little out of the shadow and the last of
the afternoon sun touched its edges. Westboro' lurched towards the
wall. "Send this man away," he commanded.

"He is deaf, Cecil, as the stones." But at her husband's face she
motioned to Mellon: "Stand away a bit. His Grace wants to rest on the
wall. I'll call you."

With his wife's arms about him, Westboro' leaned on the garden wall,
his ashen face lifted to her.

"I've only one arm," he said. He put it around her and he drew her
down as close to him as he could. He felt her face warm against his,
wet against his with tears. As the Duke, who, Bulstrode said, was no
lover, kissed his wife, the dial seemed to sing its motto aloud.

"You _were_ coming to me?" he breathed. "Do you forgive me? ... Then,"
said Westboro', satisfied by what he heard, "I'm cured. I love you--I
love you."

The woman could not find her voice, but as she held him she was the
warmest, sweetest prop that ever a wounded man leaned upon. After a
few seconds she helped him to rise, helped him on, and he found his
balance and his equilibrium to be very wonderful under the
circumstances, and managed to reach the door-sill. Mellon and the
maids were there, and as the Duchess passed in, leading her husband,
she bade them send for a doctor as fast as they could and to send at
once for Bulstrode at the castle.

Westboro's wound had become a sort of intoxication to him, and he
assured her, "I'll be all right in an hour. I need no one but you;
send them all away, all away."

He had never commanded her before, he had let her rule him, he had been
indifferent to her disobedience. But now she did what he bade her, and
led him to the drawing-room, suddenly repossessed of all its old charm;
led him to the lounge, where he sank down. Here, by his side, she gave
him stimulants and bathed his head and hands, waiting for the doctor to
come; and Westboro', like his ancestors who had fought in the King's
wars, bore up like a man with no resemblance whatsoever to the amorous
cavalier whose curls had met the dust of the road for love of Queen
Elizabeth.

The Duchess found him that best of all things--very much of a man, and
knew that he was hers. And he, more wild with love for her than
suffering physical pain, found her a woman and knew that she loved him
and that she was his.

The house, so deserted and desolate an hour ago, grew fresh, warm, and
rosy as over the west meadows the sunset, gilding the wa