"Have I ever been in this place before? Have I ever seen your face? Has something dreadful happened? Tell me," she entreated, gazing with agitation into the calm eyes that looked down into hers.
"I cannot tell thee whether thee has ever seen us before, but we have seen thee so much for a few days that we feel like old friends," said Dorothea, pressing the hand she held, and smiling.
Pepeeta's eyes wandered about the room restlessly for a moment, and then some dim remembrance of the past came back.
"Did I come here in a great storm?" she asked.
"Thee did, indeed. The night was wild and cold."
"Did I fall on the threshold?"
"Upon the very threshold, and let us thank God for that, because if thee had fallen at the gate or in the path we should never have heard thee."
Pepeeta struggled to a sitting posture as her memory clarified, fixed her wide open eyes upon Dorothea and asked, pathetically, "Where is he?"
"I do not know who thee means," said Dorothea, laying her hand on the invalid's shoulders and trying gently to push her back upon her pillow.
"David!" she exclaimed, "David. Tell me if you know, for it seems to me I shall die if I do not hear."