"But what did Mrs. Linchmore's husband say?"
"He and his wife had fine words about it, Miss, and he went off soon after and left her for good. But there worse than that happened; for his poor mother, her as adopted Miss Mary—that was the poor young lady's name, Miss—broke her heart about it all, and died. She was a nice, good old lady, and very fond of Miss Mary, and on her death-bed she told my mother she died believing the young lady innocent; and no one was ever to believe anything else until they saw Miss Mary again, and then all wou'd come right, and everybody hear the truth. But there, we never did hear the truth, for we never saw Miss Mary again; so it was just as well the old lady was took when she was, and went so happy and peaceful."
"But her daughter-in-law, your old mistress, what became of her? I think she died suddenly, did she not?"
"Very, Miss Neville. She would have no one but Tabitha to wait on her when she was ill; but none of us cared much about that; and they used to abuse one another terrible sometimes. It was a long time before she'd see the doctor, and then she wouldn't take his medicine; we found all the bottles ranged like a regiment of soldiers in the cupboard after she died—not even the corks out of them, or a drop of medicine taken. When she got worse she wouldn't lay in the bed, but had the mattress moved off on to the floor. She died that very night quite sudden, for none of us thought her so bad as that, not even the doctor; but there, he was quite a young man, and I mind well his coming in the morning. She hadn't been so well the evening before, so he came quite early, as I was cleaning down the hall. I went upstairs with him, and knocked twice at my mistress's door, but nobody answered; so the doctor opened it, and went in, and I followed, terribly frightened, but so curious like, I couldn't keep back anyhow."
Nurse paused, and then sunk her voice almost to a whisper as she went on,
"Oh! what a terrible sight we saw. My mistress was quite dead; one of her hands clutching the bed clothes, the other thrown above her head, and closed so tight, it looked as though the nails were buried in the flesh. Her eyes were wide open, and a frightful look her face had, as though she had died in torments.—She was an awful corpse;" and Nurse shuddered, and her hands trembled as she stirred up the fire.
"But where was Tabitha? How was it she had not called for anyone?"
"She was lying by the side of the bed on the floor, and at first I thought she was dead, too; but she came to life again when we carried her into the open air, and a scared look she had when she opened her eyes; but it was weeks before she got well again, and then she left, and none of us felt sorry, I can tell you."
"Did she give you no account of the lady's death?"