Old Lady Mary | Page 8

of feverish light about them; a magnified and mysterious
importance. This strange scene, which she did not understand, seemed
to make itself visible all in a moment out of the darkness, and then
disappeared again as suddenly as it came.

III.
When she woke again, it was morning; and her first waking
consciousness was, that she must be much better. The choking
sensation in her throat was altogether gone. She had no desire to
cough--no difficulty in breathing. She had a fancy, however, that she
must be still dreaming, for she felt sure that some one had called her by
her name, "Mary." Now all who could call her by her Christian name
were dead years ago; therefore it must be a dream. However, in a short
time it was repeated,--"Mary, Mary! get up; there is a great deal to do."
This voice confused her greatly. Was it possible that all that was past
had been mere fancy, that she had but dreamed those long, long
years,--maturity and motherhood, and trouble and triumph, and old age
at the end of all? It seemed to her possible that she might have dreamed
the rest,--for she had been a girl much given to visions,--but she said to
herself that she never could have dreamed old age. And then with a
smile she mused, and thought that it must be the voice that was a dream;
for how could she get up without Jervis, who had never appeared yet to
draw the curtains or make the fire? Jervis perhaps had sat up late. She
remembered now to have seen her that time in the middle of the night
by her bedside; so that it was natural enough, poor thing, that she
should be late. Get up! who was it that was calling to her so? She had
not been so called to, she who had always been a great lady, since she
was a girl by her mother's side. "Mary, Mary!" It was a very curious
dream. And what was more curious still was, that by-and-by she could
not keep still any longer, but got up without thinking any more of Jervis,
and going out of her room came all at once into the midst of a company
of people, all very busy; whom she was much surprised to find, at first,
but whom she soon accustomed herself to, finding the greatest interest
in their proceedings, and curious to know what they were doing. They,
for their part, did not seem at all surprised by her appearance, nor did

any one stop to explain, as would have been natural; but she took this
with great composure, somewhat astonished, perhaps, being used,
wherever she went, to a great many observances and much respect, but
soon, very soon, becoming used to it. Then some one repeated what she
had heard before. "It is time you got up,--for there is a great deal to do."
"To do," she said, "for me?" and then she looked round upon them with
that charming smile which had subjugated so many. "I am afraid," she
said, "you will find me of very little use. I am too old now, if ever I
could have done much, for work."
"Oh no, you are not old,--you will do very well," some one said.
"Not old!"--Lady Mary felt a little offended in spite of herself. "Perhaps
I like flattery as well as my neighbors," she said with dignity, "but then
it must be reasonable. To say I am anything but a very old woman--"
Here she paused a little, perceiving for the first time, with surprise, that
she was standing and walking without her stick or the help of any one's
arm, quite freely and at her ease, and that the place in which she was
had expanded into a great place like a gallery in a palace, instead of the
room next her own into which she had walked a few minutes ago; but
this discovery did not at all affect her mind, or occupy her except with
the most passing momentary surprise.
"The fact is, I feel a great deal better and stronger," she said.
"Quite well, Mary, and stronger than ever you were before?"
"Who is it that calls me Mary? I have had nobody for a long time to call
me Mary; the friends of my youth are all dead. I think that you must be
right, although the doctor, I feel sure, thought me very bad last night. I
should have got alarmed if I had not fallen asleep again."
"And then woke up well?"
"Quite well: it is wonderful, but quite true. You seem to know a great
deal about me."

"I know everything about you. You have had a very pleasant life, and
do you think you