A Lovers' Tale by Maurice Hewlett

Stanvor Slimlegs tended Berse night and day, and only slept when he slept -- which was not often, because he had fever and was light-headed with it, and wandered in his wits. She grew very thin and looked more than her age; her eyes grew larger and lighter, as if they would absorb danger from all about before it could get at Berse. But she never failed, and felt sure that she was not tired. From the first Stangerd had withdrawn herself and taken no part in the issue of the quarrel -- though she herself hardly knew why. Her first thought when she heard of the mishap was one of anger against her husband. "I offered myself to save him from this. He would not let me go with him. On his head be it. I know very well what I can do with men, and what I am worth. He thought he knew better -- and this is the end of it. " So she sat fuming while they were bringing him in, and would not go to see him. Stanvor had come to her to say that he was put to bed, and that he had asked where she was. "Well," she had replied, "and you told him, I suppose? " Yes, Stanvor said, she had told him. "And did he ask you to come and fetch me? " Stangerd wanted to know. Stanvor said No, he did not ask in so many words. "Let him ask, then," Stangerd said. "He is not slow to seek what he wants."

Stanvor, who was very grave, said that the wound was bitter. "He is slit from the buttock to the knee. He may limp till his death-day."