saw her smile, his heart was satisfied, but when he closed his eyes again, a strange sense of tragedy settled down upon him, but what or why he knew not. Suddenly he called to her as if from his sleep, "Have I killed some one?" and there was horror in his voice.
"No, no, Doctor Thryng. You been nigh about killed yourself. Oh, why didn't I send for a doctor who could do you right! Bishop Towers won't know anything about this."
"What have you done?"
"I sent for Bishop Towers."
"Who did me up like this?"
She was silent and, rising quickly, stepped out on the porch, her cheeks flaming crimson. Yesterday in her terror and frenzy she could have done anything; but now—with his eyes fixed on her face so intently—she could not reply nor tell how, alone, she had stripped him to the waist and bound him about with the homespun cotton of her dress to stanch the bleeding before hurrying down the mountain for help.
Instinctively she had done the right thing and had done it well, but now she could not talk about it. David tried to call after her, but she had gone around into the next room and taken the baby from his cradle, where he was wailing his demands for attention. Azalea had gone out for a moment, and Aunt Sally "lowed the' wa'n't no use sp'ilin him by takin' him up every time he fretted fer hit. Hit would do him good to holler an' stretch."