She watched his steps. His face was pale, and the pallor was the more observable from the darkness of his hair. ‘I think,’ said he, forcing a smile, ‘I must beg a little support.’
She went without hesitation to his side, and he put his arm in hers. He had not only lost much blood, but had been bruised and severely shaken, and was not certain of his steps. Barbara was afraid, in crossing the hall, lest he should fall on the stone floor. She disengaged his hand, put her arm about his waist, bade him lean on her shoulder. How strong she seemed!
‘Can you get on now?’ she asked, looking up. His deep eyes met her.
‘I could get on for ever thus,’ he answered.
She flushed scarlet.
‘I dislike such speeches,’ she said; and disengaged herself from him. Whilst her arm was about him her hand had felt the beating of his heart.
She conducted him to a bench in the garden near a bed of stocks, where the bees were busy.
‘How beautiful the world looks when one has not seen it for many days!’ he said.
‘Yes, there is a good shear of hay, saved in splendid order.’
‘When a child is born into the world there is always a gathering, and a festival to greet it. I am born anew into the beautiful world to-day. I am on the threshold of a new life, and you have nursed me into it. Am I too presumptuous if I ask you to sit here a very little while, and welcome me into it? That will be a festival indeed.’