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There was such a sad expression in her mother's face, that, in the midst of the hymn, little Rosalie burst into tears, and threw her arms round her mother's neck. 'Don't cry, darling, don't cry! said her mother; 'what is the matter with you, Rosalie? 'Oh, mammie dear, I don't want you to go to-night! 'Hush, little one! said her mother; 'don't speak of that.
The sweet fresh breezes came in at the open door, and fanned her careworn face and the face of the child who sat beside her. 'Rosalie, said her mother suddenly, 'would you like to hear about the time when your mother was a little girl? 'Yes, mammie dear, said Rosalie, nestling up to her side; 'I know nothing at all about it.
Such a pretty church, with trees all round it! 'Are there any houses near it? asked her mother. 'Only one, mammie dear, a big house in a garden; but I can't see it very well, there are so many trees in front of it. 'Ask Toby to put you down, Rosalie, and run and have a look at it as we pass.
And there have been things the last few days which have brought it all back to me, and made me think of it by day and dream of it by night. 'Please tell me, mammie dear, said Rosalie, as her mother stopped speaking. 'Would you like to hear it now? said the poor woman, with a sigh, as if she hardly liked to begin. 'Please, mammie dear, said Rosalie.
Just think if that fiery man, that Marianna is always telling me about, had got out of the stove? I believe that fiery man is the devil; I've asked Marianna, but she didn't know. Do you think, mammie, that it's the devil?" She sat up in bed. She was still completely dressed. "Is it the devil?" Mrs. Tiralla nodded. "So you also believe that it's the devil?"
"Mammie, mammie," exclaimed the little rustic, running towards the door of the hut, "come out and speak to the gentleman." Her mother appeared, a handsome young country-woman, to whose features, originally sly and espiegle in expression, matrimony had given that decent matronly air which peculiarly marks the peasant's wife of Scotland.
'And now, little woman, I've told you all I need tell you at present; perhaps some day I can give you more particulars; but you will have some idea now why I am so utterly wretched. 'Yes, utterly wretched! said the poor woman, 'no hope for this world, and no hope for the next. 'Poor, poor mammie! said little Rosalie, stroking her hand very gently and tenderly 'poor mammie dear!
For hours that sleep lasted, and when she awoke she seemed refreshed and rested. 'Rosalie darling, she said, calling her little girl to her side, 'I've had such a beautiful dream! 'What was it, mammie dear? asked Rosalie.
But no amount of either heat or fatigue could take the loving sparkle out of Mammie Moseley's eyes, and she was now expatiating on the delights of the little ones in the grass and flowers. "There was one dear little toddle, John," she said; "she seemed fairly to lose her head with delight; to see that child rolling over in the grass and clutching at the daisies would do any heart good.
She then, as her wild fancy seemed suddenly to prompt her, walked demurely towards her mother, who, seated by the charcoal fire, with the reflection of the red light on her withered and distorted features marked by every evil passion, seemed the very picture of Hecate at her infernal rites; and, suddenly dropping on her knees, said, with the manner of a six years' old child, "Mammie, hear me say my prayers before I go to bed, and say God bless my bonny face, as ye used to do lang syne."
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