LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 626, 21 June 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A “CASE” OP MINE. ( Concluded .) ‘ “ They seem making themselves quite at home, Miss Polly, at any rate,” said my brother. “ I’ll go and see the fun.” Mary had been unusually quiet. The business matters that had to be discussed seemed for the time to have lost their importance; she would break off in the middle of a sentence, the strange look conic over her again, and her band would be passed across her forehead and eyes. When Prank had gone she remarked, faintly, “ Hobby was not laughing —it was the girl’s laugh.” ‘ How did she know 1 She then loft the room, and I went to dress for dinner. Frank tolls me that on going upstairs he found Polly in a state of glee. Nurmi was remonstrating as she wiped a saucer, and Master

Edward sitting utterly disconsolate in a very big arm-chair, with two big tears coursing quietly down his cheeks,- At her papa’s entrance, Polly rushed to him. “Oh papa! isn’t he a funny boy? He’s crying because nurse won’t let him go and see Auntie Mary agai a ! He says he wants to go to the lady, and stole away outside—nearly-all the way down; and nurse had to carry him back, and then he cried again ! Isn’t he a funny boy, papa ?” ‘ Frank quieted Polly with a look, and comforted Edward by saying that he would soon see the lady again if he was a good boy. He gulped down his tears, and Prank left him. The nurse was in the secret, and looked to me for orders in the matter. On the chance of Mary’s visiting the room, we had left out on the table tho little nightshirt the baby had on when the poor woman discovered, on her recovery, that he was not her own child. It was thrown carelessly on the table, with a few odds and ends and toys. She would think it was the workmanship of the nurse for the benefit of another little addition that Frank is daily expecting in his family. * After I was dressed I ran upstairs to have another look at the young ones, and met Mary just outside the door on the point of entering. She blushed red when she saw me. “ Come along, Mary,” I said, entering first and taking her band. “Well have a romp before dinner —it will give us an appetite.” ‘ Edward was standing at the window. Polly was nursing a doll and finishing what had once been a large slice of cake. Strange to say, Mary spoke to Polly and not to “Bobby,” though it was evident it wrs “ Bobby” she had come to see, for her eyes wandered to him, and rested with a puzzled look upon his face. She stood by the little table, and soon I saw her fingers take up the shirt. She turned and twisted it about for some time before she looked at it, then said, “You have plenty to do now, I suppose, nurse; another little one expected.” “ Oh, yes, ma’am—the more the merrier, bless their little hearts.” She talked a deal more of nurse talk, but Mary’s eyes were now on the shirt, and I saw her give a sort of shiver. I signed to nurse to go away with Polly. She did so, and still Mary only fingered the little shirt in a nervous way. I stole to her side, and as she turned her 10015" frightened me. “Take that child away, Milly, take him away instantly !—I can’t breathe the air near him! it stifles me!”

‘“Hush Mary!’ I said. “You are not well, that is all. We will go away, not poor Bobby. ” I got her downstairs, and prevailed on her to lie down. There seemed a struggle, a great struggle, going on within her, and so strong was the mastery she had to keep over herself that I saw she could hardly help thrusting me away from her in her efforts to throw olf something that seemed forcing itself on her. Was it the memory returning I thought—and prayed silently to God to aid it. She did not refer again to the boy, but her mental agony continued, and it was quite two hours before I could leave her. When, after at length prevailing on her to take a little food, she sank asleep, I stole thankiull}' away. ‘ Nurse was awaiting me. “I can’t keep the child quiet, miss. He keeps saying he wants to go to the lady. I don’t know what to do with him, but I know not a bit of rest I shall get this blessed night.” ‘ “Get him interested in some little story, nurse, and keep them both quiet, for Mrs Hammond has gone to sleep. lam tired myself, and will go and lie down.”—And what we had been so anxious to accomplish came about quite naturally, in this wise. 1 An hour later, I got up from the sofa ai d stole to my sister’s room. I found the door ajar, and on looking in, there was little Edward sitting very gravely by her bedside, one small hand on the coverlid. It was touchingly beautiful to see the little child sitting patiently waiting for its mother to awaken—awaken to memory, memory of love and of him. I could hardly move I felt spell-bound. He nevir stirred, but his large blue eyes rested alternately on her face and on mine, and his tiny hand crept closer to hers, but never ventured to touch it for fear of awakening her, while on his face rested the half sad, wondering expression so like his father’s. I saw it was best as it was, God had doubtless brought him at the right time. He had taken away—He was about to restore, and He knew the way better than I. ‘ For half an hour we watched, when a . slight movement told us that she had awakened. Still she did not open her eyes, but moved about restlessly, and sighed as if waking from a dream. I stole behind a screen, that he might be the tirst object she saw.

‘ She began speaking to herself—a habit of hers.

*“ltis so strange! Dream upon dream—dream upon dream!—and when I open my eyes I almost expect to see the child before me, that in my sleep hangs round my neck till my blood warms at his touch!” She added, wearily, “ I think I must be going mad.” Still her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be gently dozing off again, when the child quietly touched her hand, and in a voice of subdued ecstacyburst out “I want you for my mamma!” The eyes opened and rested on him—they seemed to grow larger and larger—she raised herself, and the boy, with his overflowing childish love, flung himself sobbing on-the bed! * For a moment she was stupefied, and passed her hand again across her brow. It was but for a moment; the veil was raised, the mist cleared, and the sunshine of the pent-up mother-love overflowed with a loud cry —“ My child !my boy !”' So ended the letter. 1 indeed went to see them as soon as I could, and a joyful household I found. Mother and boy were inseparable—the long fast of the affections made them ravenous of love.

In tliis case the child’s instinct seemed to lead him to his mother as much as her instinct led her to him, but by what link the chain of memory was united we cannot conceive. He who constituted the brain and mind, as well as the heart and emotions, only knows—hut so it was. They found conclusive evidence afterwards of young ‘ Clyde ’ being indeed her sou ; and when onco the memory was whole again, various circumstances came to her mind to substantiate the woman’s tale, without even the aid of the identity of the night-shirt with that of her child. I told Mrs Hammond and Miss Dennis that with their permission I would certainly write their strange story in my book of * Remarkable Cases.’ You, reader, must Judge whether it be one or no.