CHAPTER XIV. MRS. MOSEY.
Emily's first act--after the discovery of Mrs. Ellmother'sincomprehensible disappearance--was to invite the new servant to followher into the sitting-room.
"Can you explain this?" she began.
"No, miss."
"May I ask if you have come here by Mrs. Ellmother's invitation?"
"By Mrs. Ellmother's _request_, miss."
"Can you tell me how she came to make the request?"
"With pleasure, miss. Perhaps--as you find me here, a stranger toyourself, in place of the customary servant--I ought to begin by givingyou a reference."
"And, perhaps (if you will be so kind), by mentioning your name," Emilyadded.
"Thank you for reminding me, miss. My name is Elizabeth Mosey. I am wellknown to the gentleman who attends Miss Letitia. Dr. Allday will speakto my character and also to my experience as a nurse. If it would be inany way satisfactory to give you a second reference--"
"Quite needless, Mrs. Mosey."
"Permit me to thank you again, miss. I was at home this evening, whenMrs. Ellmother called at my lodgings. Says she, 'I have come here,Elizabeth, to ask a favor of you for old friendship's sake.' Says I, 'Mydear, pray command me, whatever it may be.' If this seems rather a hastyanswer to make, before I knew what the favor was, might I ask you tobear in mind that Mrs. Ellmother put it to me 'for old friendship'ssake'--alluding to my late husband, and to the business which we carriedon at that time? Through no fault of ours, we got into difficulties.Persons whom we had trusted proved unworthy. Not to trouble you further,I may say at once, we should have been ruined, if our old friend Mrs.Ellmother had not come forward, and trusted us with the savings of herlifetime. The money was all paid back again, before my husband'sdeath. But I don't consider--and, I think you won't consider--that theobligation was paid back too. Prudent or not prudent, there is nothingMrs. Ellmother can ask of me that I am not willing to do. If I have putmyself in an awkward situation (and I don't deny that it looks so) thisis the only excuse, miss, that I can make for my conduct."
Mrs. Mosey was too fluent, and too fond of hearing the sound of her owneminently persuasive voice. Making allowance for these little drawbacks,the impression that she produced was decidedly favorable; and, howeverrashly she might have acted, her motive was beyond reproach. Having saidsome kind words to this effect, Emily led her back to the main interestof her narrative.
"Did Mrs. Ellmother give no reason for leaving my aunt, at such a timeas this?" she asked.
"The very words I said to her, miss."
"And what did she say, by way of reply?"
"She burst out crying--a thing I have never known her to do before, inan experience of twenty years."
"And she really asked you to take her place here, at a moment's notice?"
"That was just what she did," Mrs. Mosey answered. "I had no need totell her I was astonished; my lips spoke for me, no doubt. She's a hardwoman in speech and manner, I admit. But there's more feeling in herthan you would suppose. 'If you are the good friend I take you for,' shesays, 'don't ask me for reasons; I am doing what is forced on me, anddoing it with a heavy heart.' In my place, miss, would you have insistedon her explaining herself, after that? The one thing I naturally wantedto know was, if I could speak to some lady, in the position of mistresshere, before I ventured to intrude. Mrs. Ellmother understood that itwas her duty to help me in this particular. Your poor aunt being out ofthe question she mentioned you."
"How did she speak of me? In an angry way?"
"No, indeed--quite the contrary. She says, 'You will find Miss Emilyat the cottage. She is Miss Letitia's niece. Everybody likes her--andeverybody is right.'"
"She really said that?"
"Those were her words. And, what is more, she gave me a message for youat parting. 'If Miss Emily is surprised' (that was how she put it) 'giveher my duty and good wishes; and tell her to remember what I said, whenshe took my place at her aunt's bedside.' I don't presume to inquirewhat this means," said Mrs. Mosey respectfully, ready to hear what itmeant, if Emily would only be so good as to tell her. "I deliver themessage, miss, as it was delivered to me. After which, Mrs. Ellmotherwent her way, and I went mine."
"Do you know where she went?"
"No, miss."
"Have you nothing more to tell me?"
"Nothing more; except that she gave me my directions, of course, aboutthe nursing. I took them down in writing--and you will find them intheir proper place, with the prescriptions and the medicines."
Acting at once on this hint, Emily led the way to her aunt's room.
Miss Letitia was silent, when the new nurse softly parted thecurtains--looked in--and drew them together again. Consulting her watch,Mrs. Mosey compared her written directions with the medicine-bottles onthe table, and set one apart to be used at the appointed time. "Nothing,so far, to alarm us," she whispered. "You look sadly pale and tired,miss. Might I advise you to rest a little?"
"If there is any change, Mrs. Mosey--either for the better or theworse--of course you will let me know?"
"Certainly, miss."
Emily returned to the sitting-room: not to rest (after all that she hadheard), but to think.
Amid much that was unintelligible, certain plain conclusions presentedthemselves to her mind.
After what the doctor had already said to Emily, on the subject ofdelirium generally, Mrs. Ellmother's proceedings became intelligible:they proved that she knew by experience the perilous course taken by hermistress's wandering thoughts, when they expressed themselves in words.This explained the concealment of Miss Letitia's illness from her niece,as well as the reiterated efforts of the old servant to prevent Emilyfrom entering the bedroom.
But the event which had just happened--that is to say, Mrs. Ellmother'ssudden departure from the cottage--was not only of serious importance initself, but pointed to a startling conclusion.
The faithful maid had left the mistress, whom she had loved and served,sinking under a fatal illness--and had put another woman in herplace, careless of what that woman might discover by listening at thebedside--rather than confront Emily after she had been within hearing ofher aunt while the brain of the suffering woman was deranged by fever.There was the state of the case, in plain words.
In what frame of mind had Mrs. Ellmother adopted this desperate courseof action?
To use her own expression, she had deserted Miss Letitia "with a heavyheart." To judge by her own language addressed to Mrs. Mosey, shehad left Emily to the mercy of a stranger--animated, nevertheless, bysincere feelings of attachment and respect. That her fears had taken forgranted suspicion which Emily had not felt, and discoveries which Emilyhad (as yet) not made, in no way modified the serious nature of theinference which her conduct justified. The disclosure which this womandreaded--who could doubt it now?--directly threatened Emily's peace ofmind. There was no disguising it: the innocent niece was associatedwith an act of deception, which had been, until that day, the undetectedsecret of the aunt and the aunt's maid.
In this conclusion, and in this only, was to be found the rationalexplanation of Mrs. Ellmother's choice--placed between the alternativesof submitting to discovery by Emily, or of leaving the house.
Poor Miss Letitia's writing-table stood near the window of thesitting-room. Shrinking from the further pursuit of thoughts which mightend in disposing her mind to distrust of her dying aunt, Emily lookedround in search of some employment sufficiently interesting to absorbher attention. The writing-table reminded her that she owed a letter toCecilia. That helpful friend had surely the first claim to know why shehad failed to keep her engagement with Sir Jervis Redwood.
After mentioning the telegram which had followed Mrs. Rook's arrival atthe school, Emily's letter proceeded in these terms:
"As soon as I had in some degree recovered myself, I informed Mrs. Rookof my aunt's serious illness.
"Although she carefully confined herself to commonplace expressions ofsympathy, I could see that it was equally
a relief to both of us to feelthat we were prevented from being traveling companions. Don't supposethat I have taken a capricious dislike to Mrs. Rook--or that you are inany way to blame for the unfavorable impression which she has producedon me. I will make this plain when we meet. In the meanwhile, I needonly tell you that I gave her a letter of explanation to present to SirJervis Redwood. I also informed him of my address in London: adding arequest that he would forward your letter, in case you have written tome before you receive these lines.
"Kind Mr. Alban Morris accompanied me to the railway-station, andarranged with the guard to take special care of me on the journey toLondon. We used to think him rather a heartless man. We were quitewrong. I don't know what his plans are for spending the summer holidays.Go where he may, I remember his kindness; my best wishes go with him.
"My dear, I must not sadden your enjoyment of your pleasant visit to theEngadine, by writing at any length of the sorrow that I am suffering.You know how I love my aunt, and how gratefully I have always felt hermotherly goodness to me. The doctor does not conceal the truth. At herage, there is no hope: my father's last-left relation, my one dearestfriend, is dying.
"No! I must not forget that I have another friend--I must find somecomfort in thinking of _you_.
"I do so long in my solitude for a letter from my dear Cecilia. Nobodycomes to see me, when I most want sympathy; I am a stranger in this vastcity. The members of my mother's family are settled in Australia: theyhave not even written to me, in all the long years that have passedsince her death. You remember how cheerfully I used to look forward tomy new life, on leaving school? Good-by, my darling. While I can seeyour sweet face, in my thoughts, I don't despair--dark as it looksnow--of the future that is before me."
Emily had closed and addressed her letter, and was just rising from herchair, when she heard the voice of the new nurse at the door.