"Not now. Later. Put everything you did in words. And then—"
"I thought you were dying." She drew in a long, sighing breath.
"And you kissed me. I have a right to know, for I missed them all—"
"I did, I did," she cried vehemently. "A hundred times I kissed you. I had called my promise back from God—and I dared it. I wasn't ashamed. I would have done it if all the mountain side had been there to see—but afterwards—when that strange doctor from Farington came, and I knew he must uncover you and find my torn dress around you—somehow, then I felt I didn't want for him to look at me, and I was glad to go away."
"Do you want to know what he said when he saw it? 'Whoever did this kept you alive, young man.' So you see how you are my beautiful bringer of good. You are—Oh, I have only one arm now. I am at a disadvantage. When I can stand on my feet, I will pay them all back—those kisses you threw away on me then. We shan't need words then, dearest. I'll teach you the sweet lesson. Your arms tremble; they are tired, dear. Could you let your head rest here and sleep as you did the other day? To think how I woke and found you beside me sleeping—"
"Let me go now. I have things I ought to do for you."
"Not yet. I have things I must say to you."
"Please, Doctor Thryng."
"My name is David. You must call me by it."