The next day was Sunday.
Miss Ladd broke through her rule of attending to secular affairs on week days only; and, after consulting with Mrs. Ellmother, arranged with Francine that her servant should be at liberty to leave Netherwoods (health permitting) on the next day. But one difficulty remained. Mrs. Ellmother was in no condition to take the long journey to her birthplace in Cumberland; and her own lodgings in London had been let.
Under these circumstances, what was the best arrangement that could be made for her? Miss Ladd wisely and kindly wrote to Emily on the subject, and asked for a speedy reply.
Later in the day, Alban was sent for to see Mrs. Ellmother. He found her anxiously waiting to hear what had passed, on the previous night, between Miss Ladd and himself. “Were you careful, sir, to say nothing about Miss Emily?”
“I was especially careful; I never alluded to her in any way.”
“Has Miss de Sor spoken to you?”
“I have not given her the opportunity.”
“She’s an obstinate one—she might try.”
“If she does, she shall hear my opinion of her in plain words.” The talk between them turned next on Alban’s discovery of the secret, of which Mrs. Ellmother had believed herself to be the sole depositary since Miss Letitia’s death. Without alarming her by any needless allusion to Doctor Allday or to Miss Jethro, he answered her inquiries (so far as he was himself concerned) without reserve. Her curiosity once satisfied, she showed no disposition to pursue the topic. She pointed to Miss Ladd’s cat, fast asleep by the side of an empty saucer.
“Is it a sin, Mr. Morris, to wish I was Tom? He doesn’t trouble himself about his life that is past or his life that is to come. If I could only empty my saucer and go to sleep, I shouldn’t be thinking of the number of people in this world, like myself, who would be better out of it than in it. Miss Ladd has got me my liberty tomorrow; and I don’t even know where to go, when I leave this place.”