Fourteen
The man called Jamie spent the night, and the two days following, at
the cottage of the fisherman. This had in no way been planned. But he
had woken trembling and feverish, and with a deep cough that would not
be silenced. It was as if only now, when it had reached a safe haven,
that his body could tell him of its many ills and deprivations.
The old man insisted that he remain in bed, at least until the high
fever broke. As to thoughts of his own safety, he had none; and with
the heavy overcast and clinging fog he deemed it prudent, and a
necessary risk, to keep him from the cold and damp of out-of-doors.
The younger man at length agreed, not because it seemed wise, but
because it was inevitable. He had no choice. Once so healthy and
robust, he now felt a dull ache in the very marrow of his bones, and a
chill that would not be abated. So he remained in bed, and with forced
patience, passed the two hard days.
But on the succeeding morning---perhaps two hours before Mary fled in
panic from the hut---he felt again the deep restlessness which had
troubled him three days before.
Pages:
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117