“I’m glad to see ye, Friend Silvia,” he said gently. “Will ye not come and sit by me, and take a little wine?”

She glanced to and fro in indecision, but then nodded abruptly and came and sat by his bed, though she didn’t meet his eyes until he took her hand in his.

They sat, he propped up on his pillows and she on her stool, and looked at each other for some moments.

“Thee does not seem in much better case than thee did when last I saw thee, Friend,” she said at last. Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat.

“Ach,” he said comfortably, “I’ll do. It’s no but a few drops of blood spilled. Are your wee lassies well?”

At last she smiled, though tremulously.

“They are awash in pancakes with butter and honey,” she said. “I expect they will have burst themselves by now.” She hesitated for a moment, but then burst out herself, “I cannot thank thee enough, Friend, for sending thy nephew to me. Has he told thee of—of the straits in which he found us?”

“No,” Jamie said mildly. “Does it matter? Ye took me in without question and tended me—will ye not let me do the same for you?”

A dull red washed her face and she looked down at her battered shoes. The side of one had come unstitched and he could see her grimy little toe. She would have taken back her hand, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Thee means …”

“I mean that I offer ye the succor and refuge of my home, just as ye did for me. Of course, ye rubbed hellfire into my backside, too, and I dinna think ye require any such service, thank God. But I hope that ye might find the Ridge pleasant, and if so, I should be honored if ye would consent to live among us.”

The red burned more fiercely.

“I could not. I—I should be a scandal to thy tenants.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Were ye planning to get up in Meeting and tell everyone what ye were obliged to do to save your bairns from starvin’?”

She gaped at him.

“Meeting? There are Friends here?” She looked as though she wanted to stand up and run, and he tightened his grasp a little.

“Just Rachel,” he assured her. “But we do have a Meeting House, and she’s there for Meeting on First Day with anyone who chooses to join her. She isna going to be shocked, is she?”

The flush faded slightly from her thin cheeks.

“No,” she admitted, and a tiny, rueful smile touched her lips. “She already knows the worst. So does thy nephew, thy sister, all of Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, Joseph Brant, and any number of Mohawk Indians.”

“Well, then,” he said, and letting go of her hand, patted it. “Thee has come home, Friend.”