Ailsa turned toward the barns and hurried across the trampled sod.
Through the half light within she peered about her, moving carefully among the wounded stretched out on the fragrant hay.
Colonel Arran lay alone in the light of a window high under the eaves.
"Oh, here you are!" she said gaily. "I hear most most splendid things about you. I—" she stopped short, appalled at the terrible change that was coming over his face.
"I want to see—Phil—" he whispered.
"Yes—yes, I will find him," she said soothingly; "I will go immediately and find him."
His head was moving slowly, monotonously, from side to side.
"I want to see my boy," he murmured. "He is my son. I wish you to know it—my only son."
He lifted his brilliant eyes to Ailsa.
Twice he strove to speak, and could not, and she watched him, stunned.