JESSIE LEE AND HER MOTHER.
Jessie was sitting on one side of the bed holding a Parian cup in her
hand; the amber gleam of coffee shone through the transparent
vine-leaves that embossed it, and she was stirring the fragrant beverage
gently with a spoon.
"Try, dear mother, and drink just a little," she was saying, in her
sweet, caressing way. "It makes me very unhappy to see you looking so
ill."
"Indeed I am not ill, only a little restless, Jessie," answered the
sweet lady, rising languidly from her pillow and reaching forth her hand
for the cup. She tasted the coffee and looked gratefully at her
daughter. "It is nice; no one understands me like you, my daughter."
Jessie blushed with pleasure, and began to mellow a delicate slice of
toast with the silver knife that lay beside it, making a parade of her
efforts, which she evidently hoped would entice her mother's appetite:
and so it did. I am sure no one besides her could have tempted that
frail woman to eat a mouthful. As it was, one of the birds that was
picking seeds from the terrace could almost have rivalled her appetite:
the presence of her daughter, I fancy, gave her more strength than
anything else.
"So you have had a bad night, my mother," said Jessie, tenderly; "once
or twice I awoke and felt that you did not sleep."
"Indeed!" said the mother, with an earnest look breaking through the
heaviness of her eyes.
"Yes, indeed; but then I never wake in the night without wondering if
you sleep well."
"Did you see me?" questioned the mother, anxiously.
"See you, mother?"
Mrs. Lee smiled faintly, and shook her head as if to cast off some
strange thought.
"Of course, it was impossible. I must have slept long enough to dream;
but it seems to me as if I was in your room last night. Something called
me there, a faint, white shadow, that sometimes took the outline of an
angel, sometimes floated before me like a cloud."
"Oh, my good mother! it was kind to come, even in your dreams," said
Jessie, kissing the little hand that lay in hers.
Mrs. Lee looked troubled, and seemed to be searching her memory for
something.
"It took me--the cloud-angel--you know, into the blue room."
"The blue room!" Jessie and I exclaimed together, for that was the
apartment in which Mrs. Dennison slept, though the fact had never been
mentioned to Mrs. Lee, and another chamber had at first been intended
for our guest. "The blue room?"
"Yes, the blue room!" she said; "but like all dreams, nothing was like
the reality. Instead of the enamelled furniture, everything was covered
with the prettiest blue chintz, with a wild-rose pattern running over
it."
Jessie and I looked at each other in consternation, for the furniture
which Mrs. Lee described as familiar to the blue room had been removed
to the chamber we had first intended for Mrs. Dennison, and that with
which we had replaced it being too rich for a sleeping-room, we had
covered it with the pretty chintz, without mentioning the fact to Mrs.
Lee or any one else.
"There was a toilet instead of the dressing-table, I remember,"
continued the lady, "with quantities of frost-like lace falling around
it and on it; with other things, a little basket, prettier than mine,
full of mossrose-buds."
"Was there nothing else in the basket?" I questioned, holding my breath
for the reply.
"Nothing else," answered the lady, smiling; "oh! yes, combs and
hair-pins, rings and bracelets, the whole toilet was in a glitter."
"But nothing else in the basket?" I persisted.
"No; rose-buds--mossrose-buds, red and white. Nothing more," she
answered, languidly.
Mrs. Lee paused a moment with her eyes closed. Then starting as if from
sleep, she almost cried out,--
"There was a woman in the room--in the bed--a beautiful woman. The
ruffles of her night-gown were open at the throat, the sleeves were
broad and loose; you could see her arms almost to the shoulders. She
wore no cap, and her hair fell in bright, heavy coils down to her waist.
She had something in her hand; don't speak, I shall remember in a
minute: the color was rich. It was, yes, it was half a peach, with the
brown stone partly bedded in the centre; the fragrance of it hung about
the basket of roses."
"And you saw all this, dear lady?" I exclaimed, startled by the reality
of her picture, which, as a whole, I recognized far more closely than
Jessie could.
"In my dream, yes; but one fancies such strange things when asleep, you
know, dear Miss Hyde."
"Strange, very strange," murmured Jessie; "but for the basket of roses
and the fruit, we might have recognized the picture. Don't you think so,
Aunt Matty?"
"Did you get a look at the lady's face?" I inquired, suppressing
Jessie's question.
"No, no; I think not. The thick hair shaded it, but the arms and neck
were white as lilies. She had bitten the peach; I remember seeing marks
of her teeth on one side. Strange, isn't it, how real such fancies will
seem?"
"It is, indeed, strange," I said, feeling cold chills creeping over me.
"Besides," continued the invalid, while a scarcely perceptible shiver
disturbed her, "notwithstanding the freshness and beauty of everything,
I felt oppressed in that room--just as flowers may be supposed to grow
faint when vipers creep over them; the air seemed close till I got to
your chamber, Jessie."
"And there?" said the sweet girl, kissing her mother's hand again.
"There, the angel that had been a cloud took form again. It beckoned
me--beckoned me--I cannot tell where; but you were sleeping, I know
that."
"It was a strange dream," said Jessie, thoughtfully.
"The impression was very strong," answered the mother, drawing a hand
across her eyes,--"so powerful that it tired me. This morning it seemed
as if I had been on a journey."
"But you are better now," I said; "this sense of fatigue is wearing off,
I hope."
"Oh, yes!" she answered, languidly.
"And you will be well enough to see Mrs. Dennison before dinner, I
hope," whispered Jessie.
"Perhaps, child."
"Father will persuade you."
"Where is your father, Jessie?"
"Oh! somewhere about. On the front balcony, I believe, with Mrs.
Dennison, who declares that she never will get tired of looking down the
valley."
"Yes, it is a lovely view. We used to sit on the balcony for hours--your
father and I--but now--" Mrs. Lee turned away her face and shaded her
eyes with one pale hand.
I walked to the window and lifted the curtain; but there was a mist over
my eyes, and I could not discern a feature of the landscape.