"Don't I know it, my girl? You're real grit, and would give more and better than money for the little uns and me. How are they all? You're not much for kissing, but mind you give 'em a kiss apiece for daddy. They'll miss me, I know, poor things!" And a tremble came into Adam's voice as he named his children. It was from him that after babyhood, they received the greatest tenderness and most caresses.
"I will, Adam, and they shall have more than one, both for their daddy and from their mother. And oh, my dear lad, forgive me for my contrary ways many a time, and specially this morning. You know, I wouldn't look or speak, and when our little Tom ran in and said you were killed, I thought I should ha' died when I minded how I'd been so stunt with you, and wouldn't speak back."
"Forgive you, Maggie! Of course I did, before you asked me. I know how it is when you feel tired, and worried with all the toiling and moiling with house, and bairns, and me. And you none so well able just now."
Margaret's tears had begun to flow at the thought of what she had felt during those awful moments when she never hoped to see Adam again in life.
And the nurse, who had been looking on, but out of ear-shot, now thought it time to interfere, lest her patient should be over-excited.
"You'll have to bid him good-bye now," said she. "You may trust him to us, and we'll have him ready to come home as soon as ever we can. We don't keep any of our patients longer than we can help. It is a pleasure to send them home looking and feeling different from what they do when they come to us."
The nurse's confident tone and hopeful words gladdened Margaret, and she thanked her for them.
Adam had heard from Richard Evans that his niece had gone to offer help without waiting to be asked; but, remembering Margaret's past treatment of the girl, the knowledge hardly gave him the comfort it was intended to do. He was almost afraid to mention Sarah's name, lest his wife should manifest the old spirit, but he soon found that fears on this head were groundless.
As Margaret bent over him to take a loving farewell, she whispered, "Sarah Evans came to me straight, as soon as ever she knew of my trouble. I felt so 'shamed of the way I'd behaved, that I could hardly look her in the face. But oh, Adam! You and Sarah are teaching me that there's something in religion. It makes folks do many a thing that they couldn't do without it. And the seeing what it does in them that have it, makes me want to be good too."
The nurse was again about to admonish Margaret to cut short her leave-taking, but the light on Adam's face convinced her that, whatever those lingering last words might be, they were giving pleasure to her patient, and she turned away, not to interrupt the farewell between husband and wife.