On Sunday Captain Levison arrived at East Lynne.
MRS. HARE’S DREAM.
The next day rose bright, warm, and cloudless, and
the morning sun streamed into the bedroom of Mrs.
Hare. Mr. and Mrs. Hare were of the old-fashioned
class who knew nothing about dressing-rooms, their
bedrooms were very large, and they never used a dressing-room
in their lives, or found the want of one. The
justice rubbed his face to a shining brilliancy, settled
on his morning wig and his dressing-gown, and then
turned to the bed.
“What will you have for breakfast?”
“Thank you, Richard, I do not think that I can
eat any thing. I shall be glad of my tea; I am
very thirsty.”
“All nonsense,” responded the justice,
alluding to the intimation of not eating. “Have
a poached egg.”
Mrs. Hare smiled at him, and gently shook her head.
“You are very kind, Richard, but I could not
eat it this morning. Barbara may send up the
smallest bit of dry toast. Would you please throw
the window open before you go down; I should like
to feel the air.”
“You will get the air too near from this window,”
replied Mr. Justice Hare, opening the further one.
Had his wife requested that the further one to be
opened, he would have opened the other; his own will
and opinions were ever paramount. Then he descended.
A minute or two, and up ran Barbara, looking bright
and fair as the morning, her pink muslin dress, with
its ribbons and its open white lace sleeves, as pretty
as she was. She leaned over to kiss her mother.
“Mamma, are you ill? And you have been
so well lately; you went to bed so well last night.
Papa says—”
“Barbara, dear,” interrupted Mrs. Hare,
glancing round the room with dread, and speaking in
a deep whisper, “I have had one of those dreadful
dreams again.”
“Oh, mamma, how can you!” exclaimed
Barbara, starting up in vexation. “How
can you suffer a foolish dream to overcome you as to
make you ill? You have good sense in other matters,
but, in this, you seem to put all sense away from
you.”
“Child, will you tell me how I am to help it?”
returned Mrs. Hare, taking Barbara’s hand and
drawing her to her again. “I do not give
myself the dreams; I cannot prevent their making me
sick, prostrate, feverish. How can I help these
things, I ask?”
At this moment the bedroom door was flung open, and
the face of the justice, especially stern and cross
then was pushed in. So startled was Mrs. Hare,
that she shook till she shook the pillow, and Barbara
sprang away from the bed. Surely he had not distinguished
their topic of conversation!
“Are you coming to make the breakfast to-day,
or not Barbara? Do you expect me to make it?”
“She is coming this instant, Richard,”
said Mrs. Hare, her voice more faint than usual.
And the justice turned and stamped down again.
