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  CHAPTER XXVII. MENTOR AND TELEMACHUS.

  If Emily's eyes could have followed Alban as her thoughts were followinghim, she would have seen him stop before he reached the end of the roadin which the cottage stood. His heart was full of tenderness and sorrow:the longing to return to her was more than he could resist. It would beeasy to wait, within view of the gate, until the doctor's visit cameto an end. He had just decided to go back and keep watch--when he heardrapid footsteps approaching. There (devil take him!) was the doctorhimself.

  "I have something to say to you, Mr. Morris. Which way are you walking?"

  "Any way," Alban answered--not very graciously.

  "Then let us take the turning that leads to my house. It's not customaryfor strangers, especially when they happen to be Englishmen, to placeconfidence in each other. Let me set the example of violating that rule.I want to speak to you about Miss Emily. May I take your arm? Thankyou. At my age, girls in general--unless they are my patients--are notobjects of interest to me. But that girl at the cottage--I daresay Iam in my dotage--I tell you, sir, she has bewitched me! Upon my soul, Icould hardly be more anxious about her, if I was her father. And, mind,I am not an affectionate man by nature. Are you anxious about her too?"

  "Yes."

  "In what way?"

  "In what way are you anxious, Doctor Allday?"

  The doctor smiled grimly.

  "You don't trust me? Well, I have promised to set the example. Keep yourmask on, sir--mine is off, come what may of it. But, observe: if yourepeat what I am going to say--"

  Alban would hear no more. "Whatever you may say, Doctor Allday, istrusted to my honor. If you doubt my honor, be so good as to let go myarm--I am not walking your way."

  The doctor's hand tightened its grasp. "That little flourish of temper,my dear sir, is all I want to set me at my ease. I feel I have got holdof the right man. Now answer me this. Have you ever heard of a personnamed Miss Jethro?"

  Alban suddenly came to a standstill.

  "All right!" said the doctor. "I couldn't have wished for a moresatisfactory reply."

  "Wait a minute," Alban interposed. "I know Miss Jethro as a teacherat Miss Ladd's school, who left her situation suddenly--and I know nomore."

  The doctor's peculiar smile made its appearance again.

  "Speaking in the vulgar tone," he said, "you seem to be in a hurry towash your hands of Miss Jethro."

  "I have no reason to feel any interest in her," Alban replied.

  "Don't be too sure of that, my friend. I have something to tell youwhich may alter your opinion. That ex-teacher at the school, sir, knowshow the late Mr. Brown met his death, and how his daughter has beendeceived about it."

  Alban listened with surprise--and with some little doubt, which hethought it wise not to acknowledge.

  "The report of the inquest alludes to a 'relative' who claimed thebody," he said. "Was that 'relative' the person who deceived Miss Emily?And was the person her aunt?"

  "I must leave you to take your own view," Doctor Allday replied. "Apromise binds me not to repeat the information that I have received.Setting that aside, we have the same object in view--and we must takecare not to get in each other's way. Here is my house. Let us go in, andmake a clean breast of it on both sides."

  Established in the safe seclusion of his study, the doctor set theexample of confession in these plain terms:

  "We only differ in opinion on one point," he said. "We both think itlikely (from our experience of the women) that the suspected murdererhad an accomplice. I say the guilty person is Miss Jethro. You say--Mrs.Rook."

  "When you have read my copy of the report," Alban answered, "I think youwill arrive at my conclusion. Mrs. Rook might have entered the outhousein which the two men slept, at any time during the night, while herhusband was asleep. The jury believed her when she declared that shenever woke till the morning. I don't."

  "I am open to conviction, Mr. Morris. Now about the future. Do you meanto go on with your inquiries?"

  "Even if I had no other motive than mere curiosity," Alban answered, "Ithink I should go on. But I have a more urgent purpose in view. All thatI have done thus far, has been done in Emily's interests. My object,from the first, has been to preserve her from any association--inthe past or in the future--with the woman whom I believe to have beenconcerned in her father's death. As I have already told you, she isinnocently doing all she can, poor thing, to put obstacles in my way."

  "Yes, yes," said the doctor; "she means to write to Mrs. Rook--and youhave nearly quarreled about it. Trust me to take that matter in hand.I don't regard it as serious. But I am mortally afraid of what you aredoing in Emily's interests. I wish you would give it up."

  "Why?"

  "Because I see a danger. I don't deny that Emily is as innocent ofsuspicion as ever. But the chances, next time, may be against us. Howdo you know to what lengths your curiosity may lead you? Or on whatshocking discoveries you may not blunder with the best intentions?Some unforeseen accident may open her eyes to the truth, before you canprevent it. I seem to surprise you?"

  "You do, indeed, surprise me."

  "In the old story, my dear sir, Mentor sometimes surprised Telemachus.I am Mentor--without being, I hope, quite so long-winded as thatrespectable philosopher. Let me put it in two words. Emily's happinessis precious to you. Take care you are not made the means of wrecking it!Will you consent to a sacrifice, for her sake?"

  "I will do anything for her sake."

  "Will you give up your inquiries?"

  "From this moment I have done with them!"

  "Mr. Morris, you are the best friend she has."

  "The next best friend to you, doctor."

  In that fond persuasion they now parted--too eagerly devoted to Emilyto look at the prospect before them in its least hopeful aspect.Both clever men, neither one nor the other asked himself if any humanresistance has ever yet obstructed the progress of truth--when truth hasonce begun to force its way to the light.

  For the second time Alban stopped, on his way home. The longing tobe reconciled with Emily was not to be resisted. He returned to thecottage, only to find disappointment waiting for him. The servantreported that her young mistress had gone to bed with a bad headache.

  Alban waited a day, in the hope that Emily might write to him. No letterarrived. He repeated his visit the next morning. Fortune was stillagainst him. On this occasion, Emily was engaged.

  "Engaged with a visitor?" he asked.

  "Yes, sir. A young lady named Miss de Sor."

  Where had he heard that name before? He remembered immediately that hehad heard it at the school. Miss de Sor was the unattractive new pupil,whom the girls called Francine. Alban looked at the parlor window ashe left the cottage. It was of serious importance that he should sethimself right with Emily. "And mere gossip," he thought contemptuously,"stands in my way!"

  If he had been less absorbed in his own interests, he might haveremembered that mere gossip is not always to be despised. It has workedfatal mischief in its time.