“You!” Mrs. Ellmother exclaimed, “_you_ say that!” “I say it. He--who won on me to like him--he was in the conspiracy to deceive me; and you know it! He heard me talk of the newspaper story of the murder of my father--I say, he heard me talk of it composedly, talk of it carelessly, in the innocent belief that it was the murder of a stranger--and he never opened his lips to prevent that horrid profanation! He never even said, speak of something else; I won’t hear you! No more of him! God forbid I should ever see him again. No! Do what I told you. Carry your mind back to Netherwoods. One night you let Francine de Sor frighten you. You ran away from her into the garden. Keep quiet! At your age, must I set you an example of self-control?” “I want to know, Miss Emily, where Francine de Sor is now?” “She is at the house in the country, which I have left.” “Where does she go next, if you please? Back to Miss Ladd?” “I suppose so. What interest have you in knowing where she goes next?” “I won’t interrupt you, miss. It’s true that I ran away into the garden. I can guess who followed me. How did she find her way to me and Mr. Morris, in the dark?” “The smell of tobacco guided her--she knew who smoked--she had seen him talking to you, on that very day--she followed the scent--she heard what you two said to each other--and she has repeated it to me. Oh, my old friend, the malice of a revengeful girl has enlightened me, when you, my nurse--and he, my lover--left me in the dark: it has told me how my father died!” “That’s said bitterly, miss!” “Is it said truly?” “No. It isn’t said truly of myself. God knows you would never have been kept in the dark, if your aunt had listened to me. I begged and prayed--I went down on my knees to her--I warned her, as I told you just now. Must I tell _you_ what a headstrong woman Miss Letitia was? She insisted. She put the choice before me of leaving her at once and forever--or giving in. I wouldn’t have given in to any other creature on the face of this earth. I am obstinate, as you have often told me. Well, your aunt’s obstinacy beat mine; I was too fond of her to say No. Besides, if you ask me who was to blame in the first place, I tell you it wasn’t your aunt; she was frightened into it.” “Who frightened her?” “Your godfather--the great London surgeon--he who was visiting in our house at the time.” “Sir Richard?” “Yes--Sir Richard. He said he wouldn’t answer for the consequences, in the delicate state of your health, if we told you the truth. Ah, he had it all his own way after that. He went with Miss Letitia to the inquest; he won over the coroner and the newspaper men to his will; he kept your aunt’s name out of the papers; he took charge of the coffin; he hired the undertaker and his men, strangers from London; he wrote the certificate--who but he! Everybody was cap in hand to the famous man!” “Surely, the servants and the neighbors asked questions?”