Emily listened to him in bewilderment.
“You talk as if I was sure of your help in the future,” she said. “Have you forgotten that I leave school to-day, never to return? In half an hour more, I shall be condemned to a long journey in the company of that horrible creature—with a life to look forward to, in the same house with her, among strangers! A miserable prospect, and a hard trial of a girl’s courage—is it not, Mr. Morris?”
“You will at least have one person, Miss Emily, who will try with all his heart and soul to encourage you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Alban, quietly, “that the Midsummer vacation begins to-day; and that the drawing-master is going to spend his holidays in the North.”
Emily jumped up from her chair. “You!” she exclaimed. “You are going to Northumberland? With me?”
“Why not?” Alban asked. “The railway is open to all travelers alike, if they have money enough to buy a ticket.”
“Mr. Morris! what can you be thinking of? Indeed, indeed, I am not ungrateful. I know you mean kindly—you are a good, generous man. But do remember how completely a girl, in my position, is at the mercy of appearances. You, traveling in the same carriage with me! and that woman putting her own vile interpretation on it, and degrading me in Sir Jervis Redwood’s estimation, on the day when I enter his house! Oh, it’s worse than thoughtless—it’s madness, downright madness.”
“You are quite right,” Alban gravely agreed, “it is madness. I lost whatever little reason I once possessed, Miss Emily, on the day when I first met you out walking with the young ladies of the school.”
Emily turned away in significant silence. Alban followed her.