The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [1434]
In this conclusion, and in this only, was to be found the rational explanation of Mrs. Ellmother's choice--placed between the alternatives of submitting to discovery by Emily, or of leaving the house.
Poor Miss Letitia's writing-table stood near the window of the sitting-room. Shrinking from the further pursuit of thoughts which might end in disposing her mind to distrust of her dying aunt, Emily looked round in search of some employment sufficiently interesting to absorb her attention. The writing-table reminded her that she owed a letter to Cecilia. That helpful friend had surely the first claim to know why she had failed to keep her engagement with Sir Jervis Redwood.
After mentioning the telegram which had followed Mrs. Rook's arrival at the school, Emily's letter proceeded in these terms:
"As soon as I had in some degree recovered myself, I informed Mrs. Rook of my aunt's serious illness.
"Although she carefully confined herself to commonplace expressions of sympathy, I could see that it was equally a relief to both of us to feel that we were prevented from being traveling companions. Don't suppose that I have taken a capricious dislike to Mrs. Rook--or that you are in any way to blame for the unfavorable impression which she has produced on me. I will make this plain when we meet. In the meanwhile, I need only tell you that I gave her a letter of explanation to present to Sir Jervis Redwood. I also informed him of my address in London: adding a request that he would forward your letter, in case you have written to me before you receive these lines.
"Kind Mr. Alban Morris accompanied me to the railway-station, and arranged with the guard to take special care of me on the journey to London. We used to think him rather a heartless man. We were quite wrong. I don't know what his plans are for spending the summer holidays. Go where he may, I remember his kindness; my best wishes go with him.
"My dear, I must not sadden your enjoyment of your pleasant visit to the Engadine, by writing at any length of the sorrow that I am suffering. You know how I love my aunt, and how gratefully I have always felt her motherly goodness to me. The doctor does not conceal the truth. At her age, there is no hope: my father's last-left relation, my one dearest friend, is dying.
"No! I must not forget that I have another friend--I must find some comfort in thinking of you.
"I do so long in my solitude for a letter from my dear Cecilia. Nobody comes to see me, when I most want sympathy; I am a stranger in this vast city. The members of my mother's family are settled in Australia: they have not even written to me, in all the long years that have passed since her death. You remember how cheerfully I used to look forward to my new life, on leaving school? Good-by, my darling. While I can see your sweet face, in my thoughts, I don't despair--dark as it looks now--of the future that is before me."
Emily had closed and addressed her letter, and was just rising from her chair, when she heard the voice of the new nurse at the door.
CHAPTER XV
EMILY.
"May I say a word?" Mrs. Mosey inquired. She entered the room--pale and trembling. Seeing that ominous change, Emily dropped back into her chair.
"Dead?" she said faintly.
Mrs. Mosey looked at her in vacant surprise.
"I wish to say, miss, that your aunt has frightened me."
Even that vague allusion was enough for Emily.
"You need say no more," she replied. "I know but too well how my aunt's mind is affected by the fever."
Confused and frightened as she was, Mrs. Mosey still found relief in her customary flow of words.
"Many and many a person have I nursed in fever," she announced. "Many and many a person have I heard say strange things. Never yet, miss, in all my experience--!"
"Don't tell me of it!" Emily interposed.
"Oh, but I must tell you! In your own interests,