A knock came at the door and Miss Alice stepped in, pale as a sheet.

"What is it?" Neil asked.

Alice hesitated, begun, paused, stepped forward holding out a letter. She had another, opened, in her other hand.

Neil opened the letter, still sitting on the bed.

Christy looked from Alice's ashen face to Neil's stony expression. It could only be one of two things.

Neil folded the letter back up, put it in the envelope. "I'm not going."

"There may not be another chance."

"Christy's fighting a post-operative infection. I cannot leave."

Alice inhaled deeply, as if trying to breath in strength. "I will leave this afternoon."

"Of course." Neil nodded, stood up and shoved the letter in his pocket.

Alice left.

Christy waited, saying nothing to Neil's turned back. She leaned back into the pillows, feeling hot again. Her head ached and throbbed. Talking to Neil had been a sweet distraction but now she felt every discomfort. She put her hand to her damp forehead, squeezed her temples.

"What's wrong?"

She opened her eyes wide and smiled, trying to be reassuring. "I'm okay – just hot."

His eyes demanded the complete truth.

"My head aches... and my chest."

He took her temperature again, then gave her another dose of laudanum.

She swallowed it, squinted, then washed it down with water.

Neil took the glass and refilled it.

She watched him. "Are you certain?"

He looked out the window. "There's nothing I can do for Margaret now. It's too late for her – for me."

"You might regret..."

"I have enough regrets – leaving now would only add to them."

"How?"

"If anything happened to you I'd never... but not only that." He sighed, paced, "I have too much of her voice in my head. She haunts me." He stopped, sat down on the side of the bed, but didn't look at Christy. "I can't... I just can't."

She put a hand over his.

"I'm not strong enough."

"She has hurt you over and over. Of course you don't want to be vulnerable again. That doesn't make you weak."

"She's dying. A sense of duty might have made me go. And the ugly truth is, I'm glad of the excuse not to. What kind of man am I, to be glad of that?"

"No one should have to go through what you've been through. I'd tell you not to be so hard on yourself – but I know you better than that."

"I am not innocent in all of this."

"Neither are you solely to blame. Perfection, as Miss Alice so likes to remind me, belongs to God alone. We are human – we make mistakes." She squeezed his hand, "We hurt the people we love." The Laudanum was beginning to take effect.

He sighed. "I think I've forgiven her, and then I find I haven't. How many times?" He stood up. "I want to forget, to be free of her. But how can I wish it?"

"Your feelings are natural. No one could blame you, Neil."

"I manage it." He smiled wryly. "How are you feeling?"

"Talking is distracting – but I feel better. The medicine is working."

"Good. You should rest, not spend your energy trying to help this..."

"It pains me to see you hurt. I cannot simply opt out, nor do I wish to."

He looked at her, the bandages he'd tied, bruises peaking from the edges, her glistening forehead and red cheeks, her big eyes, full of compassion. "Forgive me."

"Forgive what?"

"You've been hurt by this. I've hurt you. I've not meant to."

"That makes all the difference."

"Really?"

She nodded. "You're forgiven."

The words, so little really, made a remarkable difference. He felt lighter. Margaret blamed him, and Alice too, undoubtedly. But Christy had forgiven him. "Thank you."

She smiled and wriggled.

"You're not comfortable."

"Not really, but then I was shot."

"Don't remind me." He helped her to sit and removed the pillows, rearranging them till they were just right. "Do you think you could sleep?"

She nodded, the laudanum having it's full effect now. "I'm glad you're staying. It's selfish of me, but I'm glad you're staying."

"You are the least selfish person I know." He kissed her forehead. "Close your eyes. I'll be right here."

Once Alice had packed she returned to Christy's room. Neil left them alone, his first break all day.

"I don't know how long I'll be away." Alice clasped her hands together.

"Of course – don't worry about us. I am in good hands and David will have everything in hand."

"I know." She sat down on the side of Christy's bed. "I will still worry about thee." She stroked her cheek. "But I will turn my worries to prayers and trust you to God's care, as well as Neil's."

"I hope... there is hope."

Alice shook her head, "There is hope – but there is also an end. She has pneumonia and tuberculosis." She sighed, "I hope... I hope for an end to suffering, for her, and for us. I hope she will forgive me, and that I can finally, once and for all, forgive her. But maybe that's not how forgiveness works."

Christy took her hand. "You'll be in my prayers. Doctor MacNeil won't let me move for weeks, no doubt. I'll have plenty of time for prayers."

"And you will be in mine." Alice stood and kissed Christy's forehead. "Be well, my dear girl." She left, meeting Neil in he hall outside.

Christy couldn't help but overhear their brief conversation:

"I will send word." Alice said.

"I have to stay."

"I understand – I do. We cannot lose them both."

Silence. "Tell her I'm sorry I wasn't... enough."

A minute later Alice's footsteps on the stairs faded away and Neil came back in, almost composed.

Christy watched him cross to the window. "Are you alright?" She asked.

He nodded. "Rest, Christy."

She woke again at dusk, in need of another dose of medicine. Neil was asleep in the chair. The bottle was on her bedside table so she carefully poured herself a spoonful, willing her hands to be steady. She washed it down with water and lay back. She was wide awake, and neither hot nor cold. Smiling, she turned her head to watch Neil sleep. He looked so peaceful. It was strange to see him so relaxed. Give him peace, Lord. Somehow, let him find peace.

He stirred and caught her staring at him. Wiping his face, he sat upright. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I'm fine. You need to sleep."

He stood up. "Are you sure you don't want something for the pain?"

"Oh, I... well I didn't want to wake you so I took some already. You looked like you needed the sleep."

"How much did you take?"

"Just one spoonful – the same as you give me. I'm okay, Neil."

He sighed heavily.

"Have you laid down since Saturday?"

"Yes."

"And you slept?"

He looked at her, a smile tugging at his lips said that he'd been caught out. "Not while I was lying down."

She waited for him to explain.

"Don't worry about me." He stood at the sound of horse-hooves falling on hard mud.

"Who is it?"

"I Can't see – but I can guess." He smiled at her. "I can see where you get your determination from."

"My parents?" She grinned.

"I'll be right back." He virtually skipped out the door.

She could hear their muffled questions, the words hidden from her but their tones of voice were clear. As were the foot-falls on the stairs.

Her mother was first through the door.

"Oh, my darling girl! I was so afraid for you. How are you feeling?"

"Better."

Her father stepped through the door, leaning on his cane. "That is the best news I've every heard."

"Daddy." Christy held out her hand and he hobbled to her, grasping her hand with all the force he'd rather have put into an embrace.

Neil followed him into the room, but stood back.

Mrs Huddleston didn't know where to begin. "When we heard – oh – how did you ever end up... no, not now. We're just glad you're alright. Doctor MacNeil, we owe you so much."

"No thanks are necessary."

"Tell us what happened." Mr Huddleston put a quietening hand on his wife's arm.

"Miss Huddleston was trying to protect Alice Henderson, who was trying to protect..." the doctor's voice trailed off, uncertain how Christy's parents would respond to the full story.

"A negro man, Daddy. They were trying to scare him away. It was an accident."

"It was a lynching." Her father saw right through their narrative. "You were there, Doctor?"

"I was – I was further away. But, yes."

"There is nothing anyone could have done. And I'm going to be fine, aren't I Neil?"

"I think so. You need to be careful, Miss Huddleston." He turned to her father. "She has had a post-operative infection."

"The fever's gone." Christy interrupted. "I'm really feeling much better."

Neil looked at her skeptically, knowing how she would want to prove to her parents that she wasn't in imminent danger, that Cutter Gap wasn't all bad. Taking her temperature, he took advantage of her forced silence to fill in some of the story.

"I operated immediately, removed the bullet. She has a fractured rib and the fracture punctured her lung. It sounds worse than it is, but she's been lucky."

"I'b hara goo lactar." Christy tried to speak.

Neil raised his eyebrows at her, silently insisting on her cooperation.

She looked up at him wide-eyed and innocent.

"We moved her back here yesterday and she's been fighting an infection since last night." He removed the thermometer from her mouth. "A fight she seems to have won."

Christy smiled up at him. "I told you."

"Excuse me for being – what was it you said? A goo lactar?"

"You're excused."

Julia Huddleston sighed. "Well, I've never been so relieved in my life to hear you speaking out of turn."

Christy laughed then cringed at the pain laughing caused.

Neil sent her a cautious glance. "There will be pain for several weeks. You're going to need to be very careful. If those stitches pull, or your lung doesn't heal, then infection would be nigh inevitable. You're not going to like it, but you're not going anywhere for a while yet."

She nodded.

"So that's what it takes to stop you in your tracks." Mr Huddleston caressed his daughter's face and kissed her forehead. "How long till we can take her home, doctor?"

"I can't say. But if the infection is really cleared up then perhaps in a week."

"Wait – I don't want to leave." Christy interrupted.

"You need to come home, Christy." Her mother took her hand, "Get well, and rest, then make a decision about the future."

She gritted her teeth and forced a smile. "Tell me all the news from home." She abruptly changed the subject.

Neil bowed out of the room soon after.

After an hour's animated conversation, Christy was beginning to feel weary. Ruby Mae knocked timidly at the door with a tray of food.

"Come in Ruby Mae, you remember my mother and father." Christy smiled at her encouragingly.

"Good evening. I made some supper, if ye'd care to take some. I cen bring up more on trays or would ye come down to the table."

"We can come downstairs," William spoke up, having noticed Christy was getting tired.

Julia stood up, "Will Doctor MacNeil be joining us?"

"He went home – said he'd be back later tonight. Needed some supplies, I reckon. Been here eversince it happened."

Christy took the offered tray of food and drink and smiled at the departing guests, wanting no one to worry about her. Shaking off the thought that she'd be leaving soon, she tucked into her food. She got about half way through it before she gave into the battle against her heavy eyelids, pushed the tray aside and went to sleep.

NB: The title of this chapter comes from Oscar Wilde's poem, The Ballad of Reading Gaol.