Wilsons Tales of the Borders and Scotland, Vol. XXIII. | Page 8

an outer door, which led

by a short dark passage to two or three inner doors in succession, all
leading to separate rooms occupied by separate people. No sooner had
they turned into this passage than they encountered a woman in a plaid
and with a lantern in her hand, who had just left the third or innermost
room, and whose face, as it peered through the thick folds of her
head-covering, was illuminated by a gleam from the light she carried.
She gave them little opportunity for examination, having hurried away
as if she had been afraid of being searched for stolen property.
"Isbel Napier," whispered Mrs. Hislop; "she wha first brought evil into
the house of the Napiers, with all its woe."
"And who bodes us small hope 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 on the breast o' its dead mother; ay, and bent her stiff arms sae
as to bring them ower her bairn, just as if she had been faulding it to
her bosom. And sae in this fashion were they buried."
"And you would swear to that, Mrs. Temple?" said the writer.
"Ay, upon fifty Bibles, ane after anither," was the reply, in something
like a tone of triumph.
Nor could the woman be induced to swerve from these assertions,
notwithstanding repeated interrogations; and the writer was left to the
conclusion--which he preferred, rather than place any confidence in the
funeral letter--that the nurse's statement was in some mysterious way
connected with the visit of Isabel Napier; and yet, not so very
mysterious, after all, when we are to consider that her brother was
preparing to claim Eastleys, as well as the valuable furniture of the
house in Meggat's Land, as the nearest lawful heir of his deceased
uncle. The salvo was at least comfortable to both Mr. White and his
client, and no doubt it helped to lighten their steps, as, bidding adieu to
the "hard witness," they left her to the nursing which comes "aye hame
in the end."
But their inquiries were not finished; and retracing their steps up