"I can't rightly say who told me," replied Ketler; "it's the talk of the place. Wilks denies it out and out; but when he's in his evening cups--and that's not seldom--he does things that next morning he has no recollection of. Doctor Rane laughed at me, though, for saying so: a lawyer knows better than to let private matters get out to his clerks, says the doctor. But he don't know that Tim Wilks as some of us do." "Well, I would not say too much about it's being Tim Wilks, if I were you, Ketler," cried Jelly, in suppressed wrath, brushing the crumbs from her black gown. "You might find yourself in hot water." And then Ketler suddenly remembered that Wilks was her particular friend, so he turned the subject. Jelly tore herself away at last, very unwillingly: gossip and tea-drinking formed her idea of an earthly paradise. Night was setting in; a light, beautiful night, the moon sailing majestically in the sky. Just past the gates of Dallory Hall, in a bend of the road where the overhanging trees on either side gave it a lonely appearance at night: and by day too, for that matter: no dwelling of any sort being within view, stood a bench at the side of the path. It was a welcome resting-place to tired wayfarers; it was no less welcome to wandering lovers in their evening rambles. As Jelly went hastening on, a faint sound of voices broke upon her ear from this spot, and she arrested her steps instinctively. The chance of pouncing unexpectedly upon a pair exchanging soft vows, was perfectly delightful to Jelly; especially if it should happen to be a pair who had no business to exchange them. Stealing softly along, went she, until she came to the turning, and then she looked cautiously round. The projecting bushes favoured her. To do Jelly justice, it must be affirmed that she had neither malice nor ill-will in her nature; rather the contrary; but a little innocent prying into her neighbours' affairs presented an irresistible temptation. What, then, was her astonishment to see--not a dying swain and his mistress, side by side: but her own mistress, Mrs. Cumberland, seated on the bench in an agony of grief, and Dr. Rane standing with folded arms before her. Jelly, great at divining probabilities, easily comprehended the situation. Her mistress must have stayed to take tea with Mrs. Gass, and encountered her son in walking home. To come down upon lovers with a startling reprimand was one thing; to intrude upon her mistress and Dr. Rane would be quite another. Jelly wished she had not gone stealing up like a mouse, and felt inclined to steal back again.