Mr. Lindsay told
her what she asked, and there left her. Ellen found herself
growing melancholy over the comparison she was drawing, and
wisely went to the book-cases to divert her thoughts. Finding
presently a history of Scotland, she took it down, resolving
to refresh her memory on a subject which had gained such new
and strange interest for her. Before long, however, fatigue
and the wine she had drunk effectually got the better of
studious thoughts; she stretched herself on the sofa and fell
asleep.
There Mr. Lindsay found her a couple of hours afterwards,
under the guard of the housekeeper.
"I cam in, Sir," she said, whispering — "it's mair than an
hour back, and she's been sleeping just like a babby ever
syne; she hasna stirred a finger. O, Mr. Lindsay, it's a bonny
bairn, and a gude. What a blessing to the house!"
"You're about right there, I believe, Maggie; but how have you
learned it so fast?"
"I canna be mista'en, Mr. George; I ken it as weel as if we
had a year auld acquentance; I ken it by thae sweet mouth and
een, and by the look she gied me when you tauld her, Sir, I
had been in the house near as lang's yoursel. An' look at her
eenow. There's heaven's peace within, I'm a'maist assured."
The kiss that wakened Ellen found her in the midst of a dream.
She thought that John was a king of Scotland, and standing
before her in regal attire.
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