'Your betrothed!'
'Ma what?'
'Christina, her own self, told me. So there you are, young man!'
Macgregor's head wagged feebly on the pillow. 'There's a bonny
mix-up somewhaur,' he said; 'it was Wullie saved ma life.' Then,
with an effort--'When did ye see her?'
'Now understand, Macgregor, there must be no excitement. You must
keep calm. I am doing my best to break it gently. H'm, h'm! As a
matter of fac', I seen--saw--your fiancy about ten minutes ago.
She is without!'
'Wi'oot what?'
'She is in an adjacent apartment.'
'Here?'
'I am going to despatch her to you now,' said Aunt Purdie, enjoying
herself thoroughly. 'But mind!--no deleterious excitement!' She
rose with a look on her gaunt face which he had never seen before.
'Aunt Purdie,' he whispered, 'did she _want_ to come?'
'My dear nephew, without exaggeration I may say that she fairly
jamp--jumped--at my invitation! Well, I'll see you subsequently.'
'God bless ye,' he murmured, and closed his eyes till he felt she
had gone from the ward.
He knew when Christina came in, but did not look directly at her
till she was beside him. By that time she had controlled the
quiver at her mouth. And when he looked he realized that he had no
defence whatsoever in the Maggie affair. Nothing was left him but
love and regret.
She touched his hand and seated herself. 'I couldna help comin','
she said, smiling. 'Are ye feelin' better?'
'Oh, ay. But I maun tell ye the truth.'
'No a word, Mac, noo or ever. I'll no listen.'
'But it's a' nonsense aboot me savin' a comrade. Wullie Thomson
saved me. I canna think hoo ye heard sic a story, but it's got to
be stopped. An' though I'm terrible gled to see yer face again,
I'm vexed ye cam' a' that lang road thinkin' I was a hero. Still,
there's a chap in the next bed that's gaun to get a medal for----'
'We'll talk aboot it later,' she interrupted gently. 'But I'll
jist tell ye that a' I took the journey for was to see a lad that
was wounded. An' I think'--a faint laugh--'I've got a wound o' ma
ain.'
He sighed, his eyes on his ring. 'Ye had aye a kind heart,
Christina. I'm obleeged to ye for comin'. . . I wud like to tell
ye something--no as an excuse, for it wud be nae excuse, but jist
to get quit o' the thing--aboot the time when ye was in
Aberdeen----'
'Oh, never!'
'Jist that. Weel, I'll no bother ye,' he said, with hopeless
resignation. Next moment he was ashamed of himself. He must
change the subject. He actually smiled. 'Hoo did ye leave Miss
Tod? Still drinkin'?'
Christina may not have heard him. She was surveying the ward.
Macgregor's only near neighbour was apparently sound asleep, and
the only patient sitting up was intent on a game of draughts with a
nurse. But had all been awake and watching, she would still have
found a way.
She passed her handkerchief lightly across her eyes and put it in
her sleeve. Then with the least possible movement she knelt down
by the bedside.
'Christina!' he exclaimed under his breath, for her face was near
to his.
Her fingers went to the neck of her white blouse and drew out a
narrow black ribbon. From it hung, shining, the tiny wreckage of
her engagement ring.
'Mac, dear,' she whispered, 'can--can we no ha'e it mended?'