He carried the cloak flung over his shoulder and in readjusting
it dropped it to the floor, and she saw in the light of the door lamps
that his arm hung limp at his side and the gray cloth of his sleeve was
heavy and dark with blood. With a quick gesture she stooped and picked up
the cloak.
"Come! Come! This is all very dreadful--you must go to a physician at
once."
"My man and horse are waiting for me; the injury is nothing." But she
threw the cloak over his shoulders and led the way, across the veranda,
and out upon the walk.
"I do not need the doctor--not now. My man will care for me."
He started through the dark toward the outer wall, as though confused,
and she went before him toward the side entrance. He was aware of her
quick light step, of the soft rustle of her skirts, of a wish to send her
back, which his tongue could not voice; but he knew that it was sweet to
follow her leading. At the gate he took his bearings with a new assurance
and strength.
"It seems that I always appear to you in some miserable fashion--it is
preposterous for me to ask forgiveness.
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