CHAPTER XXVI. MOTHER EVE.
The servant received Emily, on her return from the library, with a sly smile. “Here he is again, miss, waiting to see you.”
She opened the parlor door, and revealed Alban Morris, as restless as ever, walking up and down the room.
“When I missed you at the Museum, I was afraid you might be ill,” he said. “Ought I to have gone away, when my anxiety was relieved? Shall I go away now?”
“You must take a chair, Mr. Morris, and hear what I have to say for myself. When you left me after your last visit, I suppose I felt the force of example. At any rate I, like you, had my suspicions. I have been trying to confirm them—and I have failed.”
He paused, with the chair in his hand. “Suspicions of Me?” he asked.
“Certainly! Can you guess how I have been employed for the l
