of going back to London with you, instead of waiting till the new master comes to take my place.”
”Don't do that, sir! You would do harm instead of good, if you showed yourself at the cottage now. Besides, it would not be fair to Miss Ladd, to leave her before the other man takes your girls off your hands. Trust me to look after your interests; and don't go near Miss Emily--don't even write to her--unless you have got something to say about the murder, which she will be eager to hear. Make some discovery in that direction, Mr. Morris, while the parson is only trying to do it or pretending to do it--and I'll answer for the result. Look at the clock!
In ten minutes more the train will be here. My memory isn't as good as it was; but I do think I have told you all I had to tell.”
”You are the best of good friends!” Alban said warmly.
”Never mind about that, sir. If you want to do a friendly thing in return, tell me if you know what has become of Miss de Sor.”
”She has returned to Netherwoods.”
”Aha! Miss Ladd is as good as her word. Would you mind writing to tell me of it, if Miss de Sor leaves the school again? Good Lord! there she is on the platform with bag and baggage. Don't let her see me, Mr. Morris! If she comes in here, I shall set the marks of my ten finger-nails on that false face of hers, as sure as I am a Christian woman.”
Alban placed himself at the door, so as to hide Mrs. Ellmother. There indeed was Francine, accompanied by one of the teachers at the school.
She took a seat on the bench outside the booking-office, in a state of sullen indifference--absorbed in herself--noticing nothing. Urged by ungovernable curiosity, Mrs. Ellmother stole on tiptoe to Alban's side to look at her. To a person acquainted with the circ.u.mstances there could be no possible doubt of what had happened. Francine had failed to excuse herself, and had been dismissed from Miss Ladd's house.
”I would have traveled to the world's end,” Mrs. Ellmother said, ”to see _that!_”
She returned to her place in the waiting-room, perfectly satisfied.
The teacher noticed Alban, on leaving the booking-office after taking the tickets. ”I shall be glad,” she said, looking toward Francine, ”when I have resigned the charge of that young lady to the person who is to receive her in London.”
”Is she to be sent back to her parents?” Alban asked.
”We don't know yet. Miss Ladd will write to St. Domingo by the next mail. In the meantime, her father's agent in London--the same person who pays her allowance--takes care of her until he hears from the West Indies.”
”Does she consent to this?”
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