ee you a doing of that, Miss Eleanor," she exclaimed.

"Hush, Jane! Eat your grapes."

"You've a kind heart," said the girl sighing; "and it's good when them
that has the power has the feelings."

"How are your nights now, Jane?"

"They're tedious--I lie awake so; and then I get coughing. I am always
so glad to see the light come in the mornings! but it's long a coming
now. I can't get nobody to hear me at night if I want anything."

"Do you often want something?"

"Times, I do. Times, I get out of wanting, because I can't have--and
times I only want worse."

"_What_ do you want, Jane?"

"Well, Miss Eleanor,--I conceit I want to see somebody. The nights is
very long--and in the dark and by myself--I gets feared."

To Eleanor's dismay she perceived Jane was weeping.

"What in the world are you afraid of, Jane? I never saw you so before."

"'Tisn't of anything in _this_ world, Miss Eleanor," said Jane. Her
face was still covered with her hands, and the grapes neglected.

Eleanor was utterly confounded. Had Jane caught her feeling? or was
this something else?

"Are you afraid of spirits, Jane?"

"No, Miss Eleanor."

"What is it, then? Jane, this is something new. I never saw you feeling
so before."

"No, ma'am--and I didn't. But there come a gentleman to see me, ma'am."

"A gentleman to see you? What gentleman?"

"I don't know, Miss Eleanor; only he was tall, and pale-like, and black
hair. He asked me if I was ready to die--and I said I didn't know what
it was I wanted if I wasn't; and he told me---- Oh, I know I'll never
have rest no more!"

A burst of weeping followed these words. Eleanor felt as if a
thunderbolt had broken at her feet; so terrible to her, in her own
mood, was this revelation of a kindred feeling. She stood by the
bedside, dismayed, shocked, a little disposed to echo Jane's despairing
prophecy in her own case.

"Did he say no more to you, Jane?"

"Yes, Miss Eleanor, he did; and every word he said made me feel worser.
His two eyes was like two swords going through me; and they went
through me so softly, ma'am, I couldn't abear it. They killed me."

"But, Jane, he did not mean to kill you. What did he say?"

"I don't know, Miss Eleanor--he said a many things; but they only made
me feel----how I ain't fit----"

There was no more talking. The words were broken off by sobs. Eleanor
turned aside to the fire-place and began to make up the fire, in a
blank confusion and distress; f