posing herself to Francine's spiteful
misconstruction: it would have been easy to arrange with Cecilia that a
third person should be present at the interview.

While he was absorbed in these reflections, Cecilia--embarrassed by
the silence--was trying to find a topic of conversation. Alban roughly
pushed his sketch-book away from him, on the table. Was he displeased
with Emily? The same question had occurred to Cecilia at the time of the
correspondence, on the subject of Miss Jethro. To recall those letters
led her, by natural sequence, to another effort of memory. She was
reminded of the person who had been the cause of the correspondence: her
interest was revived in the mystery of Miss Jethro.

"Has Emily told you that I have seen your letter?" she asked.

He roused himself with a start. "I beg your pardon. What letter are you
thinking of?"

"I was thinking of the letter which mentions Miss Jethro's strange
visit. Emily was so puzzled and so surprised that she showed it to
me--and we both consulted my father. Have you spoken to Emily about Miss
Jethro?"

"I have tried--but she seemed to be unwilling to pursue the subject."

"Have you made any discoveries since you wrote to Emily?"

"No. The mystery is as impenetrable as ever."

As he replied in those terms, Mirabel entered the conservatory from the
garden, evidently on his way to the drawing-room.

To see the man, whose introduction to Emily it had been Miss Jethro's
mysterious object to prevent--at the very moment when he had been
speaking of Miss Jethro herself--was, not only a temptation of
curiosity, but a direct incentive (in Emily's own interests) to make an
effort at discovery. Alban pursued the conversation with Cecilia, in a
tone which was loud enough to be heard in the conservatory.

"The one chance of getting any information that I can see," he
proceeded, "is to speak to Mr. Mirabel."

"I shall be only too glad, if I can be of any service to Miss Wyvil and
Mr. Morris."

With those obliging words, Mirabel made a dramatic entry, and looked at
Cecilia with his irresistible smile. Startled by his sudden appearance,
she unconsciously assisted Alban's design. Her silence gave him the
opportunity of speaking in her place.

"We were talking," he said quietly to Mirabel, "of a lady with whom you
are acquainted."

"Indeed! May I ask the lady's name?"

"Miss Jethro."

Mirabel sustained the shock with extraordinary self-possession--so far
as any be