"I knew that Phœbe had passed out of this sphere," replied Miss Dane. "Keziah learned it from the purveyor."
She paused a moment, and then added, "Phœbe was with me last night."
"Was she?" said Mrs. Tree, grimly. "I'm sorry to hear it. Phœbe was a good woman, if she did have her faults."
"You may be glad to hear that she is in a blessed state at present," the cold monotone went on. "She came with my sisters Sophia and Persis; Timothea was also with them, and inquired for you."
"H'm!" said Mrs. Tree.
"I have no wish to rouse your animosity, Marcia," continued Miss Dane, after another pause, "and I am well aware of your condition of hardened unbelief; but we are not likely to meet again in this sphere, and since you have sought me out in my retirement, I feel bound to tell you, that I have received several visits of late from your husband, and that he is more than ever concerned about your spiritual welfare. If you wish it, I will repeat to you what he said."
The years fell away from Marcia Darracott like a cloak. She made two quick steps forward, her little hands clenched, her tiny figure towering like a flame.
"You dare—" she said, then stopped abruptly. The blaze died down, and the twinkle came instead into her bright eyes. She laughed her little rustling laugh, and turned to go. "Good-by, Jinny," she said; "you don't mean to be funny, but you are. Ethan Tree is in heaven; but if you think he would come back from the pit to see you—te hee! Good-by, Jinny Dane!"
Mrs. Tree sat bolt upright again all the way home, and chuckled several times.
"Now, that woman's jealousy is such," she said, aloud, "that, rather than have me do for her niece, she'll leave her half her fortune and die next week, just to spite me." (In point of fact, this prophecy came almost literally to pass, not a week, but a month later.)