Although they may hesitate to acknowledge it, there are respectable Englishmen still left, who regard a felt hat and a beard as symbols of republican disaffection to the altar and the throne. Doctor Allday’s manner might have expressed this curious form of patriotic feeling, but for the associations which Emily had revived. In his present frame of mind, he was outwardly courteous, because he was inwardly suspicious. Mrs. Rook had been described to him as formerly landlady of the inn at Zeeland. Were there reasons for Mr. Morris’s hostile feeling toward this woman which might be referable to the crime committed in her house that might threaten Emily’s tranquillity if they were made known? It would not be amiss to see a little more of Mr. Morris, on the first convenient occasion. “I am glad to make your acquaintance, sir.” “You are very kind, Doctor Allday.” The exchange of polite conventionalities having been accomplished, Alban approached Emily to take his leave, with mingled feelings of regret and anxiety--regret for having allowed himself to speak harshly; anxiety to part with her in kindness. “Will you forgive me for differing from you?” It was all he could venture to say, in the presence of a stranger. “Oh, yes!” she said quietly. “Will you think again, before you decide?” “Certainly, Mr. Morris. But it won’t alter my opinion, if I do.” The doctor, hearing what passed between them, frowned. On what subject had they been differing? And what opinion did Emily decline to alter? Alban gave it up. He took her hand gently. “Shall I see you at the Museum, to-morrow?” he asked. She was politely indifferent to the last. “Yes--unless something happens to keep me at home.” The doctor’s eyebrows still expressed disapproval. For what object was the meeting proposed? And why at a museum? “Good-afternoon, Doctor Allday.” “Good-afternoon, sir.” For a moment after Alban’s departure, the doctor stood irresolute. Arriving suddenly at a decision, he snatched up his hat, and turned to Emily in a hurry. “I bring you news, my dear, which will surprise you. Who do you think has just left my house? Mrs. Ellmother! Don’t interrupt me. She has made up her mind to go out to service again. Tired of leading an idle life--that’s her own account of it--and asks me to act as her reference.” “Did you consent?” “Consent! If I act as her reference, I shall be asked how she came to leave her last place. A nice dilemma! Either I must own that she deserted her mistress on her deathbed--or tell a lie. When I put it to her in that way, she walked out of the house in dead silence. If she applies to you next, receive her as I did--or decline to see her, which would be better still.” “Why am I to decline to see her?” “In consequence of her behavior to your aunt, to be sure! No: I have said all I wanted to say--and I have no time to spare for answering idle questions. Good-by.”