tleman-like resignation, and was rewarded by tender
encouragement expressed in a look.

"Do you see that?" Cecilia whispered. "He knows how rich she is--I
wonder whether he will marry her."

Emily smiled. "I doubt it, while he is in this house," she said.
"You are as rich as Francine--and don't forget that you have other
attractions as well."

Cecilia shook her head. "Mr. Mirabel is very nice," she admitted; "but I
wouldn't marry him. Would you?"

Emily secretly compared Alban with Mirabel. "Not for the world!" she
answered.

The next day was the day of Mirabel's departure. His admirers among the
ladies followed him out to the door, at which Mr. Wyvil's carriage was
waiting. Francine threw a nosegay after the departing guest as he got
in. "Mind you come back to us on Monday!" she said. Mirabel bowed and
thanked her; but his last look was for Emily, standing apart from the
others at the top of the steps. Francine said nothing; her lips closed
convulsively--she turned suddenly pale.

CHAPTER XLI. SPEECHIFYING.

On the Monday, a plowboy from Vale Regis arrived at Monksmoor.

In respect of himself, he was a person beneath notice. In respect of
his errand, he was sufficiently important to cast a gloom over the
household. The faithless Mirabel had broken his engagement, and the
plowboy was the herald of misfortune who brought his apology. To his
great disappointment (he wrote) he was detained by the affairs of his
parish. He could only trust to Mr. Wyvil's indulgence to excuse him, and
to communicate his sincere sense of regret (on scented note paper) to
the ladies.

Everybody believed in the affairs of the parish--with the exception of
Francine. "Mr. Mirabel has made the best excuse he could think of for
shortening his visit; and I don't wonder at it," she said, looking
significantly at Emily.

Emily was playing with one of the dogs; exercising him in the tricks
which he had learned. She balanced a morsel of sugar on his nose--and
had no attention to spare for Francine.

Cecilia, as the mistress of the house, felt it her duty to interfere.
"That is a strange remark to make," she answered. "Do you mean to say
that we have driven Mr. Mirabel away from us?"

"I accuse nobody," Francine began with spiteful candor.

"Now she's going to accuse everybody!" Emily interposed, addressing
herself facetiously to the dog.

"But when girls are bent on fascinating men, whether they like it or
not," Francine proceed