Eleanor took charge of everything. She spoke with the doctor and ordered everyone out of the room except Pete. I stood outside the door, but Granny Moira came and took my arm.
"Come, lass; you will be wanting a bath and some supper. You look a mite peaky," she said. I allowed myself to be led away, the sounds of Robbie's pain and delirium receding.
I was indeed filthy and exhausted. I had only a change of linen with me; Granny found a clean linsey-woolsey bedgown for me. I sank gratefully into the warm tub of water, and felt relief flood me again. We were safe with the McDonald clan. Now all would be well.
I ate of the stew brought me with good appetite and drank a bit of sassafras beer; then, after begging Granny to speak to Eleanor and the doctor, and being told by her that he was feverish but no worse than before, I at last went to bed and fell into dreamless sleep.
The next days were fraught with worry; but at last after a week, the doctor declared that Robbie was on the mend and would surely recover completely. I stood beside the bed holding Robbie's hand as he slept, tears of joy and gratitude flowing down my cheeks. I thanked God fervently, again vowing that even if I must live at Barraigh for the rest of my days, indeed, even if Robbie sent me home to Brianag without him, that I would not complain. Robbie lived, and even if I never lived as his wife again, even if he never held me in his arms and kissed me, never spoke to me, I would be content knowing that he lived.
The weather had cleared and the snow disappeared under a clear blue sky. The days warmed unseasonably, and I walked out onto the porch in the afternoons to take the fresh air. When the ground had dried sufficiently, I made my way down the path to our cabin one afternoon while Robbie napped.
I pushed the door open. The interior was dark, and I opened the shutters to let in the light. The rooms were bare, the bed devoid of linen, the curtains gone. A faint stain marked the floor boards near the bed. I shuddered with the memory of my illness here; I did not wish to feel the desolation and despair of those days again. I pulled the shutters closed once more and went out, closing the door behind me.
When I turned to go down the steps, Eco stood before me.
My heart stopped; I did not breathe. I looked into her inscrutable Indian face. Her black eyes were like jet, and lights sparkled in their depths. For a long moment we stared at each other. At last she spoke.