Vibert cared little to hear his brother’s praises. “What is in your tiny paper?” he asked, after he had glanced at his own. “Why, Emmie, you look surprised at what our uncle has written. Tell me, just tell me what lurking mischief the sharp-eyed Mentor has ferreted out in you. Some concealed inclination to commit burglary or manslaughter?”
“I do not quite understand what my uncle means,” said Emmie, gazing thoughtfully upon the little missive which she had opened and read.
“I could explain it—I could make it clear—just let me see what the oracle has written!” cried Vibert, with mirth and curiosity sparkling in his handsome dark eyes. “I’ll tell you in return, Emmie, what he has put in my scrap of paper: Beware of Selfishness. Short but not sweet, and rather unjust. I am thoughtless and gay, I care not who says that much; but as for being selfish, it’s a slander, an ungenerous slander!”
“Perhaps our uncle has again laid his finger on a sensitive spot,” observed Emmie with a smile, but one so gentle that it could not offend.
“I want to know what the fault-finder lays to your charge, what solemn admonition has called up the roses on those fair cheeks!” cried the younger brother; and throwing one arm round Emmie, with his other hand Vibert possessed himself of the paper of the scarcely resisting girl, sharing her surprise as he glanced at the two words written upon it. Those words were—Conquer Mistrust.
“Mistrust of what or of whom?” said Vibert. “The oracle has propounded a kind of enigma: as you are going to take a tête-à-tête drive with the captain, you will have an opportunity of getting an explanation of your paper. As for mine, it goes after Bruce’s—into the fire.” Vibert suited the action to the word.
About half-an-hour afterwards the conveyance which was to take Captain Arrows from Summer Villa was driven up to the door. Emmie was ready, as arranged, to accompany her uncle part of the way. John handed up his luggage to be disposed of on the coach-box. Vibert came to the door to see the guest depart and bid him farewell. “I’ll show him,” said the youth to himself, “that I bear him no grudge for a warning that was not very necessary, and certainly not very polite.”
“Good-bye, captain,” cried Vibert, as he shook hands with his uncle; “come to Myst Court next spring, and you and I will make a raid on the haunted chamber.”
“Where is Bruce? I have not wished him good-bye,” said the captain, pausing when he was about to hand his niece into the carriage.
“Bruce!” called the clear voice of Emmie, as she ran back to the bottom of the staircase to let her brother know that the guest was on the point of departing.