The station-master had opened the carriage door for her,and had noticed that the young lady appeared to be very much agitated.
This information obtained,Alban had dispatched a telegram to Emily--in Cecilia's name:"Pray send us a few words to relieve our anxiety,and let us know if we can be of any service to you."This was plainly all that could be done--but Cecilia was not satisfied.If her father had permitted it,she would have followed Emily.Alban comforted her.He apologized to Mr.Wyvil for shortening his visit,and announced his inten tion of traveling to London by the next train."We may renew our inquiries to some advantage,"he added,after hearing what had happened in his absence,"if we can find out who was the last person who saw her,and spoke to her,before your daughter found her alone in the drawing-room.When I went out of the room,Ileft her with Miss de Sor."
The maid who waited on Miss de Sor was sent for.Francine had been out,by herself,walking in the park.She was then in her room,changing her dress.On hearing of Emily's sudden departure,she had been (as the maid reported)"much shocked and quite at a loss to understand what it meant."Joining her friends a few minutes later,Francine presented,so far as personal appearance went,a strong contrast to the pale and anxious faces round her.She looked wonderfully well,after her walk.In other respects,she was in perfect harmony with the prevalent feeling.She expressed herself with the utmost propriety;her sympathy moved poor Cecilia to tears.
"I am sure,Miss de Sor,you will try to help us?"Mr.Wyvil began "With the greatest pleasure,"Francine answered.
"How long were you and Miss Emily Brown together,after Mr.
Morris left you?"
"Not more than a quarter of an hour,I should think.""Did anything remarkable occur in the course of conversation?""Nothing whatever."
Alban interfered for the first time."Did you say anything,"he asked,"which agitated or offended Miss Brown?""That's rather an extraordinary question,"Francine remarked.
"Have you no other answer to give?"Alban inquired.
"I answer--No!"she said,with a sudden outburst of anger.
There,the matter dropped.While she spoke in reply to Mr.Wyvil,Francine had confronted him without embarrassment.When Alban interposed,she never looked at him--except when he provoked her to anger.Did she remember that the man who was questioning her,was also the man who had suspected her of writing the anonymous letter?Alban was on his guard against himself,knowing how he disliked her.But the conviction in his own mind was not to be resisted.In some unimaginable way,Francine was associated with Emily's flight from the house.
The answer to the telegram sent from the railway station had not arrived,when Alban took his departure for London.Cecilia's suspense began to grow unendurable:she looked to Mirabel for comfort,and found none.His office was to console,and his capacity for performing that office was notorious among his admirers;but he failed to present himself to advantage,when Mr.
Wyvil's lovely daughter had need of his services.He was,in truth,too sincerely anxious and distressed to be capable of commanding his customary resources of ready-made sentiment and fluently-pious philosophy.Emily's influence had awakened the only earnest and true feeling which had ever ennobled the popular preacher's life.
Toward evening,the long-expected telegram was received at last.
What could be said,under the circumstances,it said in these words:
"Safe at home--don't be uneasy about me--will write soon."With that promise they were,for the time,forced to be content.
BOOK THE FIFTH--THE COTTAGE.
