He had not walked with her for many yards before he saw her exposed condition. Her hair was flying in frozen tresses about her unshawled bosom, and no outer covering protected her from the chill blast.
‘Mrs. Wallwork,‘ said he, ‘you ought not to be crossing the moors a night like this, uncovered as you are. You are tempting Nature to do her worst with you, you know.’
‘Ne'er heed me, doctor. It's mi lad yon aw want yo' to heed. I shall be all reet if he's nobbud reet. I con walk faster if yo' con,’ and so saying, the jaded woman sprang, like a stung horse, under the spur of love.
‘But I have two lives to think of,’ replied Dr. Hale, ‘both mother's and son's.’
‘Mine's naught, doctor, when he's i' danger. Who bothers their yeds abaat theirsels when them as they care more for are i' need? Let's hurry up, doctor.’
And again she sprang forward, to struggle with renewed effort through the yielding snow. Then, turning towards her companion, she cried:
‘Where wur he hurt, doctor? Did they tell yo'?’
But the doctor was silent.
Seizing his arm with eager grip, she continued: