some music and a note from Jack soon after he left Thorpe. She never played the music. I do not think she ever answered the note. She seemed out of health as the Summer advanced, but she evaded all explanation on the subject, and would seem irritated by any reference to her ill looks. She grew colder and stiller than ever; her manner became oppressive to me. I wondered what was weighing on her spirits, and annoying suspicions would creep in concerning her. Meanwhile Mr. Holt continued his visits quite regularly. I was convinced that Miss Mason was the object of them; even Jenny, who was usually too much absorbed in herself to be curious about the affairs of others, perceived where his attentions were pointed, and thought "he would be quite a catch for a music teacher!" Such thrusts seemed to do Jenny a world of good. She and Miss Mason did not get on any better together as time advanced; her small peckings seemed to goad Miss Mason now, whereas formerly she had been quite indifferent to them. Two or three times I caught her looking at Jenny with a passionate sort of envy, or hatred, or malice—I could not tell which, or why she looked so.
Poor Jenny was destined to go through with quite an ordeal of suffering that Summer. She was ailing for two or three weeks, and finally came down with typhoid fever. The fever ran high and long, and, of course, we all took our share in caring for her. Miss Mason offered several times to sit up with her at night, but we did not find it necessary to accept her services for some weeks. I would rather not have done so at all, she was so miserable herself; but one night, when Jenny was at the worst, she seemed so anxious to do her part that it was arranged for her to watch. When bed time came, however, she was looking so wan and haggard that I urged her to let me remain in her place. It struck me that there was something like a feverish excitement in the way she insisted upon watching with the sick girl.
I went to bed with an uneasiness and weight upon my mind. That I should do so was natural enough, with such extreme sickness under my roof; but, in addition, I seemed to perceive the shadow of coming fate. It was a sultry August night; I lay on my bed, and tossed and turned, and could not rest, and as I asked myself, over and over, the occasion of my extreme nervousness, my mental reply shaped itself over and again, and always the same: I distrusted Miss Mason. I would have given anything not to have done so; I could assign no sufficient reason for so doing, but I could not force the fact of my suspicion from my mind; I distrusted her; and in a vain effort to quiet my distrust I finally fell asleep.
I was wakened by the clock striking three, and I started up with the consciousness that something was happening. I listened.
