Jinny, speechless with joy, ran down the slope and flung herself upon her husband. His face was pale and all astir with emotion.
"Jinny," he said, when at length she allowed him to speak--"Jinny, _she_ saved me."
Jinny turned to Sally. "Eh, how can I ever thank you," she cried brokenly. "You saved my 'usband arter all. I don't know how to thank you."
Sally looked round with a fierce light in her eyes. "Ye needn't thank me--I didn't save him for you."
"I'm sure," said John, in a voice husky with emotion, "I don't know what to say mysel'--it is more than I could have expected, that you should risk your life for my sake."
"'Twasn't for your sake neither then," said Sally still fiercely.
"Then, in the name of fortune! why did you do it?" he ejaculated.
She turned away, the water dripping from her at every step, and bounded up the slope with the erect carriage and springing gait which John remembered of old.
The fisherman retired somewhat disconsolately, and husband and wife, still palpitating, walked slowly away together; while "Golden Sally," once more standing aloft on her sandy pinnacle, wrung the moisture out of her yellow hair.
Doctor Craddock rode slowly along the grassy track which led from Thornleigh to Little Upton, and as he rode he smiled to himself. Though he had been settled for more than a dozen years in this quiet corner of Lancashire, his Southern mind had not yet become accustomed to the idiosyncrasies of his North Country patients. He had just been to see old Robert Wainwright, who was suffering from an acute attack of gout in his right foot, and who was, in consequence, unapproachable in every sense of the word, answering the Doctor's questions only by an unintelligible growl or an impatient jerk of the head. Moreover, on being informed that he must not expect to set foot to the ground for several days more, he had emitted a kind of incredulous roar, and had announced his opinion that his medical adviser was a gradely fool. Poor Mrs. Wainwright had subsequently apologised for her lord's shortness of temper, explaining in deprecating tones that he was apt to be took that way sometimes; adding that he had been moiderin ever sin' mornin' about Club Day.
"He reckons he's th' owdest member, ye know. Him an' Martin Tyrer, of Little Upton, is mich of an age, an' they'n walked same number of times--they're a bit jealous one o' th' t'other an' our Gaffer reckons if he bides awhoam, owd Martin 'ull be castin' up at him, an' sayin' he's beat him."