"But she is not seriously hurt?" cried the man, almost gasping for breath.
"No, I guess not; only kinder worn out. The yarb tea has done her a sight of good."
The stranger looked at her eagerly as she spoke. A dozen questions seemed trembling on his lips; but he restrained them, only saying, in a voice that would tremble in spite of his efforts,
"Then you are certain that she is out of danger?"
"Sartin, of course. She'll be chirk as a bird to-morrow."
The stranger sat down in the chair which the dame offered while she was speaking. A bowl of warm bread and milk stood on the kitchen hearth, close by the fire. Goody Brown took it up.
"I've got to take this in, for she's getting hungry, but I won't be gone more'n a minute."
With this half apology, the good woman opened a side door and went into Barbara Stafford's room. The man looked after her with eyes full of impatient yearning. He rose from his chair and stole softly toward the door, listening; but no sound answered his expectations, and he had scarcely returned to his seat when Goody Brown came back with the bowl of bread and milk in her hand. She sat it down in the hearth, and turning to her visitor, said, in a half whisper,
"She's sound asleep."
"Madam," said the traveller, "will you give me a cup of milk? I have been so long at sea—"