ject of Mrs. Rook. Was
he still bent on clearing up his suspicions of Sir Jervis's housekeeper?
And, with that end in view, had he followed the woman, on her return to
her master's place of abode?

Suddenly, almost irritably, Emily snatched up Sir Jervis's letter.
Before the doctor had come in, she had glanced at it, and had thrown it
aside in her impatience to read what Cecilia had written. In her present
altered frame of mind, she was inclined to think that Sir Jervis might
be the more interesting correspondent of the two.

On returning to his letter, she was disappointed at the outset.

In the first place, his handwriting was so abominably bad that she was
obliged to guess at his meaning. In the second place, he never hinted at
the circumstances under which Cecilia's letter had been confided to the
gentleman who had left it at her door.

She would once more have treated the baronet's communication with
contempt--but for the discovery that it contained an offer of employment
in London, addressed to herself.

Sir Jervis had necessarily been obliged to engage another secretary
in Emily's absence. But he was still in want of a person to serve his
literary interests in London. He had reason to believe that discoveries
made by modern travelers in Central America had been reported from time
to time by the English press; and he wished copies to be taken of any
notices of this sort which might be found, on referring to the files
of newspapers kept in the reading-room of the British Museum. If
Emily considered herself capable of contributing in this way to the
completeness of his great work on "the ruined cities," she had only
to apply to his bookseller in London, who would pay her the customary
remuneration and give her every assistance of which she might stand in
need. The bookseller's name and address followed (with nothing legible
but the two words "Bond Street"), and there was an end of Sir Jervis's
proposal.

Emily laid it aside, deferring her answer until she had read Cecilia's
letter.

CHAPTER XX. THE REVEREND MILES MIRABEL.

"I am making a little excursion from the Engadine, my dearest of all
dear friends. Two charming fellow-travelers take care of me; and we may
perhaps get as far as the Lake of Como.

"My sister (already much improved in health) remains at St. Moritz with
the old governess. The moment I know what exact course we are going to
take, I shall write to Julia to forward any letters which