She sat up, wide-eyed, startled, the picture of amazement and it came over me that she was no peasant woman, but a lady.
"Who are you?" she demanded, supporting herself on one elbow. "I do not know you; what are you doing here?"
"I have been helping to nurse you," I said. "You have been ill a long time and have needed much care. Lie down; you will hinder your recovery if you exert yourself too soon."
She lay back, but propped herself up on her pillows, and in no weak voice insisted on knowing who I was.
At that instant Agathemer entered. He, far more diplomatic than I, took charge of the situation. The woman, instead of losing consciousness again at once, as I expected, appeared possessed of much more strength than anyone would have anticipated and asked searching questions.
Agathemer, tactfully but without any attempt at beating about the bush, told her the whole truth, as to her illness, our finding her alone with the two children, our care of her, and the length of our stay. He said afterwards that he hoped the shock would cure her.
"Am I to understand you to say," she asked, "that I have been in this bed since the middle of the autumn and that it is now almost spring?"
"Just that," said Agathemer simply.
"And that you two men have been, practically, in possession of this entire place all that time?"
"That is true also," I said.