ble village--a position
so unworthy of your talents and your claims! And you tell me I must not
talk about it. Would you have said that to Emily, if she was as anxious
as I am to see you in your right place in the world?"

"I should have answered her exactly as I have answered you."

"She will never embarrass you, Mr. Mirabel, by being as sincere as I am.
Emily can keep her own secrets."

"Is she to blame for doing that?"

"It depends on your feeling for her."

"What feeling do you mean?"

"Suppose you heard she was engaged to be married?" Francine suggested.

Mirabel's manner--studiously cold and formal thus far--altered on a
sudden. He looked with unconcealed anxiety at Francine. "Do you say that
seriously?" he asked.

"I said 'suppose.' I don't exactly know that she is engaged."

"What _do_ you know?"

"Oh, how interested you are in Emily! She is admired by some people. Are
you one of them?"

Mirabel's experience of women warned him to try silence as a means of
provoking her into speaking plainly. The experiment succeeded: Francine
returned to the question that he had put to her, and abruptly answered
it.

"You may believe me or not, as you like--I know of a man who is in love
with her. He has had his opportunities; and he has made good use of
them. Would you like to know who he is?"

"I should like to know anything which you may wish to tell me." He did
his best to make the reply in a tone of commonplace politeness--and he
might have succeeded in deceiving a man. The woman's quicker ear told
her that he was angry. Francine took the full advantage of that change
in her favor.

"I am afraid your good opinion of Emily will be shaken," she quietly
resumed, "when I tell you that she has encouraged a man who is
only drawing-master at a school. At the same time, a person in her
circumstances--I mean she has no money--ought not to be very hard to
please. Of course she has never spoken to you of Mr. Alban Morris?"

"Not that I remember."

Only four words--but they satisfied Francine.

The one thing wanting to complete the obstacle which she had now placed
in Emily's way, was that Alban Morris should enter on the scene. He
might hesitate; but, if he was really fond of Emily, the anonymous
letter would sooner or later bring him to Monksmoor. In the meantime,
her object was gained. She dropped Mirabel's arm.

"Here is the lodge," she said gayly--"I declare Cecilia has got an apron
on already! Come, and c