SAD NEWS
WAR is not glorious. It is hideous! Awful! And I hope this will be the
very last war till the end of the world.
It is a long time since I have written in this diary, and I must go
back first to where I left off.
We had a very happy New Year's Eve. Gervas came over, but he wasn't
really himself till he came up into our schoolroom and had tea with us.
We were all to dine downstairs in the dining-room for a treat, even
Puff, and he was nearly off his head with delight. It is funny how fond
he and grandfather are of each other. If Puff can be in the same room
with him, he is perfectly happy.
Well, Gervas asked to come upstairs, for Aunt Isobel was going to give
him tea in the drawing-room, but I think she was rather relieved than
otherwise when we carried him off with us. In spite of having been to
the front, he seemed a boy to us still, and Denys is half a head taller
than he is.
How we talked! Chiefly about old times when we were in our dear old
Rectory home.
He chaffed Lynette, and played with Puff, and talked "shop" with Denys.
Denys had only come home the day before. He was just inclined—a tiny
bit—to put on airs, but Gervas stopped that by telling him of some
bounders in his regiment.
"You can always tell them by their 'swank,'" he said. "They've never
been gentlemen before, and don't know that the A B C of a soldier is
simplicity and humility."
And then he began to tell us little interesting bits about his life at
the front in the trenches.
He did not touch on the horrors, though Aylwin tried to make him. He
told us nice things about the French children, and animals, and old
people that they came across, and he told us of an old woman who was
living in her ruined cottage, and all her bits of furniture were broken
by shells, and she only had her garden left, but that was untouched.
And one Sunday morning, she stripped it of all her last flowers, and
took them to lay on some fresh soldiers' graves a little distance off.
"It is only my 'thank you' to the dear boys," she said to Gervas when
he asked her why she had done it.
I thought it was so sweet of her!
Gervas was better. He did not cough so much. He said he hoped he would
soon be well enough to go back to his regiment. But Miss Fawcett said
he would have to have at least six months more leave in England, only
she did not tell him that.
We talked over our Empire League, and laughed at some of our
recollections. And then he told us that he had seen Captain Rogers in
town.
"He seemed pretty sick—poor chap!—that he could do nothing, but I think
he is getting some clerk's job at the War Office."
"I should so like to see him again," I said. "He used to be so kind to
us, and it was he who put it into the boys' heads to start that Empire
League."
"Yes, he asked after you all. He said he had never met such an
entertaining lot as you were, either before or since his visit to
Lincolnshire. I remember the same thing struck me. You all convulsed
me—especially when you tried to be solemn."
"We're growing up now," I said with a sigh. "Denys has left school, and
in another year or two, I shall have done with lessons."
"Don't be grown-up too soon," Gervas said, looking at me with a little
smile. "I like you as you are."
"I know one thing," said Lynette in her eager impulsive way: "that I
don't mean to stop having fun when I'm grown-up. It's all nonsense to
be so stiff and starched! Look at Aunt Isobel! She's not able to move
her head round. She's like a poker!"
So we talked away, and were quite sorry when we had to dress for dinner.
Lynette and I wore some soft white silk dresses, with black sashes, for
we were still in mourning for father. The boys smartened themselves
up and Denys was in his first evening dress suit. He looked awfully
nice, we thought, but he had a good many pinches from us on his way
downstairs.
It was a splendid dinner, but we were just a family party, except that
Aunt Grisel came over and was amongst us. She seemed to make things
much more lively, and grandfather was in the best of humours, so that
before dinner was over we were all laughing and talking freely.
We had some games in the drawing-room afterwards, and a little music,
and then we all stayed up till twelve o'clock, and went outside on the
terrace and sang "Auld Lang Syne."
As we heard the stable clock strike twelve, we were very silent. And
all sorts of thoughts rushed through my mind. I looked up at the stars.
God seemed so near to us that it was quite easy to speak to Him, and I
asked that in the coming year He would help us all to remember father's
Charge.
Gervas put his hand on my shoulder and startled me.
"Come back from the clouds, Grisel. Your spirit is wanted here."
"It is here," I said with a little laugh, "but we have begun a new year
already, Gervas, and it brings solemn thoughts."
Gervas looked up into the sky.
"And the clash of arms is ringing out all over the world," he said. "I
sometimes feel it won't be over till the King comes into His own again."
"Oh, Gervas, do you feel that? If only it could be! If only we could
believe it!"
A little thrill came into my heart. Then I said:
"It would make us get ready, all of us, wouldn't it, Gervas, if we
really believed it?"
"It would indeed," he said.
And then one of the boys came up, and we said no more. But I have been
thinking about the Second Coming ever since. Why don't people talk
about it more? Perhaps they have forgotten that it is really bound to
come.
That was a very jolly time till Denys left us again, and then the
holidays soon came to an end, and lessons began, and things went on
pretty well as they did before.
One day Miss Douglas came over in great delight. She had heard from Pat
that he had been offered a commission in another Irish regiment. His
cousin wrote to her too, and said that Pat was getting on splendidly.
Everybody loved him, and he said he would make the best kind of
officer, for he would win the affection and confidence of all the men.
"So my wild laddie is going to do something yet," Miss Douglas said.
But I saw she had tears in her eyes as she spoke. We were awfully
glad to hear that Pat was a proper officer now. He was too good to be
anything else, and he was a born leader, we all agreed. Not quite so
wise as Denys, but always so lovable! I can quite imagine the soldiers
being ready to die for him.
And we all wrote a round robin to him of congratulations. Then, as time
went on, and country after country began to join in, and more and more
soldiers and guns were wanted, and greater numbers than ever were being
killed, we began almost to wish that Denys would not be in such a hurry
to go.
They were pushing them through Woolwich as fast as they could—Denys
thought he might be through at the end of a six months' training. And
of course we all pretended to be delighted. I think grandfather really
was. He was proud of Denys at last; he saw what a fine fellow he was,
and he liked to think that he would have a grandson fighting at the
front.
It was just before Easter; Miss Garton had gone home, and Aylwin had
come back again. I shall never forget the day. It was wild and stormy.
The sea was booming and roaring, and dashing over the rocks on the
beach with a sound like thunder. We were all in the schoolroom. Aylwin
and Lynette were making a small model of a flying machine. Aylwin is
still wild over air-ships. Puff was making a scrap-book for soldiers
in hospital, and I was sitting upon the window-sill knitting a pair of
mittens for Pat, and singing softly almost under my breath:
"Land of our birth, our faith, our pride,
For whose dear sake our fathers died;
Oh, Motherland! we pledge to thee
Head, heart, and hand through the years to be!"
Suddenly the door opened, and Aunt Isobel walked in.
I saw at once that something had happened. She looked quite agitated,
quite unlike her calm cool self.
"Your grandfather has heard from Miss Douglas on the telephone," she
said. Then she stopped as if she couldn't go on.
"Something about Pat!" I gasped, and jumped down from my perch, and let
my knitting drop on the floor in my excitement.
"Yes," Aunt Isobel said, speaking very quietly now. "She has had bad
news. He was killed yesterday. I thought I had better come and tell
you."
Then she turned to the door, and left the room, but Lynette dashed
after her.
I was literally stunned. I stood staring at the machine Aylwin was
making, wondering if I were in a dream.
Pat! Jolly, laughing, reckless Pat! Pat, with his mischievous blue
eyes, and brilliant smile, and curly head, lying dead and cold and
still! I could not, would not believe it. There was a mistake. He could
not go out of our life so suddenly. It must be another of the same
name. Oh, it couldn't be Pat, he was too full of life, too young to be
taken away like this!
Why did not Aunt Isobel come back and say she had made a mistake!
Aylwin sat looking at me with a white, horrified face. Puff was the
only one of us who took it quietly.
"Poor dear Pat!" he said, shaking his head sadly. "I liked Pat, and now
he's gone just like father!"
Then I fled to my room. I could not stand being with the others. I
flung myself on my bed and sobbed and sobbed, until I was exhausted.
Then Lynette crept in. She had been crying too, for her eyes were very
red.
"I think it was horrid of Aunt Isobel to go off like that! But I made
her tell me all she knew. Miss Douglas had only just had a wire from
the War Office saying they regretted to tell her that Pat was killed
yesterday. Oh, Grisel, isn't it awful? I somehow never thought that
anybody belonging to us would be killed. It was bad enough to see
Gervas after his gas poisoning, but it is impossible to believe that
Pat is dead! Now I feel that Denys will be killed too, directly he goes
out. It's horrible! Why doesn't God strike the Kaiser dead, or swallow
the Germans up with an earthquake, or do something to stop this cruel
war!"
"Oh, do be quiet," I said; "and go away and leave me alone. You never
stop chattering."
"It's no good to be cross. Aylwin is writing to Denys about it, and
Puff has run off down to grandfather. I've nobody to talk to. Lying on
your bed and crying won't bring Pat back. Do talk to me, Grisel, and
say something nice. I'm perfectly miserable!"
I got off my bed. It was no good being selfish. I washed my face, and
then sat down by the window, and looked out at the storm.
"I'm glad it is raining and blowing like this," I said. "At any rate,
the weather does not mock at us. I should hate it to be a bright sunny
day."
Lynette came and sat down by me.
"Grisel," she said in a low voice, "you wouldn't call Pat a good boy
exactly, would you?"
I didn't answer for a moment, then I said stoutly:
"Lynette, I have prayed for Pat twice every day since he went out. I
don't believe God would be deaf and not hear me. And you know what Pat
said in his first letter to me. I showed it to you."
"Get the letter and read it again," said Lynette.
I took it out of a little box I keep my treasures in; I had read it
many times myself, but I read it to Lynette again.
And we both felt comforted by it. He said he was trying to "hold fast"
and read his Testament every day. That was a good deal for him to say.
"I wish—I wish we knew more about him," I said. "It seems so awful to
have him die, and be buried out there just with a lot of others, and
nobody belonging to him to be there."
"I hate this war," said Lynette, stamping her foot. "It ought to be
stopped."
"We used to talk a good deal about sparing and sending those we loved
to fight," I said. "But it was easy to talk; it's different now we have
to do it. And Pat has died for his King and country. He is a hero. He
couldn't do more. And if Denys dies too, we must be glad and willing,
Lynette, about it."
"We never could be glad," said Lynette; "that's all humbug."
"Then we are not true patriots," I said, "and all our Empire League
teaching goes for nothing. We must be glad, Lynette. If we lose Denys
and Aylwin and Puff and have no brothers left, you and I must be
willing, and say: 'Thank God they went to the front! Thank God we never
kept them back, or darkened their last hours at home by tears and
reproaches!'"
I had worked myself up by this time to a proper spirit for an English
girl.
Lynette stared at me.
"Now you're in heroics!" she said. "You're trying to talk like a book.
You don't really feel like that, you're only pretending!"
"Perhaps," I said, feeling in my heart that what she said was true,
"perhaps if we go on pretending, we shall make it real. We have got to
make ourselves brave citizens, Lynette. If we don't, we shall never be
able to inspire boys and men to go and fight."
"We can be brave," said Lynette, "but we can't be glad that Pat is
dead; you're not glad. You would be inhuman if you were! And we aren't
acting before an audience, Grisel, so you may just as well be natural.
You know quite well that you can't be glad about Pat!"
And I knew she was right. I never could be glad. I felt that I should
never be happy again, with dear, merry Pat gone away from us, and if we
lost Denys, there would be nothing left to live for.
For the next few days we hoped and hoped that we should hear something,
but any news that came was only to say that somebody else was killed or
wounded.
Peggy heard that a nephew of hers was killed, and a son of cook's was
wounded, and a cousin of one of the housemaids a prisoner, and down in
the village there were three different families mourning for a soldier
belonging to them. I used to be so fond of Easter, but now it all
seemed a mockery until we began to think of the end of the world and
all the dead coming to life; then that seemed to cheer us up a little.
And then, a week later, Miss Douglas came over with letters. She and
Aunt Isobel are great friends, and she always comes to show her and
tell her everything. But she knew how fond we all were of Pat, and how
much he was with us before he went away, so I was not a bit surprised
when I was sent for to the drawing-room.
Miss Douglas kissed me when I came in, and Aunt Isobel left us and
went away. I think that was very nice of her, for it is always easier
for two to talk than three. Aunt Isobel had heard from Pat's Irish
cousin and the colonel of his regiment and from a nurse at the base
hospital. The colonel said he was one of the most promising of his
young officers, and there wasn't a single man in his regiment who did
not love him.
That we knew already. The colonel said that they were storming a
trench, and had a terrific fire poured into them from the enemy's guns.
The captain and senior subalterns were all shot, and the men wavered,
and in another moment would have retreated in a panic when Pat rallied
them, and led them on triumphantly. They got the trench from the
Germans, and Pat was hit just when the fighting was over. That seemed
so sad. But I suppose he had done his work—and then was taken.
The colonel said he had never seen Pat without a smile on his face.
His cheery spirit had kept them all heartened up even on the blackest
days. And then his cousin wrote, for he had discovered one of the
stretcher-bearers who carried him to hospital. Pat knew he was dying.
He asked them twice to put him down and take up some others who might
have a chance, but they wouldn't listen to him. He was unconscious when
they got him to hospital. He was shot through both lungs. But just
before he lapsed into unconsciousness, he murmured, with his bright
smile, "Rather dull work for you fellows—ever so much obliged to you.
You've carried me A1."
Then the nurse wrote, and before she read her letter, Miss Douglas put
a little parcel into my hand.
"It's for you, Grisel. It's the little book come back to you which you
gave him."
I took it in my hand, struggling with my tears. The nurse's letter was
the nicest of all. I'm sure she must be a good woman. She said that his
patience and sweetness were miraculous. He lived for four hours after
she had got him to bed. But he couldn't talk much. This was the message
he gave her:
"Tell Grisel—first leaf in Testament—made good to me. And I've found
the Hand to H.F. to."
He sent his love to his aunt, and then he turned his head on his pillow
and "just fell asleep," said the nurse.
I was crying fast as Miss Douglas read this to me.
"What did the dear boy mean by the 'first leaf?'" she asked me.
I opened the little Testament and showed it to her. It had a horrid
stain upon it, and I knew what the stain meant, but I read the verse
out loud:
"'I the LORD have called thee in righteousness, and will hold thine
hand, and will keep thee!'"
"And what did he mean by 'H.F.'?" she asked.
"Hold fast," I said, choked by my sobs.
Miss Douglas cried with me.
"I never taught him to be religious," she said. "I couldn't get hold of
him. I don't know how he learnt it."
"God taught him," I said.
And I'm perfectly certain God did, and, though I was so sad, a joyful
feeling came into my heart that God had listened to, and answered,
my prayers. It made me feel I could and would pray for anybody and
everybody now. God was so very very good to listen to me.
When Miss Douglas went away, I went upstairs and told Lynette all about
it, and we cried again together, and I wrapped up the dear little
Testament and put it into my treasure box with Pat's letter, and I
shall keep them both there till I die.
* * * * *
I can't go on with this diary any more. Somehow or other the war seems
to stop us from doing so many things.
And to-day Denys has left us for France. He came down in khaki looking
so brave and handsome. He had only twenty-four hours' leave. I know I
shall never have a happy moment till he is home again. But oh, I am so
certain and so glad that he is ready for whatever may happen to him.
Pat's death has sobered us. We should have sent Denys off with shouts
of laughter and cheers before, quite expecting him to come back with
the V.C. Now we know that he may never return; and Denys knows it too.
"Grisel," he said, as he kissed me good-bye in the porch—I was standing
behind the others—"Grisel, if I share Pat's fate, you'll know I shall
be quite willing. I hope I may be spared to fight the whole war
through, but if I'm not, you'll see that Aylwin takes my place as soon
as he can. He's only a year behind me."
"Oh, Denys—I do hope you will be kept safe. But I know it will be all
right, and that you will H.F. to the last."
Denys smiled. As he drove off we gave him three cheers—and grandfather
joined us.
Denys waved his cap in the air, and then he did—what only Lynette and I
understood. He held up his left wrist and gripped it with his right.
And we knew that he was telling himself and us to keep father's Charge.
FINIS