But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. I found him lying like this, the bleeding partly stopped by this scarf, else he had been dead by now. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction. ’ ‘Poor sort of a mother,’ Martha said with bitterness. ” He said to her, quite unsure of whether or not he was dreaming. “I did it for love of you,” he said. “If only I could afford another!” she thought regretfully.
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