"I didn't know she was sick really, Miner. I thought she was just play actin' same as I asked her to."
And Miner nodded. "My fault. I suspicioned your ignorance, but I ain't been able to break it. Em'ly told me of your letter soon as it come. She hadn't been feelin' any too well before then, though she'd sort 'er been hidin' it, and afterward she kep' a-gettin' worse and worse."
When finally they had come near the cabin, Ambrose sat down on the selfsame stump where he had waited so long for Emily on the afternoon of their first meeting, and since he would not go inside the house Miner went in without him, promising to bring back news. However, several hours passed and Miner did not return; Ambrose saw Doctor Webb leave the house, stay away half an hour and then go back into it and remain there. Then afterward Brother Bibbs followed him in, and Mrs. Webb and a dozen or more Pennyroyal townsfolk appeared clustering in a hushed group near the little schoolhouse door.
Nevertheless the waiting time did not seem long to Ambrose Thompson, since he was living over every moment he had ever spent with Emily, hearing the sound of her laughter, feeling the touch of her hand over his, and then remembering how he had wondered in the days since his surrender whether it would not have been easier for him to have given her up through death.
It was dusk when Miner laid his hand on Ambrose's arm; he had not seen the little man's approach.
"It's past, the crisis," Miner said huskily; "she's better and has been askin' for you."
Then Ambrose rose, but he didn't move in the direction of the cabin; instead, he began running toward home, Miner having difficulty in keeping up with him. And it was hearing Miner's hard breathing behind that finally made him slow up.
"I couldn't 'a' gone to her, Miner," he explained. "Can't you see, ef I should 'a' seen her lyin' there so white and helpless I couldn't 'a' helped takin' her in my arms and tellin' her I loved her. No man kin bear it when it looks like the woman he loves is needin' him."