I Say No

by Wilkie Collins

  CHAPTER XLV. MISCHIEF--MAKING.

  On Monday, Mirabel made his appearance--and the demon of discordreturned with him.

  Alban had employed the earlier part of the day in making a sketch in thepark--intended as a little present for Emily. Presenting himself in thedrawing-room, when his work was completed, he found Cecilia and Francinealone. He asked where Emily was.

  The question had been addressed to Cecilia. Francine answered it.

  "Emily mustn't be disturbed," she said.

  "Why not?"

  "She is with Mr. Mirabel in the rose garden. I saw them talkingtogether--evidently feeling the deepest interest in what they weresaying to each other. Don't interrupt them--you will only be in theway."

  Cecilia at once protested against this last assertion. "She is tryingto make mischief, Mr. Morris--don't believe her. I am sure they will beglad to see you, if you join them in the garden."

  Francine rose, and left the room. She turned, and looked at Alban as sheopened the door. "Try it," she said--"and you will find I am right."

  "Francine sometimes talks in a very ill-natured way," Cecilia gentlyremarked. "Do you think she means it, Mr. Morris?'

  "I had better not offer an opinion," Alban replied.

  "Why?"

  "I can't speak impartially; I dislike Miss de Sor."

  There was a pause. Alban's sense of self-respect forbade him to try theexperiment which Francine had maliciously suggested. His thoughts--lesseasy to restrain--wandered in the direction of the garden. The attemptto make him jealous had failed; but he was conscious, at the same time,that Emily had disappointed him. After what they had said to each otherin the park, she ought to have remembered that women are at the mercy ofappearances. If Mirabel had something of importance to say to her,she might have avoided exposing herself to Francine's spitefulmisconstruction: it would have been easy to arrange with Cecilia that athird person should be present at the interview.

  While he was absorbed in these reflections, Cecilia--embarrassed bythe silence--was trying to find a topic of conversation. Alban roughlypushed his sketch-book away from him, on the table. Was he displeasedwith Emily? The same question had occurred to Cecilia at the time of thecorrespondence, on the subject of Miss Jethro. To recall those lettersled her, by natural sequence, to another effort of memory. She wasreminded of the person who had been the cause of the correspondence: herinterest was revived in the mystery of Miss Jethro.

  "Has Emily told you that I have seen your letter?" she asked.

  He roused himself with a start. "I beg your pardon. What letter are youthinking of?"

  "I was thinking of the letter which mentions Miss Jethro's strangevisit. Emily was so puzzled and so surprised that she showed it tome--and we both consulted my father. Have you spoken to Emily about MissJethro?"

  "I have tried--but she seemed to be unwilling to pursue the subject."

  "Have you made any discoveries since you wrote to Emily?"

  "No. The mystery is as impenetrable as ever."

  As he replied in those terms, Mirabel entered the conservatory from thegarden, evidently on his way to the drawing-room.

  To see the man, whose introduction to Emily it had been Miss Jethro'smysterious object to prevent--at the very moment when he had beenspeaking of Miss Jethro herself--was, not only a temptation ofcuriosity, but a direct incentive (in Emily's own interests) to make aneffort at discovery. Alban pursued the conversation with Cecilia, in atone which was loud enough to be heard in the conservatory.

  "The one chance of getting any information that I can see," heproceeded, "is to speak to Mr. Mirabel."

  "I shall be only too glad, if I can be of any service to Miss Wyvil andMr. Morris."

  With those obliging words, Mirabel made a dramatic entry, and looked atCecilia with his irresistible smile. Startled by his sudden appearance,she unconsciously assisted Alban's design. Her silence gave him theopportunity of speaking in her place.

  "We were talking," he said quietly to Mirabel, "of a lady with whom youare acquainted."

  "Indeed! May I ask the lady's name?"

  "Miss Jethro."

  Mirabel sustained the shock with extraordinary self-possession--so faras any betrayal by sudden movement was concerned. But his color told thetruth: it faded to paleness--it revealed, even to Cecilia's eyes, a manoverpowered by fright.

  Alban offered him a chair. He refused to take it by a gesture. Albantried an apology next. "I am afraid I have ignorantly revived somepainful associations. Pray excuse me."

  The apology roused Mirabel: he felt the necessity of offering someexplanation. In timid animals, the one defensive capacity which isalways ready for action is cunning. Mirabel was too wily to disputethe inference--the inevitable inference--which any one must havedrawn, after seeing the effect on him that the name of Miss Jethro hadproduced. He admitted that "painful associations" had been revived, anddeplored the "nervous sensibility" which had permitted it to be seen.

  "No blame can possibly attach to _you_, my dear sir," he continued, inhis most amiable manner. "Will it be indiscreet, on my part, if I askhow you first became acquainted with Miss Jethro?"

  "I first became acquainted with her at Miss Ladd's school," Albananswered. "She was, for a short time only, one of the teachers; andshe left her situation rather suddenly." He paused--but Mirabel madeno remark. "After an interval of a few months," he resumed, "I saw MissJethro again. She called on me at my lodgings, near Netherwoods."

  "Merely to renew your former acquaintance?"

  Mirabel made that inquiry with an eager anxiety for the reply which hewas quite unable to conceal. Had he any reason to dread what Miss Jethromight have it in her power to say of him to another person? Alban wasin no way pledged to secrecy, and he was determined to leave no meansuntried of throwing light on Miss Jethro's mysterious warning. Herepeated the plain narrative of the interview, which he had communicatedby letter to Emily. Mirabel listened without making any remark.

  "After what I have told you, can you give me no explanation?" Albanasked.

  "I am quite unable, Mr. Morris, to help you."

  Was he lying? or speaking, the truth? The impression produced on Albanwas that he had spoken the truth.

  Women are never so ready as men to resign themselves to thedisappointment of their hopes. Cecilia, silently listening up to thistime, now ventured to speak--animated by her sisterly interest in Emily.

  "Can you not tell us," she said to Mirabel, "why Miss Jethro tried toprevent Emily Brown from meeting you here?"

  "I know no more of her motive than you do," Mirabel replied.

  Alban interposed. "Miss Jethro left me," he said, "with theintention--quite openly expressed--of trying to prevent you fromaccepting Mr. Wyvil's invitation. Did she make the attempt?"

  Mirabel admitted that she had made the attempt. "But," he added,"without mentioning Miss Emily's name. I was asked to postpone my visit,as a favor to herself, because she had her own reasons for wishing it. Ihad _my_ reasons" (he bowed with gallantry to Cecilia) "for being eagerto have the honor of knowing Mr. Wyvil and his daughter; and I refused."

  Once more, the doubt arose: was he lying? or speaking the truth? And,once more, Alban could not resist the conclusion that he was speakingthe truth.

  "There is one thing I should like to know," Mirabel continued, aftersome hesitation. "Has Miss Emily been informed of this strange affair?"

  "Certainly!"

  Mirabel seemed to be disposed to continue his inquiries--and suddenlychanged his mind. Was he beginning to doubt if Alban had spoken withoutconcealment, in describing Miss Jethro's visit? Was he still afraid ofwhat Miss Jethro might have said of him? In any case, he changed thesubject, and made an excuse for leaving the room.

  "I am forgetting my errand," he said to Alban. "Miss Emily was anxiousto know if you had finished your sketch. I must tell her that you havereturned."

  He bowed and withdrew.

  Alban rose to follow him--and checked himself.

  "No," he t
hought, "I trust Emily!" He sat down again by Cecilia's side.