But on his wife's face there remained a strange fixed smile, and her eyes, opening slowly, began to follow him about wistfully, and seemed somehow to beckon him. Then with infinite care Yabel removed his wife's outer garments, cutting that which would not loosen otherwise, till the stricken woman reposed at ease beneath the coverlet.
"Now, Jen," he said, "I maun ride to the town for a doctor. Will I tell Allison Brown to come and look after you?"
The wistful following eyes expressed neither yea nor nay.
"Then will I send in Jean Murray frae the Boreland?"
The eyes were still indifferent. There was no desire for the help of any of human kind in the stricken woman's heart.
Her husband watched her keenly.
"Or wad ye like Martha Yeatman ower frae the Glen?"
Then all suddenly the dull eyes flashed, glowed, almost flamed, so fierce was the "No" that was in them.
Yabel shut down his upper lip upon his nether. He nodded his head.
"Then I will bring the doctor, and nurse you mysel'," he answered. But within him he said: "So it was Martha o' the Glen. For this thing will I reckon with Martha Yeatman."