Here the young patient sat up in her bed and gazed upon the scene with disturbed eyes,—Jane Kelly with the bottle in her hand and a sneering laugh on her lips, Mrs. Dillon sitting on the side of her bed, crimson with anger, her face wet with tears, and her cap-borders drooping like dahlias after a two days’ rain; half the patients in the ward leaning upon their elbows and listening with eager curiosity. This was what the young creature saw. “No, no,” she cried, and her sweet voice ran through the discord like the chime of a silver bell stealing through a clash of iron. “She did drink something from the vial; I saw her. I know it was from the vial, and I know that it was white; you took that vial away, Kelly, and put the other in its place; my eyes were almost shut, but I saw you.” Mary Margaret clasped her hands in an outbreak of gratitude, and holding them up called out,—“Do ye hear that now? Hasn’t the holy Virgin sent down one of her angels to confound yer wid yer own lies, Jane Kelly. Now just put that bottle away and niver show the likes again—taking away a respectable married woman’s character. Put it away, put it away, an’ maybe the holy Mother may give me grace ter forgive yez entirely, but don’t let the old mon know what yez been at, or he’d break ivery bone in yer body and think it a pleasure.” With this, Mary Margaret, satisfied that her vindication was complete, curled herself into the bed, took young Ireland to her motherly bosom, and told the rest of her griefs to him in sobs and whispers, which he was far too busy to care much about—the spalpeen! The exertion the young patient had made, left her panting for breath, while drops of weakness gathered upon her forehead like rain upon a lily. Jane Kelly meantime left the ward, swinging the empty bottle by the neck. CHAPTER XI. JANE KELLY FINDS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. That night a house on Murry Hill was lighted up with more than usual splendor, not exactly for a party, for then those broad stone steps would have been carpeted to the street, and a sound of music would have been heard by every passer-by. Still there were sufficient indications of company; all the front windows were ablaze with light. The large gas lanterns on each side the steps flooded the pavement with their radiance. The soft hum of voices came faintly through draperies of lace and curtains of satin, and there seemed to be a good deal of commotion in the basement, quite enough to justify the idea of a large party gathered socially. All this troubled Jane Kelly, who stood by the stone railing with the velvet prayer-book under her shawl, doubtful whether she had not better put off her errand to another day, than risk a denial at the door. Jane was not a woman to hesitate over small difficulties. She was seized with curiosity to know what was going on in that lofty mansion, and went down the basement-steps as if she belonged there.