I WANT LADYBIRD.
"So free we seem; so fettered fast we are."
—Browning.
A low sun was gilding the hill-tops when two doolies, borne by sturdy kahars and escorted by Wyndham and Mackay, passed between the gate-posts of Desmond's bungalow. Honor stood with Evelyn at the head of the verandah steps; but as the kahars halted, and the officers prepared to dismount, she moved back a space, leaving her to welcome her husband alone.
The blood ebbed from Evelyn's face as she watched Theo mount the steps, slowly, uncertainly, supported on either side by Wyndham and the doctor—he who, in normal circumstances, would have cleared them at a bound and taken her in his arms. His appearance alone struck terror into her heart. Was this the splendid-looking husband who had ridden away full of life and energy,—this strange seeming man, whose face was disfigured and more than half-hidden by an unsightly bandage and a broad green shade; whose empty coat-sleeve, slashed and blood-stained, suggested too vividly the condition of the arm strapped into place beneath?
It was all she could do not to shrink back instinctively when the men moved aside, as Honor had done, to afford husband and wife some small measure of privacy, and Theo held out his hand.
"They've sent me back rather the worse for wear, Ladybird," he said, with a smile; "but Mackay will put the pieces together in good time."
"Oh, Theo—I hope so!—It's dreadful to see you—like that."
The hand she surrendered to him was cold as ice; and the attempt at welcome in her voice was checked by a paralysing fear and constraint. Thirty-six hours of severe pain in body and mind had failed to break his spirit; but the thing was achieved by a dozen words from his wife. He knew now what to expect from her; and for the moment he was stricken speechless.
"I am so—sorry," she murmured, "about——"