"She ought not to have come," murmured Dr. Rane in Jelly's ear. "Go and ask Seeley to step over--whilst I get my mother upstairs."
There was bustle and confusion for the moment. Mrs. Cumberland was placed in the easy-chair in her room, and her bonnet and travelling wraps were removed. She refused to go to bed. In half-an-hour or so, when she had somewhat recovered the fatigue, she looked and seemed much better, and spoke a little, expressing a wish for some tea. The doctors left her to take it, enjoining strict quiet. Jelly was near her mistress, holding the cup and saucer.
"What did she die of, Jelly?" came the unexpected question.
"Who?" asked Jelly, wonderingly.
Mrs. Cumberland motioned in the direction of her son's house: and her voice was subdued to faintness: "Bessy Rane."
Jelly gave a start that almost upset the teacup. She felt her face grow white; but she could not move to conceal it.
"Why don't you reply? What did she die of?"
"Ma'am, don't you know? She caught the fever."
"It troubles me, Jelly; it troubles me. I've done nothing but dream about her ever since. And what will Oliver do without her?"
The best he can, Jelly had a great mind to answer. But all she said, was, to beg her mistress to leave these questions until the morning.