But I couldn't remember it properly either; however I tried. I could only say, '"I will be with thee"—is it that, Hebe?—"I will be with thee."' And she squeezed my hand tighter, and I thought she said, 'Yes, that's it, Jack.'
And then again I fancied she pulled her hand out of mine, and ran on in front quite fast, calling joyfully, 'I see them, Jack. Come on quick— Jack, Jack.'
It was then I awoke, and I found I had been squeezing my own hand quite tight. But I felt sure Hebe had been calling me.
I sat up and listened, but there was no sound. I began to cry; I thought Hebe was dead, and then I remembered that the verse I couldn't get right in my dream was about the valley of the shadow of death, and at first that made me feel worse, till all of a sudden it came into my head that it wasn't 'the valley of death' but only 'the valley of the shadow of death,' And that seemed to mean that Hebe had been near it—near death, I mean,—'near enough for the shadow of his wings to fall over her,' was the way mums said it when I told her my dream afterwards. That comforted me. I got out of bed very softly in the darkness and crept to the landing, where the balusters run round, and listened.
The gas lamp was burning faintly down below, and I heard a slight rustling as if people were moving about. And after a while the door of a room opened softly, and two men came out. It was father and the doctor. I couldn't have believed big men could have moved so quietly, and I listened as if I was all ears.
'I think, now——' was the most I could catch of what Dr. Marshall said.
But then came much plainer—of course I know his voice so well—from father, 'Thank God.'
And I knew Hebe was better.
I shall always think of that night, always, even when I'm quite old, when I read that verse. Afterwards mother explained to me more about it. She said she thought that to good people—you know what I mean by 'good people'—Christians—it should always seem as if, after all, even when they really do have to die, it is only the shadow that they have to go through—'the valley of the shadow of death'; that Death itself in any dreadful lasting way is not really there, because of the presence that is promised to us—'I will be with thee.'
I can't say it anything like as nicely as mums did, but I do understand it pretty well all the same; and if ever I feel frightened of death in a wrong way, I think about it. Mother said we're meant to be afraid of death in one way, just as we would be afraid and are meant to be afraid of anything dark and unknown and very solemn. But that's different.