with the same rapidity that the sickness had appeared, so did it subside in dallory. mrs. rane's was the last serious case: the last death; the very few cases afterwards were of the mildest description; and within a fortnight of the time that ill-fated lady was laid in the ground, people were restoring their houses and throwing their rooms open to the renewed air.

the inhabitants in general, rallying their courage, thought the sooner they forgot the episode the better. excepting perhaps by the inmates of those houses from which some one had been taken, they did soon forget it. it was surprising--now that fear was at an end and matters could be summed up dispassionately--how few the losses were. with the exception of henry hepburn the undertaker and mrs. rane, they were entirely amongst the poor working people out on strike, and, even here, were principally amongst the children. mrs. gass told men to their faces that the fever had come of nothing but famine and poverty, and that they had only themselves to thank for it. she was in the habit, as the reader knows, of dealing some home truths out to them: but she had dealt out something else during the sickness, and that was wholesome food. she continued to do so still to those who had been weakened by it: but she gave them due warning that it was only temporary help, which, but for the fever, they would never have received from her. and so the visitation grew into a thing of the past, and dallory was itself again.

one, there was, however, who could not forget: with whom that unhappy past was present night and day. jelly. that dr. rane had in some way wilfully caused the death of his wife, jelly was as sure of as though she had seen it done. her suspicion pointed to laudanum; or to some equally fatal preparation. suspicion? nay, with her it had become a certainty. in that last day of bessy rane's life, when she was described as sleeping, sleeping, always sleeping; when her sole cry had been--"i am easy, only let me sleep," jelly now felt that dr. rane knew she had been quietly sleeping away to death. unerringly as though it had been written with the pen of truth, lay the conviction upon her heart. about that, there could be neither doubt nor hesitation: the difficulty was--what ought to be her own course in the matter?

in all jelly's past life she had never been actually superstitious; if told that she was so now, she would have replied that it was because circumstances had forced it upon her. that mrs. rane's spirit had appeared to her that memorable night for one sole purpose--that she, jelly, should avenge her dreadful end by publicly disclosing it, jelly believed as implicitly as she believed in the gospel. not a soul in the whole wide world but herself (saving of course dr. rane) had the faintest idea that the death was not a natural one. jelly moaned and groaned, and thought her fate unjustly hard that she should have been signalled out by heaven--for so she solemnly put it--for the revelation, when there were so many others in the community of dallory who might have done it better than herself. jelly had periods of despondency, when she did not quite know whether her head was on or off, or whether her mind wouldn't "go." why couldn't the ghost have appeared to some one else, she would mentally ask at these moments: to phillis, say; or to dinah; or to seeley the surgeon? just because she had been performing an act of charity in sitting up with keller's sick child, it must show itself to her! and then jelly's brain would go off into problems, that it might have puzzled one wiser than she to answer. supposing she had not been at ketler's that night, the staircase blind would have been drawn at dusk as usual, she would have gone to bed at her ordinary hour, have seen, nothing, and been spared all this misery. but no. it was not to be. and although jelly, in her temper, might wish to throw the blame on ketler for staying out, and on dinah for her negligence, she recognized the finger of destiny in all this, and knew she could not have turned aside from it.

what was she to do? living in constant dread of again seeing the apparition, feeling a certainty within herself that she should see it, jelly pondered the question every hour of the day. things could not rest as they were. on the one hand, there was her natural repugnance to denounce dr. rane: just as there had been in the case of the anonymous letter: not only because she was in the service of his mother, but for his own sake; for jelly, with all her faults, as to gossip and curiosity, had by no means a bad heart. on the other hand, there was the weighty secret revealed to her by the departed woman, and the obligation laid upon her in consequence. yet--how could she speak?--when the faintest breath of such an accusation against her son, would assuredly kill mrs. cumberland in her present critical state! and to jelly she was a good and kind mistress. no, she could never do it. with all this conflict going on within her, no wonder jelly fell away: she had been thin enough before, she was like a veritable skeleton now. as to the revelation to mrs. gass, jelly might just as well have made it to the moon. for that lady, after the first shock had passed, absolutely refused to put any faith in the tale: and had appeared ever since, by her manner, to ignore it as completely as though it had never been uttered.

gradually jelly grew disturbed by another fear: might she not be taken up as an accomplice after the fact? she was sure she had heard of such cases: and she tormented tim wilks almost out of patience--that gentleman having recovered from his temporary indisposition--by asking endless questions as to what the law might do to a person who found out that another had committed some crime, and kept back the knowledge: say stolen a purse, for instance, and appropriated the money.

one night, when jelly, by some fortunate chance, had really got to sleep early--for she more often lay awake until morning--a ring at the door-bell suddenly roused her. mrs. cumberland had caused a night-bell to be put to the door: in case of fire, she had said. it hung on this first landing, not very far from jelly's head, and it awoke her instantly. dinah, sleeping above, might have heard it just as well as jelly; but dinah was a sound sleeper, and the bell, as jelly knew, might ring for an hour before it awoke her. however, jelly lay still, not caring to get up herself, hoping against hope, and wondering who in the world could be ringing, unless it was some one mistaking their house for dr. rane's. such a thing had happened before.

ring; ring; ring. not a loud ring by any means; but a gentle peal, as if the applicant did it reluctantly. jelly lay on. she was not afraid that it was connected with the sight she was always in dread of again seeing, since ghosts are not in the habit of ringing to announce their visits. in fact, surprise, and speculating as to who it could be, put all fear for the time being out of jelly's head.

ring; ring; ring. rather a louder peal this time, as if a little impatience now mingled with the reluctance.

flinging on a warm shawl, and putting her feet into her shoes, jelly proceeded to the front-room--mrs. cumberland's chamber when she was at homo--threw up the window, and called to know who was there. a little man, stepping back from the door into the bright moonlight, looked up to answer--and jelly recognized the form and voice of ketler.

"it's me," said he.

"you!" interrupted jelly, not allowing the man to continue. "what on earth do you want here at this hour?"

"i came to tell you the news about poor cissy. she's dead."

"couldn't it wait?" tartly returned jelly, overlooking the sad nature of the tidings in her anger at having been disturbed. "would it have run away, that you must come and knock folks up to tell it, as if you'd been the telegraph?"

"it was my wife made me come," spoke ketler, with much humility. "she's in a peck o' grief, jelly, and nothing would do but i must come right off and tell you; she thought, mayhap, you'd not be gone to bed."

"not gone to bed at midnight!" retorted jelly. "and there it is, striking: if you've any ears to hear. you must be a fool, ketler."

"well, i'm sorry to have disturbed you," said the man, with a sigh. "i wouldn't have done it myself; but poor susan was taking on so, i couldn't deny her. we was all so fond of the child; and--and----"

ketler broke down. the man had loved his child: and he was weak and faint with hunger. it a little appeased jelly.

"i suppose you don't expect me to dress myself and come off to susan at this hour?" she exclaimed, her tone, however, not quite so sharp as it had been.

"law, bless you, no," answered ketler. "what good would that do? it couldn't bring cissy back to life again."

"ketler, it's just this--instead of being upset with grief, you and susan might be thankful the child's taken out of the trouble of this world. she won't be crying for food where she's gone, and find none."

the man's grief was renewed at the last suggestion. but jelly had really meant it in the light of consolation.

"she was your god-child, jelly."

"you needn't tell me that," answered jelly. "could i have saved her life at any trouble or cost, i would have done it. if i had a home of my own i'd have taken her to it, but i'm only in service, as you know. ketler, it is the strike that has killed that child."

ketler was silent.

"cissy was a weakly child and required extra comforts; as long as you were in work she had them, but when that dropped off, of course the child suffered. and now she's gone. she is better off, ketler."

"yes," assented the man as if he were heartbroken. "if it wasn't for the thought of the rest, i should wish it was me that was gone instead."

"well, give my love to susan and say i'm sorry for it altogether, and i'll come down some time in the morning. and, look here, ketler--what about the money for the burial? you've nothing towards it, i expect."

"not a penny," moaned ketler.

"well, i know you wouldn't like the poor little thing to be buried by the parish, so i'll see what's to be done, tell susan. goodnight."

jelly shut down the window sharply. she really looked upon the strike as having led to the child's death--and remotely possibly it had done so; so what with that, and the untimely disturbance, her anger was somewhat excusable.

in passing across the landing to her own chamber, the large window became suddenly illuminated. jelly stopped. her heart, as she would herself have expressed it, leaped into her mouth. the light came from the outside; no doubt from dr. rane's. jelly stood motionless. and then--what desperate courage impelled her she never knew, but believed afterwards it must have been something akin to the fascination of the basilisk--she advanced to the window, and drew aside the white blind.

but she did not see bessy rane this time, as perhaps she had expected; only her husband. dr. rane had a candle in his hand, and was apparently picking up something he had dropped quite close to his own window. in another moment he lodged the candle on a chair that stood there, so as to have both hands at liberty. jelly watched. what he had dropped appeared to be several articles of his deceased wife's clothing, some of which had unfolded in the fall. he soon had them within his arm again, caught up the candle, and went downstairs. jelly saw and recognized one beautiful indian shawl, which had been a present from her own mistress to bessy.

"he is going to pack them up and sell them, the wicked man!" spoke jelly in her conviction. and her ire grew very great against dr. rane. "i'd almost rather have seen the spirit of his poor wife again than this," was her comment, as she finally went into her room.

putting aside all the solemn doubts and fears that were making havoc with jelly's mind, her curiosity was insatiable. perhaps no woman in all dallory had so great a propensity for prying into other people's affairs as she. not, it must be again acknowledged, to harm them, but simply to gratify her inquisitiveness.

on the following morning, when jelly attired herself to go to ketler's after breakfast--the meal being seasoned throughout with reproaches to dinah for not hearing the night-bell--she bethought herself that she would first of all step into the next door. ostensibly with the neighbourly object of informing phillis of the death of the child; really, to pick up any items of information that might be floating about. dr. rane, it may be here remarked, had given molly green a character to get herself another situation, preferring to retain the elder servant, phillis, who, however, only went to him by day. the doctor was alone in his house at night, and jelly believed he dared not have even old phillis in, knowing it was haunted. he made no secret now of his intention of quitting dallory. as soon as his practice should be disposed of, and the tontine money paid over to him, away he would go.

jelly coolly walked out of the window of mrs. cumberland's dining-room, and through that of the doctor's. she had seen him go out some little time before. phillis was upstairs, putting her master's chamber to rights, and jelly sought her there. she described the fright ketler had given her by coming at midnight to bring the news about cissy; and phillis, whose heart was tender, dropped a tear or two to the child's memory. cissy had been loved by every one.

"miss dallory will be sorry to hear this when she comes back," remarked phillis.

"i say, phillis, what does your master mean to do with mrs. rane's clothes?" abruptly asked jelly.

phillis, dusting the looking-glass at the moment, paused in her occupation, as if considering.

"i'm sure i don't know, jelly, he pointed out a few of the plain things to me one day, and said i might divide them between myself and molly green, but that he wouldn't like to see us wear them till he was gone away. as of course we shouldn't, being in black for her."

"she had lots of beautiful clothes. i'm sure the shawls, and scarfs, and embroidered robes, and worked petticoats, and other valuable indian things that my mistress was always giving her, would have set up any lady's wardrobe. what will he do with them?"

phillis shook her head, and pointed to a high chest of drawers. her heart was full yet when she spoke of her late mistress.

"they are all in there, jelly."

are they, thought jelly. but phillis was going down now, her occupation ended. jelly lingered behind, and put her black bonnet out at the window, as if looking at something up the road. when phillis had descended the stairs, jelly tried the drawers. all were locked except one. that one, which jelly softly drew open, was filled with articles belonging to the late mrs. rane; none of them, as far as jelly could gather by the cursory glance, of much value.

"yes," she said bitterly. "he keeps these open for show, but he is sending away the best. those other drawers, if they could be looked into, are empty."

if ever jelly had been startled in all her life at human footstep, it was to hear that of dr. rane on the stairs. how she closed the drawer, how she got her bonnet stretched out at the window again as far as it would stretch, she hardly knew. the doctor came in. jelly, bringing in her head, apparently as much surprised as if a rhinoceros had walked into the room, apologized and explained rather lamely. she supposed phillis must have gone down, she said, while she was watching that impudent butcher's boy; she had made bold to step up to tell phillis about ketler's little girl.

"ah, she is gone," observed dr. rane, as jelly was walking out. "there has been no hope of her for some time."

"no, sir, i know there hasn't," replied jelly, somewhat recovering her equanimity. "i told ketler that he may thank the strike for it."

jelly got out with this, and was passing through the grey room, when the doctor spoke again.

"have you heard from your mistress this morning, jelly?"

"no, sir."

"well, i have. i am very much afraid that she is exceedingly ill, jelly?"

"dinah had a letter from ann a day or two ago, sir; she said that her missis was looking worse, and seemed lower than she had ever known her."

"ay, i wish she would come home. eastsea is far away, and i cannot be running there everlastingly," added the doctor, as he closed the chamber-door in jelly's face.