to guess. In the meantime,
don't forget the duties of hospitality. Ring the bell for luncheon."

CHAPTER XXX. LADY DORIS.

The arrival of Miss Ladd, some time before she had been expected,
interrupted the two girls at a critical moment. She had hurried over her
business in London, eager to pass the rest of the day with her favorite
pupil. Emily's affectionate welcome was, in some degree at least,
inspired by a sensation of relief. To feel herself in the embrace of the
warm-hearted schoolmistress was like finding a refuge from Francine.

When the hour of departure arrived, Miss Ladd invited Emily to Brighton
for the second time. "On the last occasion, my dear, you wrote me an
excuse; I won't be treated in that way again. If you can't return with
us now, come to-morrow." She added in a whisper, "Otherwise, I shall
think you include _me_ in your dislike of Francine."

There was no resisting this. It was arranged that Emily should go to
Brighton on the next day.

Left by herself, her thoughts might have reverted to Mrs. Ellmother's
doubtful prospects, and to Francine's strange allusion to her life in
the West Indies, but for the arrival of two letters by the afternoon
post. The handwriting on one of them was unknown to her. She opened
that one first. It was an answer to the letter of apology which she
had persisted in writing to Mrs. Rook. Happily for herself, Alban's
influence had not been without its effect, after his departure. She had
written kindly--but she had written briefly at the same time.

Mrs. Rook's reply presented a nicely compounded mixture of gratitude and
grief. The gratitude was addressed to Emily as a matter of course.
The grief related to her "excellent master." Sir Jervis's strength had
suddenly failed. His medical attendant, being summoned, had expressed
no surprise. "My patient is over seventy years of age," the doctor
remarked. "He will sit up late at night, writing his book; and he
refuses to take exercise, till headache and giddiness force him to try
the fresh air. As the necessary result, he has broken down at last. It
may end in paralysis, or it may end in death." Reporting this expression
of medical opinion, Mrs. Rook's letter glided imperceptibly from
respectful sympathy to modest regard for her own interests in the
future. It might be the sad fate of her husband and herself to be thrown
on the world again. If necessity brought them to London, would "kind
Miss Emily grant her the ho