In this happy frame of mind she opened Cecilia's letter. It was full of good news from first to last.
The invalid sister had made such rapid progress toward recovery that the travelers had arranged to set forth on their journey back to England in a fortnight. 'My one regret,' Cecilia added, 'is the parting with Lady Doris. She and her husband are going to Genoa, where they will embark in Lord Janeaway's yacht for a cruise in the Mediterranean. When we have said that miserable word good-by—oh, Emily, what a hurry I shall be in to get back to you! Those allusions to your lonely life are so dreadful, my dear, that I have destroyed your letter; it is enough to break one's heart only to look at it. When once I get to London, there shall be no more solitude for my poor afflicted friend. Papa will be free from his parliamentary duties in August—and he has promised to have the house full of delightful people to meet you. Who do you think will be one of our guests? He is illustrious; he is fascinating; he deserves a line all to himself, thus:
'The Reverend Miles Mirabel!
'Lady Doris has discovered that the country parsonage, in which this brilliant clergyman submits to exile, is only twelve miles away from our house. She has written to Mr. Mirabel to introduce me, and to mention the date of my return. We will have some fun with the popular preacher—we will both fall in love with him together.
'Is there anybody to whom you would like me to send an invitation? Shall we have Mr. Alban Morris? Now I know how kindly he took care of you at the railway station, your good opinion of him is my opinion. Your letter also mentions a doctor. Is he nice? and do you think he will let me eat pastry, if we have him too? I am so overflowing with hospitality (all for your sake) that I am ready to invite anybody, and everybody, to cheer you and make you happy. Would you like to meet Miss Ladd and the whole school?
'As to our amusements, make your mind easy.
'I have come to a distinct understanding with Papa that we are to have dances every evening—except when we try a little concert as a change. Private theatricals are to follow, when we want another change after the dancing and the music. No early rising; no fixed hour for breakfast; everything that is most exquisitely delicious at dinner— and, to crown all, your room next to mine, for delightful midnight gossipings, when we ought to be in bed. What do you say, darling, to the programme?
'A last piece of news—and I have done.
'I have actually had a proposal of marriage, from a young gentleman who sits opposite me at the table d'hote! When I tell you that he has white eyelashes, and red hands, and such enormous front teeth that he can't shut his mouth, you will not need to be told that I refused him. This vindictive person has abused me ever since, in the most shameful manner. I heard him last night, under my window, trying to set one of his friends against me. 'Keep clear of her, my dear fellow; she's the most heartless creature living.' The friend took my part; he said, 'I don't agree with you; the young lady is a person of great sensibility.' 'Nonsense!' says my amiable lover; 'she eats too much— her sensibility is all stomach.' There's a wretch for you. What a shameful advantage to take of sitting opposite to me at dinner! Good-by, my love, till we meet soon, and are as happy together as the day is long.'
Emily kissed the signature. At that moment of all others, Cecilia was such a refreshing contrast to Francine!
Before putting the letter away, she looked again at that part of it which mentioned Lady Doris's introduction of Cecilia to Mr. Mirabel. 'I don't feel the slightest interest in Mr. Mirabel,' she thought, smiling as the idea occurred to her; 'and I need never have known him, but for Lady Doris—who is a perfect stranger to me.'
She had just placed the letter in her desk, when a visitor was announced. Doctor Allday presented himself (in a hurry as usual).
'Another patient waiting?' Emily asked mischievously. 'No time to spare, again?'
'Not a moment,' the old gentleman answered. 'Have you heard from Mrs. Ellmother?'
'Yes.'
'You don't mean to say you have answered her?'
'I have done better than that, doctor—I have seen her this morning.'
'And consented to be her reference, of course?'
'How well you know me!'
Doctor Allday was a philosopher: he kept his temper. 'Just what I might have expected,' he said. 'Eve and the apple! Only forbid a woman to do anything, and she does it directly—be cause you have forbidden her. I'll try the other way with you now, Miss Emily. There was something else that I meant to have forbidden.'
'What was it?'
'May I make a special request?'
'Certainly.'
'Oh, my dear, write to Mrs. Rook! I beg and entreat of you, write to Mrs. Rook!'
Emily's playful manner suddenly disappeared.
Ignoring the doctor's little outbreak of humor, she waited in grave surprise, until it was his pleasure to explain himself.
Doctor Allday, on his side, ignored the ominous change in Emily; he went on as pleasantly as ever. 'Mr. Morris and I have had a long talk about you, my dear. Mr. Morris is a capital fellow; I recommend him as a sweetheart. I also back him in the matter of Mrs. Rook.—What's the matter now? You're as red as a rose. Temper again, eh?'
'Hatred of meanness!' Emily answered indignantly. 'I despise a man who plots, behind my back, to get another man to help him. Oh, how I have been mistaken in Alban Morris!'
'Oh, how little you know of the best friend you have!' cried the doctor, imitating her. 'Girls are all alike; the only man they can understand, is the man who flatters them.
Emily made an attempt to match the doctor, with his own weapons. 'Your little joke comes too late,' she said satirically. 'There is Mrs. Rook's answer. Read it, and—' she checked herself, even in her anger she was incapable of speaking ungenerously to the old man who had so warmly befriended her. 'I won't say to
