Page:Unto the Third and Fourth Generation.pdf/17

 I had feared might settle on Lucy, was resting on myself instead.

But I lived through everything, and even Saturday night came at length. It was the night before the morning appointed for Lucy's wakening, and I did not attempt to sleep. When I ought to have gone to bed I wandered out into the locality of the mines, and at early morning I found myself like a lost soul encircling the smelting house of “Owd Bony.” The bank fires burning the refuse of iron ore sent a red glow into the world of darkness. Mountains and dale were blotted out; nothing was visible but the tongues of flame leaping from the squat mouths of the chimneys, and nothing was audible but the deep panting of the laboring engine that brought the iron out of the bowels of the earth. In my mood at that time it seemed a fit scene for the mysterious and awful rites which were being enacted in the big house behind the trees, with my love as the silent and unconscious subject.

The morning dawned very fresh and bright and beautiful. The sun shone and the birds sang, and there was no cloud or wind. As early as I dared I went up to the house. The doctor and the Scots minister arrived soon after me. I could not help seeing, in their grim sallowness, a certain satisfaction at my nervousness and pallor. It was almost as if they hoped for a tragic issue, or at least foresaw a ghastly triumph over me if things should not go well.

La Mothe joined us after a period of waiting. He looked cheerful and spoke cheerily. There was an irritating atmosphere of “everydayness” about the man's manner. He had been sleeping and had just awakened. I think he yawned as he bade us good morning.

In due course we all four passed into the bed room. That peaceful place was full of a holy calm. Lucy lay there as I had last seen her, with the tranquil face of a sleeping angel. I thought I had never beheld a human countenance so saintly. There was not a line of evil passion, not a trace of that spiritual alloy which the touch of the world brings to the soul that is fresh from God. The air around her seemed to breathe of heaven.

“Is everything ready, nurse?” said the hypnotist.

“Yes,” Mrs. Hill replied.

“Bring up that small table and set it near to the bed.”

This was done.

“Now set a wine glass on the table with the decanter of brandy.”

This was done also. The time for the awakening was at hand. There was no sound in the room except the chirping of the cheerful fire, the singing of the birds outside, the shuffling of the feet and the rasping of the breath of the hypnotist. The rest of us were perfectly quiet. Our very hearts seemed to stand still.

I must have lived a lifetime during the next two minutes. The tension was terrible. No physical pain can compare with the agony of suspense like that.

The hypnotist approached my darling, squared his breast across her body, and putting his fingers lightly on her forehead raised her eyelids with his thumbs. Her pupils were turned up—I could not look at her, I could not look away.

At the next moment the hypnotist was leaning closely over her, with his face close to her face, blowing softly into her eyes.

There was a measureless period of suspense. Lucy lay without a sign of life.

The hypnotist was holding the eyelids wide open and blowing strongly upon the pupils. The pupils were moving; they were coming down.

Then close to the silent face, very close, the hypnotist began to speak. In a loud, deep voice, caressing and yet commanding, he cried, “You're all right!”

Lucy's eyelids twitched under his fingers, but there was no other response.

“You're all right!” cried the hypnotist, as one calling into a deep cavern.

“All right! All right!”

The voice seemed to be dragging back the reluctant soul.

The sleeper moved. There was a clutching of the counterpane, a swelling of the bosom, a deep, audible breathing, and then the whole body rolled over on its side, as a child does when it is awakening in the morning from the long, unbroken sleep of the night.

I had begun to breathe freely again under mingled feelings of relief and joy.

“Speak to her,” said the hypnotist.

I tried but could not, then tried again and uttered a husky gurgle.

“Have no fear. She is quite safe. In two minutes more she will be awake and well. Speak to her. Let your voice be the first that she hears on returning to consciousness and to the world. Recall some incident of the past—the more tender the better. We will leave you.”

He motioned the doctor and the minister to go out with him, and they passed into the boudoir together. I reached over to my dear one and took her hand and kissed