"Miss Jessie! You awake!" she said. "I go get Master Robbie."
Impressions began to return to my consciousness; memory of my father's letter, then of weeping, retching, of pain, and of blood. I remembered hearing Robbie's voice calling my name, his hand holding mine, prayers being spoken. With a great effort I managed at last to place my hand on my belly; and I knew the child was not there. I was too weak even to feel sadness. I only felt emptiness.
I heard feet on the steps, heard the cabin door open, and Robbie came toward me. At the bedside he stopped, and I looked up at him.
He knelt beside the bed and took my hand from where it lay, and held it to his lips.
"Jessie, lass," he said. "Lass, oh, lass. Thank God, you are awake."
I tried to nod my head. The room blurred, then cleared again.
Robbie's face was pale, as if it were wintertime. His freckles stood out against his white skin; his cheeks and chin were rough with beard. His shirt was open, his throat glistening with sweat. His eyes were dark as they searched mine.
I opened my mouth.
"Do not try to speak, lass," he said quickly. "Rabbit is fetching food for you. You will have some beef tea, and it will strengthen you. It's been a week since . . ." His voice trailed away.
I looked away from him. I did not want to strengthen. I wanted to die.
Eleanor and Granny Moira appeared beside the bed; Robbie stepped back. Eleanor said something about a doctor; Granny's face looked down at me and I felt her wrinkled hand stroke mine.
Rabbit came back; they all grasped me, their arms beneath me, and propped me up on pillows. The room faded away. Sometime later I realized that I was lying flat again.
Rabbit was touching my lips with a spoon; I tried to move my face away.
The next time I opened my eyes, the room was dark; shadows moved on the ceiling from the light of a candle. I closed my eyes again. I did not want to wake. I did not want to see. I wanted to slip into darkness and not return.
The candle went out. Slowly the window took shape as day dawned. Someone stirred in the room; a flint was struck, a new candle lit. Rabbit stood beside the bed, holding the candle over me. I looked up at her but could not speak.
"Miss Jessie," she whispered, putting the candle down on the table, "Miss Jessie.