The Long Portage by Harold Bindloss

Some weeks had passed since the accident and Lisle was lying one afternoon on a couch near a window of Nasmyth's sitting-room. Two or three Canadian newspapers lay on the floor and he held a few letters in one hand. The prospect outside was cheerless -- a stretch of leaden-colored moor running back into a lowering sky, with a sweep of fir wood that had lost all distinctive coloring in the foreground. He was gazing at it moodily when Millicent came in. His face brightened at the sight of her, and he raised himself awkwardly with his uninjured arm, but she shook her head at him in reproof.

"You had orders to keep as quiet as possible for some time yet. Lie down again!"