Bessy Rane: A Novel

by Mrs. Henry Wood

"I know I thought it so," said Mrs. Gass.

"It was more than hard," spoke the doctor passionately. "I used to say to my wife that if I could get it out of the old trustees' hands by force, or stratagem, I should think it no shame to do it. Idle talk! never meant to be anything else. But to get on. The fever broke out in Dallory, and Bessy was taken ill. She thought it was the fever, and so did I. I had fancied her a little afraid of it, and was in my heart secretly thankful to Mr. North for inviting her to the Hall. But for putting off her visit for a day--through the absence of Molly Green--what happened later could never have taken place."

Dr. Rane paused, as if considering how he should go on with his story. After a moment he resumed it, looking straight at them, as he had been looking all along.

"I wish you to understand that every word I am telling you--and shall tell you--is the strict truth. The truth, upon my honour, and before Heaven. And yet, perhaps, even after this, you will scarcely credit me when I say--that I did believe my wife's illness was the fever. All that first day--she had been taken ill during the night with sickness and shivering--I thought it was the fever. Seeley thought it also. She was in a very high state of feverishness, and no doubt fear for her served somewhat to bias our judgment. Bessy herself said it was the fever, and would not hear a word to the contrary. But at night--the first night, remember--she had nearly an hour of sickness; and was so relieved by it, and grew so cool and collected, that I detected the nature of the case. It was nothing but a bad bilious attack, accompanied by an unusual degree of fever; but it was not the fever. 'You have cheated me, my darling,' I said jestingly, as I kissed her, 'I shall not get the tontine money.'--Here she stands by my side to confirm it," broke off Dr. Rane, but indeed they could all see he was relating the simple truth. "'Can you not pretend that I am dead?' she answered faintly, for she was still exceedingly ill; 'I will go away, and you can say I died.' Now, of course Bessy spoke jestingly, as I had done: nevertheless the words led to what afterwards took place. I proposed it--do not lay the blame on Bessy--that she really should go away, and I should give it out that she had died."

A slight groan from the region of the bed. Dr. Rane continued.

"It seemed very easy of accomplishment--very. But had I foreseen all the disagreeable proceedings, the artifice, the trouble, that must inevitably attend such an attempted deceit, I should never have entered upon it. Had I properly reflected, I might of course have foreseen it: but I did not reflect. Nearly all that night Bessy and I conversed together: chiefly planning how she should get away and where she should stay. By morning, what with the fatigue induced by this prolonged vigil, and the exhaustion left by her illness, she was thoroughly worn out. It had been agreed between us that she should simulate weariness and a desire to sleep, the better to avert a discovery of her restoration; but there was no need for simulation; she was both sleepy and exhausted."

"I never was so sleepy before in all my life," interrupted Bessy.

"The day went on. At ten o'clock, when Phillis left, I went up to my wife's room, and told her the time for acting had come," pursued Dr. Rane. "Next I crossed over to Seeley's with the news that my wife was gone: and I strove to exhibit the grief I should have felt had it been true. Crossing to my home again, I saw Frank Dallory, and told him. 'The play has begun,' I said to Bossy when I went in--and then I went forth to Mr. North's; and then on to Hepburn's. Do you remember, sir, how I tried to soothe your grief?--speaking persistently of hope--though of course you could not see that any hope remained," asked Dr. Rane, turning to Mr. North. "I dared not speak more plainly, though I longed to do so."

"Ay, I remember," answered Mr. North.

"The worst part of all the business was the next; bringing in the shell," continued the doctor. "Worse, because I had a horror of my wife seeing it. I contrived that she did not see it. Hepburn's men brought it up to the ante-room: Bessy was still in bed in the front-room, and heard them: I could not help that. When they left, I put it down by the wall with the trestles, threw some coats carelessly upon it, and so hid it out of sight. It was time then for Bessy to get up. Whilst she was dressing, I went round to the stables, where the horse and gig I use are kept, to make sure that the ostler had gone to bed--for he had a habit sometimes of sitting up late. It was during this absence of mine that Bessy went to the landing to listen whether or not I had come in. The chamber-door was open, so that light shone on to the landing. It happened to be at that moment that Jelly was at the opposite window, and--later--thought it was Mrs. Rane's ghost that she had seen."