Joseph tried to answer her. The words came slowly from his lips. He articulated with difficulty, and his voice was strange to his own ears.
"Have I been ill long?"
"For near ten days, sir, you have lain at death's door. The doctor from Penmaenbach said that you would surely die. But the Teacher knew that you would not. And oh, and oh, woe's the day when you came here!"
With a sudden convulsive movement, the old lady threw her hands up into the air, and then burst into a passion of weeping.
Joseph had heard her with a languid interest. His question was answered; he knew now exactly what had happened, but he was still too weak and weary for anything to have much effect upon him. Yet the sudden tears and the curious words of the kindly old dame troubled him.
"I am sorry," he said faintly. "I know that I must have been a great trouble to you. But I had no idea I should fall ill again."
For answer she stooped over and kissed him upon the forehead.
"Trouble!" she cried, through her tears. "That's no word to say to me. I spoke hastily, and what I said I said wrongly. It was the Teacher that was in my mind. But it is all the will of the Lord to Whom all must bow—you'll take your medicine now, if you please."
So she ended, with a sudden descent from high matters to the practical occupations of the ministering angel.
Joseph drank the potion which the old lady held to his lips. Her arm was round his head as she raised it, her brown, tear-stained face was close to his.