"Thinkest thou, that he but sleeps?
Long shalt thou wait his awaking."
The sick nurse ought not to have been asleep. Yet it appears that she
certainly must have slept; for when the sound of something like a
door shutting made her start forward from the deep, high back, of her
easy-chair, she found, not only that her eyes had been shut, but that
she had dreamed, what she considered a most remarkable dream. She was
our old acquaintance from Edinburgh, and was very superstitious. The
dream, and the particulars attending it, were as follows. We shall
give them in her own words, as she ventured, nearly thirteen years
after, to relate them, under a promise of secrecy, to her countrywoman,
Mrs. Smyth, while they sat together at their tea in the housekeeper's
room.
"The peur lady," said the nurse, "had fall'n intle a sweet sleep, wi'
the baby at her breast. The chamber was dark, exceptin' a dull bit
lamp, that was blinking doon on the hearth-stane; for being summer
time, there was nae fire. I mysell' was sitting quietly e the great
chair; every thing e the hoose was se still, that I amaste thought
'at I could hear the far-aff voises o' the folk, 'at was making
rejoicing around the bonfires. My ane mind, you see, being quite easy
like; for, nor mother, nor child, could be doing better nor they were
doing; I must just ha' dozed a bit; for I begun a-dreaming, tho' I
canna' say precisely the purport of my dreams, until I thought I saw
Mr. Henry, as plain as I see you, slip on tip-toe, and stop half-way
e the middle e the floor. And then, I was se parfect certain, that I
heard him ask, in a whisper, hoo Lady L. was; that I meant to reply,
'As weel as can be expected, Sir;' bit tho' I begun working my jaw
frae side to side, to strive to get the words oot, it was se stiff it
wad na move. I can remember naething maer, till I thought I heard a
soond like a watchman's rattle; and then, I thought it was naething
bit the crumpling o' a piece o' paper, 'at I dreamed the doctor was
taking aff o' a bottle o' medicine. I was sure 'at I saw him quite
plain, standing wi' the bottle in his hand, near the table. Nor was I
that far gane, but that I kent weel enough, through aw my sleep, 'at
I ought tle rise and reach him a glass; bit I had na poor tle stir a
limb. I could nae ha' been weell mysell', for it was mere like tle a
trance, woman, nor tle common sleep. And then, I thought, 'at to my
great surprise, the doctor had the vara face o' Mr. Henry, bit oulder
like; and while I was wondering at this, and looking at the doctor, and
the doctor, I thought, looking hard at me, the doctor, and the bottle,
and the table, and the foot o' the bed-curtain, aw disappeared; and I
can remember naething mere, bit a deal o' confusion about being hame
again in Edinburgh; until I was wakened ootright, by what I thought at
the time, was the shutting o' the door frae the dressing-room intle
the gareden. Bit it must ha' been the doctor's rap, for he cam' in
amaste immediately. What was vara remarkable was, that after I should
ha' dreamed o' seeing yon bottle in the doctor's hand, that there
should hae been se mickle said and done about yon vara bottle; and
that it should ha' been yon bottle, that I mysell' blamed for every
thing! Weel! the doctor he could na get the bit tie undoone; and he
sais to me, 'Mrs. Mowbray, will you favour me weth a pin?' I remember
it as weel as it was but yesterday. And he said, at the same time,
that he never had afore, in aw the hale course o' his practice, used
a double knot wi' tying down a bottle, but a'y a single ane, wi' the
ends twisted. And then he said, in his curious way, ye ken, as he shook
the bottle afoor he poured the medicine intle the glass, that the
good lady need na to be afeared to tack it, for that he aye mixed his
medicines afoor dinner. And then, he pleased his sell', honest man, wi'
laughing a bit at his ane joke. And then he geed the lady the glass;
bit yeer mistress, wha had come in soon after the doctor did, and wha
was standing at the bedside, just eased the lily-white hand o' the
weight, for a moment or twa, while she observed, that as her daughter
had had some refreshing sleep, it might no be necessary to gie her a
composing draught. Weel, the doctor, he alood his sell', that there was
naething like natural rest; bit tho' he was amang the best o' them, he
was like them aw, in that particular, he wad hae his ane ill-savoured
trash swallowed, right or wrong--and wrong enough it proved. However,
the doctor said, that they might depend upon it, it was a maste benign
and salubrious mixture; and that having slept se much a'ready, the lady
might the mere likely be wakefu' in the night-time, if she did na tack
her sleeping-draught. And se, her peur mither, she was over-ruled, and
geed her back the glass. And she swallowed the draught sure enough,
and slept sure enough, and lang enough, for she never waked more!"
Mrs. Smyth made no reply, for she was rocking herself from side to
side, with the tears rolling down her face.
"The doctor, peur old man, he is dead and gane," resumed the nurse, "or
I wad na say what I am going to say, even to yoursell', Mrs. Smyth;
but I have often thought syne," and here she lowered her voice, "that
yon sleeping-draught was stronger nor the hold o' life in her that
drank it." Mrs. Smyth only shook her head. "My dream," added the old
nurse, after a short silence, "certainly cam' oot, about the bottle;
and that's what I blame mysell' for: I should ha' spoken up, and talt
the vision; for never did I, nor ony belanging to me, dream o' seeing
ony thing, so distinct as I saw yon bottle, that some harm did na come
o' 't. And the doctor, too, he was na long for this warld, after I
dreamed o' seeing his face changed. It's never good to dream o' seeing
ony body wi' another body's face."
"Bonfires, indeed!" murmured Mrs. Smyth to herself, as if thinking
aloud. "Aye," she added, in a spiritless tone, when aroused to
attention by the ceasing of nurse's voice, "it was a particular dream,
to be sure. And some of the folk was saying, too, that there was ane
seen oot by that night, that keeped be his sell', like the angel o'
death. He went near nowther bonfires nor drink, and was seen ne more,
when aw was over wi' them within."