desden.

'Won't you give a last look and see if it is all right?'

Alice's weak, pretty face cleared, as she went off to give a final
survey to Desmond's room. She admitted that Elizabeth had been
'nice' that day, and all the days before. Perhaps she had been
hasty.

Lights among the distant trees! Elizabeth thought of the boy who had
gone out from that door, two months before, in the charm and beauty
of his young manhood. What wreck was it they were bringing back?

Then the remembrance stabbed her of that curt note from France--of
what Mrs. Gaddesden had said. She withdrew into the background. With
all the rest to help, she would not be wanted. Yes, she had been too
masterful, too prominent.

Two motors appeared, the ambulance motor behind another. They drew
up at the side door leading direct through a small lobby to the
library, and the Squire, his eldest son, and Captain Chicksands
stepped out--then Pamela.

Pamela ran up to her sister. The girl's eyes were red with crying,
but she was composed.

'On the whole, he has borne the journey well. Where is Miss
Bremerton?'

Elizabeth, hearing her name, emerged from the shadow in which she
was standing. To her astonishment Pamela threw an arm round her neck
and kissed her.

'Is everything ready?'

'Everything. Will you come and see?'

'Yes. They won't want us here.'

For the lobby was small; and surgeon and nurses were already
standing beside the open door of the ambulance, the surgeon giving
directions to the stretcher-bearers of the estate who had been
waiting.

Pamela looked at the bed, the nurses' table, the bare boards, the
flowers. Her face worked pitifully. She turned to Elizabeth, who
caught her in her arms.

'Oh, I am glad you have put the picture away!'

One deep sob, and she recovered herself.

'He's not much disfigured,' she murmured, 'only a cut on the
forehead. Most of the journey he has been quite cheerful. That was
the morphia. But he's tired now. They're coming in.'

But it was the Squire who entered--asking peremptorily for Miss
Bremerton.

The well-known voice struck some profound response in Elizabeth. She
turned to him. How changed, how haggard, was the aspect!

'Martin--that's the surgeon we've brought with us--wants something
from Fallerton at once. Renshaw's here, but he can't be spared for
telephoning. Come, please!'

But before she could pass through the door, it was filled by a
procession. The stretcher came through,