could she reconcile it to her sense of
duty to her aunt to remain any longer in the room?

In the hopeless self-betrayal of delirium, Miss Letitia had revealed
some act of concealment, committed in her past life, and confided to
her faithful old servant. Under these circumstances, had Emily made
any discoveries which convicted her of taking a base advantage of her
position at the bedside? Most assuredly not! The nature of the act of
concealment; the causes that had led to it; the person (or persons)
affected by it--these were mysteries which left her entirely in the
dark. She had found out that her aunt was acquainted with Mrs. Rook, and
that was literally all she knew.

Blameless, so far, in the line of conduct that she had pursued, might
she still remain in the bed-chamber--on this distinct understanding
with herself: that she would instantly return to the sitting-room if she
heard anything which could suggest a doubt of Miss Letitia's claim to
her affection and respect? After some hesitation, she decided on leaving
it to her conscience to answer that question. Does conscience ever
say, No--when inclination says, Yes? Emily's conscience sided with her
reluctance to leave her aunt.

Throughout the time occupied by these reflections, the silence had
remained unbroken. Emily began to feel uneasy. She timidly put her hand
through the curtains, and took Miss Letitia's hand. The contact with
the burning skin startled her. She turned away to the door, to call the
servant--when the sound of her aunt's voice hurried her back to the bed.

"Are you there, Bony?" the voice asked.

Was her mind getting clear again? Emily tried the experiment of making
a plain reply. "Your niece is with you," she said. "Shall I call the
servant?"

Miss Letitia's mind was still far away from Emily, and from the present
time.

"The servant?" she repeated. "All the servants but you, Bony, have
been sent away. London's the place for us. No gossiping servants and no
curious neighbors in London. Bury the horrid truth in London. Ah, you
may well say I look anxious and wretched. I hate deception--and yet, it
must be done. Why do you waste time in talking? Why don't you find out
where the vile woman lives? Only let me get at her--and I'll make Sara
ashamed of herself."

Emily's heart beat fast when she heard the woman's name. "Sara" (as she
and her school-fellows knew) was the baptismal name of Miss Jethro. Had
her aunt alluded to the disgraced te