here," said he, "if she has been with the
nurse."
And entering the room from which the ill-omening woman had issued, they
found another, even her of whom they were in search, sitting by the
fire, torpid and corpulent, to a degree which indicated that as it had
been her trade to nurse others, she had not forgotten herself in her
ministrations.
"Mrs. Temple," said Mr. White, who saw the policy of speaking fair the
woman who had been so recently in the company of an evil genius; "I am
glad to find you so stout and hearty."
"Neither o' the twa, sir," replied she; "for I am rather weak and
heartless. Many a ane I hae nursed into health and strength, but a'
nursing comes hame in the end."
"And some, no doubt, have died under your care," continued the writer,
with a view to introduce his subject; "and therefore you should be
grateful for the life that is still spared to you. You could not save
the life of Mrs. Napier."
"That's an auld story, and a waefu' ane," she replied, with a side-look
at Mrs. Hislop; "and I hae nae heart to mind it. Some said the lady
wasna innocent; and doubtless Mr. Napier thought sae, for he took high
dealings wi' her, and looked at her wi' a scorn that would have scathed
whinstanes. Sae it was better she was ta'en awa--ay, and her baby wi'
her; for if it had lived, it would have dree'd the revenge o' that stern
man."
"The child!" said Mr. White, "did it die too?"
"Dee! ye may rather ask if it ever lived; for it never drew breath, in
this world at least."
A statement so strange, that it brought the eyes of the two visitors to
each other; and no doubt both of them recurred in memory to the
statement in the funeral letter, which, whatever may have been the case
with the assertion now made by the nurse, never could have been dictated
by her they had met in the passage; and no doubt, also, they both
remembered the statement made by Mr. Dallas, to the effect that both the
mother and child were buried together.
"Never drew breath, you say, nurse!" resumed Mr. White, with an air of
astonishment; "why, I have been given to understand, not only that the
child was born alive, but that it is actually living now."
"Weel," replied the nurse, "maybe St. Cuthbert has wrought a miracle,
and brought the child out o' the grave by the West Church; but he has
wrought nae miracle on me, to mak' me forget what my een saw, and my
hands did, that day when I helped to place the dead body o' the innocent
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