To the listening Ellen all these sentiments, natural as they might be to a girl of Emma’s exalted temperament and spotless purity of mind, were as speeches made in the Hebrew tongue indeed, within herself she did not hesitate to characterise her friend as “a high-flown little idiot.” But, as she could not quite see what would be the best line to take in answering her, she satisfied herself with shaking her head as though in dissent, and looking sympathetic.
“What torments me most,” went on Emma, who by now was thoroughly worked up—“I can say it to you, for you are a woman and will understand—is the thought that those shameless words might possibly come to your brother’s ears. Three people heard them,—Lady Graves, yourself and my father. Of course I know that neither you nor your mother would betray me, for, as I say, you are women and will feel for me; but, oh! I cannot be sure of my father. I know what he desires; and if he thought that he could advance his object, I am not certain that I could trust him no, although he has promised to be silent: though, indeed, to tell your brother would be the surest way to defeat himself; for, did he learn the truth, such a man would despise me for ever.”
“My dear girl,” said Ellen boldly, for she felt that the situation required courage, “do calm yourself. Of course no one would dream of betraying to Henry what you insist upon calling an indiscretion, but what I thought a very beautiful avowal made under touching circumstances.” Then she paused, and added reflectively, “I only see one danger.”
“What danger?” asked Emma.
“Well, it has to do with that girl—Joan somebody— who brought about all this trouble, and who is nursing Henry, very much against my wish. I happen to have found out that she was listening at the door when Dr. Childs came into the room that night, just before you fainted, and it is impossible to say how long she had been there, and equally impossible to answer for her discretion.”
“Joan Haste—that lovely woman! Of course she heard, and of course she will tell him. I was afraid of her the moment that I saw her, and now I begin to see why, though I believe that this is only the beginning of the evils which she will bring upon me. I am sure of it: I feel it in my heart.”
“I think that you are alarming yourself quite unnecessarily, Emma. It is possible that this girl may repeat anything that she chances to overhear, and it is probable that she will do her best to strike up a flirtation with Henry, if he is foolish enough to allow it; for persons of this kind always avail themselves of such an opportunity—generally with a view to future compensation. But Henry is a cautious individual, who has never been known to commit himself in that fashion, and I don’t see why he should begin now though I do think it would be a good thing if that young lady could be sent about her business. At the worst, however, there would only be some temporary entanglement, such as happens every day, and means nothing serious.”
“Nothing serious? I am sure it would be serious enough if that girl had to do with it: she is not a flirt—she looks too strong and earnest for that kind of thing; and if once she made him fond of her, she would never let him go.”
“Perhaps,” answered Ellen; “but first of all she has to make him fond of her, and I have reasons for knowing, even if she wishes to do this, that she will find it a little difficult.”
“What reasons?” asked Emma.