Jane Kelly now fell to her work with vigor, and directly where the death-couch of that young girl had been, a cot, piled high and evened down under a coarse white counterpane, stood ghostly and cold, like an enormous grave just sheeted with snow; and all the ward took that air of chill cleanliness which, in a large room full of human beings, is necessary and admirable, but bleak as a desert. It was a little remarkable that Jane was constantly going to and fro from the spot where she happened to be at work to Mrs. Dillon’s bed; that she sometimes felt her pulse, and once or twice, during the morning, took up young Ireland, and fed him from a bottle with her own hands. It was also singular that she never went near the younger woman, and seemed shy of even looking at her. People are sometimes seized with repulsion against persons about whom they have meditated great injury. Was this the case with Jane Kelly? It was deep in the day before Mary Margaret was aroused; but the lusty cries of her child at last broke the leaden sleep that was upon her, and she sat up in bed, dazed and bewildered, wondering what it was that made her eyes so heavy, and had left that throbbing pain in her temples. She took up the child, with a dreary sense of weight, and once or twice almost dropped him from her arms from the heavy dulness that would not be shaken off. “I’ve been draimin’ sure,” she said, looking about for the child. “Arrah, here he is, wide-awake, wid his fist doubled under his cheek, and his eyes smothered wid the tears, bad luck to me!” All at once she seemed to remember something; for, dropping the child on the bed, she got off at the side, and, with her limbs trembling and her head reeling, went to the bed occupied by Catharine Lacy and the infant that had been lent to her. When she saw Catharine lying there, with a smile on her lips, and the babe sound asleep in her arms, the good woman gave a little shout, and fell down on her knees by the cot, exclaiming, “Glory to God! there she is to the fore; I’ve been draiming. Glory! amin!” “What is it—what makes you so glad?” said a sweet voice from the bed. “Oh, Mrs. Dillon, I have been sleeping so sweetly.” Mary Margaret did not seem to hear this. The sting of some sharp anxiety had aroused her for a moment; but when that was removed, the heavy, slumberous feeling came back. Lifting herself from the bed, she moved toward her own cot, swaying heavily to and fro as she walked; but all the while she was muttering thanksgiving for some great mercy received or danger escaped. Directly she reached her own bed, Mary Margaret fell asleep again, taking care of her child dreamily, and with her eyes now and then unclosing when he grew absolutely impatient.