I SAY NO

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"Don't forget," Mrs. Delvin replied, "that there is a trace to be
found of Mrs. Rook, and that Emily expects you to follow it."

Mirabel shuddered. "I am surrounded by dangers, whichever way I
look," he said. "Do what I may, it turns out to be wrong. I was
wrong, perhaps, when I brought Emily here."

"No!"

"I could easily make an excuse," Mirabel persisted "and take her
back to London."

"And for all you know to the contrary," his wiser sister replied,
"Mrs. Rook may go to London; and you may take Emily back in time
to receive her at the cottage. In every way you are safer in my
old tower. And--don't forget--you have got my money to help you,
if you want it. In my belief, Miles, you _will_ want it."

"You are the dearest and best of sisters! What do you recommend
me to do?"

"What you would have been obliged to do," Mrs. Delvin answered,
"if you had remained in London. You must go to Redwood Hall
tomorrow, as Emily has arranged it. If Mrs. Rook is not there,
you must ask for her address in Scotland. If nobody knows the
address, you must still bestir yourself in trying to find it.
And, when you do fall in with Mrs. Rook--"

"Well?"

"Take care, wherever it may be, that you see her privately."

Mirabel was alarmed. "Don't keep me in suspense," he burst out.
"Tell me what you propose."

"Never mind what I propose, to-night. Before I can tell you what
I have in my mind, I must know whether Mrs. Rook is in England or
Scotland. Bring me that information to-morrow, and I shall have
something to say to you. Hark! The wind is rising, the rain is
falling. There is a chance of sleep for me--I shall soon hear the
sea. Good-night."

"Good-night, dearest--and thank you again, and again!"

CHAPTER LIX.

THE ACCIDENT AT BELFORD.

Early in the morning Mirabel set forth for Redwood Hall, in one
of the vehicles which Mrs. Delvin still kept at "The Clink" for
the convenience of visitors. He returned soon after noon; having
obtained information of the whereabout of Mrs. Rook and her
husband. When they had last been heard of, they were at Lasswade,
near Edinburgh. Whether they had, or had not, obtained the
situation of which they were in search, neither Miss Redwood nor
any one else at the Hall could tell.

In half an hour more, another horse was harnessed, and Mirabel
was on his way to the railway station at Belford, to follow Mrs.
Rook at Emily's urgent request. Before his departure, he had an
interview with his sister.

Mrs. Delvin was rich enough to believe implicitly in the power of
money. Her method of extricating her brother from the serious
difficulties that beset him, was to make it worth the while of
Mr. and Mrs. Rook to leave England. Their passage to America
would be secretly paid; and they would take with them a letter of
credit addressed to a banker in New York. If Mirabel failed to
discover them, after they had sailed, Emily could not blame his
want of devotion to her interests. He understood this; but he
remained desponding and irresolute, even with the money in his
hands. The one person who could rouse his courage and animate his
hope, was also the one person who must know nothing of what had
passed between his sister and himself. He had no choice but to
leave Emily, without being cheered by her bright looks,
invigorated by her inspiriting words. Mirabel went away on his
doubtful errand with a heavy heart.

"The Clink" was so far from the nearest post town, that the few
letters, usually addressed to the tower, were delivered by
private arrangement with a messenger. The man's punctuality
depended on the convenience of his superiors employed at the
office. Sometimes he arrived early, and sometimes he arrived
late. On this particular morning he presented himself, at half
past one o'clock, with a letter for Emily; and when Mrs.
Ellmother smartly reproved him for the delay, he coolly
attributed it to the hospitality of friends whom he had met on
the road.

The letter, directed to Emily at the cottage, had been forwarded
from London by the person left in charge. It addressed her as
"Honored Miss." She turned at once to the end--and discovered the
signature of Mrs. Rook!

"And Mr. Mirabel has gone, "Emily exclaimed, "just when his
presence is of the greatest importance to us!"

Shrewd Mrs. Ellmother suggested that it might be as well to read
the letter first--and then to form an opinion.

Emily read it.

"Lasswade, near
Edinburgh, Sept. 26th.

"HONORED MISS--I take up my pen to bespeak your kind sympathy for
my husband and myself; two old people thrown on the world again
by the death of our excellent master. We are under a month's
notice to leave Redwood Hall.

"Hearing of a situation at this place (also that our expenses
would be paid if we applied personally), we got leave of absence,
and made our application. The lady and her son are either the
stingiest people that ever lived--or they have taken a dislike to
me and my husband, and they make money a means of getting rid of
us easily. Suffice it to say that we have refused to accept
starvation wages, and that we are still out of place. It is just
possible that you may have heard of something to suit us. So I
write at once, knowing that good chances are often lost through
needless delay.

"We stop at Belford on our way back, to see some friends of my
husband, and we hope to get to Redwood Hall in good time on the
28th. Would you please address me to care of Miss Redwood, in
case you know of any good situation for which we could apply.
Perhaps we may be driven to try our luck in London. In this case,
will you permit me to have the honor of presenting my respects,
as I ventured to propose when I wrote to you a little time since.

"I beg to remain, Honored Miss,

"Your humble
servant,

"R.
ROOK."

Emily handed the letter to Mrs. Ellmother. "Read it," she said,
"and tell me what you think."

"I think you had better be careful."

"Careful of Mrs. Rook?"

"Yes--and careful of Mrs. Delvin too."

Emily was astonished. "Are you really speaking seriously?" she
said. "Mrs. Delvin is a most interesting person; so patient under
her sufferings; so kind, so clever; so interested in all that
interests _me_. I shall take the letter to her at once, and ask
her advice."

"Have your own way, miss. I can't tell you why--but I don't like
her!"

Mrs. Delvin's devotion to the interests of her guest took even
Emily by surprise. After reading Mrs. Rook's letter, she rang the
bell on her table in a frenzy of impatience. "My brother must be
instantly recalled," she said. "Telegraph to him in your own
name, telling him what has happened. He will find the message
waiting for him, at the end of his journey."

The groom, summoned by the bell, was ordered to saddle the third
and last horse left in the stables; to take the telegram to
Belford, and to wait there until the answer arrived.

"How far is it to Redwood Hall?" Emily asked, when the man had
received his orders.

"Ten miles," Mrs. Delvin answered.

"How can I get there to-day?"

"My dear, you can't get there."

"Pardon me, Mrs. Delvin, I must get there."

"Pardon _me_. My brother represents you in this matter. Leave it
to my brother."

The tone taken by Mirabel's sister was positive, to say the least
of it. Emily thought of what her faithful old servant had said,
and began to doubt her own discretion in so readily showing the
letter. The mistake--if a mistake it was--had however been
committed; and, wrong or right, she was not disposed to occupy
the subordinate position which Mrs. Delvin had assigned to her.

"If you will look at Mrs. Rook's letter again," Emily replied,
"you will see that I ought to answer it. She supposes I am in
London."

"Do you propose to tell Mrs. Rook that you are in this house?"
Mrs. Delvin asked.

"Certainly."

"You had better consult my brother, before you take any
responsibility on yourself."

Emily kept her temper. "Allow me to remind you," she said, "that
Mr. Mirabel is not acquainted with Mrs. Rook--and that I am. If I
speak to her personally, I can do much to assist the object of
our inquiries, before he returns. She is not an easy woman to
deal with--"

"And therefore," Mrs. Delvin interposed, "the sort of person who
requires careful handling by a man like my brother--a man of the
world."

"The sort of person, as I venture to think," Emily persisted,
"whom I ought to see with as little loss of time as possible."

Mrs. Delvin waited a while before she replied. In her condition
of health, anxiety was not easy to bear. Mrs. Rook's letter and
Emily's obstinacy had seriously irritated her. But, like all
persons of ability, she was capable, when there was serious
occasion for it, of exerting self-control. She really liked and
admired Emily; and, as the elder woman and the hostess, she set
an example of forbearance and good humor.

"It is out of my power to send you to Redwood Hall at once," she
resumed. "The only one of my three horses now at your disposal is
the horse which took my brother to the Hall this morning. A
distance, there and back, of twenty miles. You are not in too
great a hurry, I am sure, to allow the horse time to rest?"

Emily made her excuses with perfect grace and sincerity. "I had
no idea the distance was so great," she confessed. "I will wait,
dear Mrs. Delvin, as long as you like."

They parted as good friends as ever--with a certain reserve,
nevertheless, on either side. Emily's eager nature was depressed
and irritated by the prospect of delay. Mrs. Delvin, on the other
hand (devoted to her brother's interests), thought hopefully of
obstacles which might present themselves with the lapse of time.
The horse might prove to be incapable of further exertion for
that day. Or the threatening aspect of the weather might end in a
storm.

But the hours passed--and the sky cleared--and the horse was
reported to be fit for work again. Fortune was against the lady
of the tower; she had no choice but to submit.

Mrs. Delvin had just sent word to Emily that the carriage would
be ready for her in ten minutes, when the coachman who had driven
Mirabel to Belford returned. He brought news which agreeably
surprised both the ladies. Mirabel had reached the station five
minutes too late; the coachman had left him waiting the arrival
of the next train to the North. He would now receive the
telegraphic message at Belford, and might return immediately by
taking the groom's horse. Mrs. Delvin left it to Emily to decide
whether she would proceed by herself to Redwood Hall, or wait for
Mirabel's return.

Under the changed circumstances, Emily would have acted
ungraciously if she had persisted in holding to her first
intention. She consented to wait.

The sea still remained calm. In the stillness of the moorland
solitude on the western side of "The Clink," the rapid steps of a
horse were heard at some little distance on the highroad.

Emily ran out, followed by careful Mrs. Ellmother, expecting to
meet Mirabel.

She was disappointed: it was the groom who had returned. As he
pulled up at the house, and dismounted, Emily noticed that the
man looked excited.

"Is there anything wrong?" she asked.

"There has been an accident, miss."

"Not to Mr. Mirabel!''

"No, no, miss. An accident to a poor foolish woman, traveling
from Lasswade."

Emily looked at Mrs. Ellmother. "It can't be Mrs. Rook!" she
said.

"That's the name, miss! She got out before the train had quite
stopped, and fell on the platform."

"Was she hurt?"

"Seriously hurt, as I heard. They carried her into a house hard
by--and sent for the doctor."

"Was Mr. Mirabel one of the people who helped her?"

"He was on the other side of the platform, miss; waiting for the
train from London. I got to the station and gave him the
telegram, just as the accident took place. We crossed over to
hear more about it. Mr. Mirabel was telling me that he would
return to 'The Clink' on my horse--when he heard the woman's name
mentioned. Upon that, he changed his mind and went to the house."

"Was he let in?"

"The doctor wouldn't hear of it. He was making his examination;
and he said nobody was to be in the room but her husband and the
woman of the house."

"Is Mr. Mirabel waiting to see her?"

"Yes, miss. He said he would wait all day, if necessary; and he
gave me this bit of a note to take to the mistress."

Emily turned to Mrs. Ellmother. "It's impossible to stay here,
not knowing whether Mrs. Rook is going to live or die," she said.
"I shall go to Belford--and you will go with me."

The groom interfered. "I beg your pardon, miss. It was Mr.
Mirabel's most particular wish that you were not, on any account,
to go to Belford."

"Why not?"

"He didn't say."

Emily eyed the note in the man's hand with well-grounded
distrust. In all probability, Mirabel's object in writing was to
instruct his sister to prevent her guest from going to Belford.
The carriage was waiting at the door. With her usual promptness
of resolution, Emily decided on taking it for granted that she
was free to use as she pleased a carriage which had been already
placed at her disposal.

"Tell your mistress," she said to the groom, "that I am going to
Belford instead of to Redwood Hall."

In a minute more, she and Mrs. Ellmother were on their way to
join Mirabel at the station.

CHAPTER LX.

OUTSIDE THE ROOM.

Emily found Mirabel in the waiting room at Belford. Her sudden
appearance might well have amazed him; but his face expressed a
more serious emotion than surprise--he looked at her as if she
had alarmed him.

"Didn't you get my message?" he asked. "I told the groom I wished
you to wait for my return. I sent a note to my sister, in case he
made any mistake."

"The man made no mistake," Emily answered. "I was in too great a
hurry to be able to speak with Mrs. Delvin. Did you really
suppose I could endure the suspense of waiting till you came
back? Do you think I can be of no use--I who know Mrs. Rook?"

"They won't let you see her."

"Why not? _You_ seem to be waiting to see her."

"I am waiting for the return of the rector of Belford. He is at
Berwick; and he has been sent for at Mrs. Rook's urgent request."

"Is she dying?"

"She is in fear of death--whether rightly or wrongly, I don't
know. There is some internal injury from the fall. I hope to see
her when the rector returns. As a brother cler gyman, I may with
perfect propriety ask him to use his influence in my favor."

"I am glad to find you so eager about it."

"I am always eager in your interests."

"Don't think me ungrateful," Emily replied gently. "I am no
stranger to Mrs. Rook; and, if I send in my name, I may be able
to see her before the clergyman returns."

She stopped. Mirabel suddenly moved so as to place himself
between her and the door. "I must really beg of you to give up
that idea," he said; "you don't know what horrid sight you may
see--what dreadful agonies of pain this unhappy woman may be
suffering."

His manner suggested to Emily that he might be acting under some
motive which he was unwilling to acknowledge. "If you have a
reason for wishing that I should keep away from Mrs. Rook," she
said, "let me hear what it is. Surely we trust each other? I have
done my best to set the example, at any rate."

Mirabel seemed to be at a loss for a reply.

While he was hesitating, the station-master passed the door.
Emily asked him to direct her to the house in which Mrs. Rook had
been received. He led the way to the end of the platform, and
pointed to the house. Emily and Mrs. Ellmother immediately left
the station. Mirabel accompanied them, still remonstrating, still
raising obstacles.

The house door was opened by an old man. He looked reproachfully
at Mirabel. "You have been told already," he said, "that no
strangers are to see my wife?"

Encouraged by discovering that the man was Mr. Rook, Emily
mentioned her name. "Perhaps you may have heard Mrs. Rook speak
of me," she added.

"I've heard her speak of you oftentimes."

"What does the doctor say?"

"He thinks she may get over it. She doesn't believe him."

"Will you say that I am anxious to see her, if she feels well
enough to receive me?"

Mr. Rook looked at Mrs. Ellmother. "Are there two of you wanting
to go upstairs?" he inquired.

"This is my old friend and servant," Emily answered. "She will
wait for me down here."

"She can wait in the parlor; the good people of this house are
well known to me." He pointed to the parlor door--and then led
the way to the first floor. Emily followed him. Mirabel, as
obstinate as ever, followed Emily.

Mr. Rook opened a door at the end of the landing; and, turning
round to speak to Emily, noticed Mirabel standing behind her.
Without making any remarks, the old man pointed significantly
down the stairs. His resolution was evidently immovable. Mirabel
appealed to Emily to help him.

"She will see me, if _you_ ask her," he said, "Let me wait here?"

The sound of his voice was instantly followed by a cry from the
bed-chamber--a cry of terror.

Mr. Rook hurried into the room, and closed the door. In less than
a minute, he opened it again, with doubt and horror plainly
visible in his face. He stepped up to Mirabel--eyed him with the
closest scrutiny--and drew back again with a look of relief.

"She's wrong," he said; "you are not the man."

This strange proceeding startled Emily.

"What man do you mean?" she asked.

Mr. Rook took no notice of the question. Still looking at
Mirabel, he pointed down the stairs once more. With vacant
eyes--moving mechanically, like a sleep-walker in his
dream--Mirabel silently obeyed. Mr. Rook turned to Emily.

"Are you easily frightened?" he said

"I don't understand you," Emily replied. "Who is going to
frighten me? Why did you speak to Mr. Mirabel in that strange
way?"

Mr. Rook looked toward the bedroom door. "Maybe you'll hear why,
inside there. If I could have my way, you shouldn't see her--but
she's not to be reasoned with. A caution, miss. Don't be too
ready to believe what my wife may say to you. She's had a
fright." He opened the door. "In my belief," he whispered, "she's
off her head."

Emily crossed the threshold. Mr. Rook softly closed the door
behind her.

CHAPTER LXI.

INSIDE THE ROOM.

A decent elderly woman was seated at the bedside. She rose, and
spoke to Emily with a mingling of sorrow and confusion strikingly
expressed on her face. "It isn't my fault," she said, "that Mrs.
Rook receives you in this manner; I am obliged to humor her."

She drew aside, and showed Mrs. Rook with her head supported by
many pillows, and her face strangely hidden from view under a
veil. Emily started back in horror. "Is her face injured?" she
asked.

Mrs. Rook answered the question herself. Her voice was low and
weak; but she still spoke with the same nervous hurry of
articulation which had been remarked by Alban Morris, on the day
when she asked him to direct her to Netherwoods

"Not exactly injured," she explained; "but one's appearance is a
matter of some anxiety even on one's death-bed. I am disfigured
by a thoughtless use of water, to bring me to when I had my
fall--and I can't get at my toilet-things to put myself right
again. I don't wish to shock you. Please excuse the veil."

Emily remembered the rouge on her cheeks, and the dye on her
hair, when they had first seen each other at the school.
Vanity--of all human frailties the longest-lived--still held its
firmly-rooted place in this woman's nature; superior to torment
of conscience, unassailable by terror of death!

The good woman of the house waited a moment before she left the
room. "What shall I say," she asked, "if the clergyman comes?"

Mrs. Rook lifted her hand solemnly "Say," she answered, "that a
dying sinner is making atonement for sin. Say this young lady is
present, by the decree of an all-wise Providence. No mortal
creature must disturb us." Her hand dropped back heavily on the
bed. "Are we alone?" she asked.

"We are alone," Emily answered. "What made you scream just before
I came in?"

"No! I can't allow you to remind me of that," Mrs. Rook
protested. "I must compose myself. Be quiet. Let me think."

Recovering her composure, she also recovered that sense of
enjoyment in talking of herself, which was one of the marked
peculiarities in her character.

"You will excuse me if I exhibit religion," she resumed. "My dear
parents were exemplary people; I was most carefully brought up.
Are you pious? Let us hope so."

Emily was once more reminded of the past.

The bygone time returned to her memory--the time when she had
accepted Sir Jervis Redwood's offer of employment, and when Mrs.
Rook had arrived at the school to be her traveling companion to
the North. The wretched creature had entirely forgotten her own
loose talk, after she had drunk Miss Ladd's good wine to the last
drop in the bottle. As she was boasting now of her piety, so she
had boasted then of her lost faith and hope, and had mockingly
declared her free-thinking opinions to be the result of her
ill-assorted marriage. Forgotten--all forgotten, in this later
time of pain and fear. Prostrate under the dread of death, her
innermost nature--stripped of the concealments of her later
life--was revealed to view. The early religious training, at
which she had scoffed in the insolence of health and strength,
revealed its latent influence--intermitted, but a living
influence always from first to last. Mrs. Rook was tenderly
mindful of her exemplary parents, and proud of exhibiting
religion, on the bed from which she was never to rise again.

"Did I tell you that I am a miserable sinner?" she asked, after
an interval of silence.

Emily could endure it no longer. "Say that to the clergyman," she
answered--"not to me."

"Oh, but I must say it," Mrs. Rook insisted. "I _am_ a miserable
sinner. Let me give you an instance of it," she continued, with a
shameless relish of the memory of her own frailties. "I have been
a drinker, in my time. Anything was welcome, when the fit was on
me, as long as it got into my head. Like other persons in liquor,
I sometimes talked of things that had better have been kept
secret. We bore that in mind--my old man and I---when we were
engaged by Sir Jervis. Miss Redwood wanted to put us in the next
bedroom to hers--a risk not to be run. I might have talked of the
murder at the inn; and she might have heard me. Please to remark
a curious thing. Whatever else I might let out, when I was in my
cups, not a word about the pocketbook ever dropped from me. You
will ask how I know it. My dear, I should have heard of it from
my husband, if I had let _that_ out--and he is as much in the
dark as you are. Wonderful are the workings of the human mind, as
the poet says; and drink drowns care, as the proverb says. But
can drink deliver a person from fear by day, and fear by night? I
believe, if I had dropped a word about the pocketbook, it would
have sobered me in an instant. Have you any remark to make on
this curious circumstance?"

Thus far, Emily had allowed the woman to ramble on, in the hope
of getting information which direct inquiry might fail to
produce. It was impossible, however, to pass over the allusion to
the pocketbook. After giving her time to recover from the
exhaustion which her heavy breathing sufficiently revealed, Emily
put the question:

"Who did the pocketbook belong to?"

"Wait a little," said Mrs. Rook. "Everything in its right place,
is my motto. I mustn't begin with the pocketbook. Why did I begin
with it? Do you think this veil on my face confuses me? Suppose I
take it off. But you must promise first--solemnly promise you
won't look at my face. How can I tell you about the murder (the
murder is part of my confession, you know), with this lace
tickling my skin? Go away--and stand there with your back to me.
Thank you. Now I'll take it off. Ha! the air feels refreshing; I
know what I am about. Good heavens, I have forgotten something! I
have forgotten _him_. And after such a fright as he gave me! Did
you see him on the landing?"

"Who are you talking of?" Emily asked.

Mrs. Rook's failing voice sank lower still.

"Come closer," she said, "this must be whispered. Who am I
talking of?" she repeated. "I am talking of the man who slept in
the other bed at the inn; the man who did the deed with his own
razor. He was gone when I looked into the outhouse in the gray of
the morning. Oh, I have done my duty! I have told Mr. Rook to
keep an eye on him downstairs. You haven't an idea how obstinate
and stupid my husband is. He says I couldn't know the man,
because I didn't see him. Ha! there's such a thing as hearing,
when you don't see. I heard--and I knew it again."

Emily turned cold from head to foot.

"What did you know again?" she said.

"His voice," Mrs. Rook answered. "I'll swear to his voice before
all the judges in England."

Emily rushed to the bed. She looked at the woman who had said
those dreadful words, speechless with horror.

"You're breaking your promise!" cried Mrs. Rook. "You false girl,
you're breaking your promise!"

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