"And her gratitude," pursued Mr. Jackson, "is quite a passion!" "Well, gratitude can never degenerate into a fault!" resumed Mrs. Montgomery, "and the child is not in the least selfish; indeed, it is always in the cause of something oppressed or injured, that her little spirit rises: a bird, a fly, or I have seen her, after trying to beat Henry, sit down and cry over a crushed worm, that he had refused to step aside to spare." "She may require the stricter guard," rejoined Mr. Jackson; "for, under the guise, and in the cause of generous feelings, we sometimes permit a warmth of temper to grow upon us, which we should have early subdued, had it appeared with a bare-faced front, and offered to fight our own battles." The rising of the ladies to retire, here put an end to the conversation. In a day or two, Lady L.'s expected confinement took place. What were the rejoicings, bonfires, and illuminations, may be imagined, when we say, that the child was, as the doctor had prophesied, a son. CHAPTER XVI. "Thinkest thou, that he but sleeps? Long shalt thou wait his awaking." The sick nurse ought not to have been asleep. Yet it appears that she certainly must have slept; for when the sound of something like a door shutting made her start forward from the deep, high back, of her easy-chair, she found, not only that her eyes had been shut, but that she had dreamed, what she considered a most remarkable dream. She was our old acquaintance from Edinburgh, and was very superstitious. The dream, and the particulars attending it, were as follows. We shall give them in her own words, as she ventured, nearly thirteen years after, to relate them, under a promise of secrecy, to her countrywoman, Mrs. Smyth, while they sat together at their tea in the housekeeper's room.