It was the way of things in the long months of the war that in addition
to news from abroad, one was called upon to receive information
concerning events at home, and when it happened that both were of a
serious and alarming nature, one was almost knocked down by the double
blow. One generally managed to get up again before ten was counted, but
for the moment, the effect was staggering. I could have wished for no
better companions than Cartwright and William Richards, and they proved
the more useful when my brother-in-law Millwood arrived, a broken
and a tearful man, unable to offer any suggestion or to join in the
conference which, once I had recovered, took place; he went into the
back room, and gripping the top of his head with both hands moaned and
wailed. All the cheeriness which he was able, at public meetings, to
communicate to his audience, had gone. I opened the door with the idea
of giving a word of sympathy.
"Go away, Mary," he said. "Please go away. I want to be alone."
The accident, it seemed, had occurred near to London, and injured
passengers were brought on to the terminus and conveyed to hospitals;
William Richards was able to give me the name of the institution to
which Herbert had been taken and the title of the ward. "I asked the
question you are now putting to me," said William, in his stolid way,
"and the answer was 'Both mental and physical.'" Richards had to leave
in order to resume his duties, but he urged me to count upon him for
any assistance required, and advised the Quartermaster-Sergeant to go
back to France at the earliest possible moment. "No offence meant," he
added, at the doorway, "but I've knowed her," with a jerk of the head
in my direction, "a sight longer than what you have. And if I could
only get appointed to a nice station down in the country--". He decided
not to complete the sentence, or to describe, in full, his plans.
Cartwright, aroused from contemplation of his own state of health
by some one else's disaster, offered to carry out any orders I had
to give. I felt unable, at the moment, to go to town and endure the
risks of ascertaining worse news, and did not care to leave Millwood;
Cartwright put on his thick overcoat, and set out with no delay. In
the back room, I found my brother-in-law searching the contents of the
bookshelf.
"Want a prayer book," he said, in a muffled voice, "or a bible. Or a
'ymn book. Anything of the sort'd do."
I ran in next door, where the proprietor was a chapel man; his wife
would not permit me to take a copy of ordinary size, but forced upon
me a family bible, under the impression, I fancy, that size and weight
would increase helpfulness. The considerable volume I took to Millwood;
he asked me to guide him to comforting passages, and this, after
some effort of memory, I was able to do. Called back to the shop, I
could hear--as a visitor begged me, on the grounds that she was dead
nuts on crime, to give a full and particular account of the silver
incident--could hear him reciting verses aloud in tones that became
strong and determined.
"Funny thing," he remarked, later. "Such a lot of us don't give a
thought to religion unless something 'appens that we've got no control
over. Then we begin to take notice of a 'igher power. You remember the
story of the sailor in the Liverpool docks?" The fact that Millwood was
telling an anecdote proved that he was regaining composure. "Chap falls
from top of mast, and cries out, 'Oh, Lord, pray 'elp me!' 'Alf way
down he catches 'old of a rope, and swings into safety. 'Don't trouble,
Lord,' he says, 'I've done it meself!'"
We talked quietly after this of Herbert's accident, and of the steps
to be taken. I suggested that the lad, so soon as he was free of the
hospital, should be brought to my rooms at Gloucester Place; replying
to Millwood I had to admit that, with the calls of the business on my
time, it would not be possible for me to nurse him, but I felt sure the
services of a capable woman could be obtained. To make certain of this,
I went along to the Post Office and rang up the doctor who had become
a recent customer, and had proved friendly and helpful. His answer
was definite. "No chance of securing a nurse for a long job. Everyone
busy, and overworked. The patient had better remain in the hospital.
Extremely sorry unable to assist. Brighter luck next time. Good-bye!"
At Gloucester Place that evening, the news was received with concern.
Mr. Hillier said that no one would hear of the accident with more
regret than John. John had been looking forward to a meeting with
Herbert so soon as the tour was over; he had some idea of taking
Herbert away to Cornwall, where the pair could enjoy a holiday
together. Muriel came in as the others were guessing at the extent
and nature of the injuries; Edward spoke of concussion of the brain,
and, as an authority on railway procedure, suggested that if any
immediate compensation were offered, it should not be accepted, but
the matter instead placed in the hands of a solicitor. Legal folk, he
said, managed to get more out of a company than an ordinary individual
obtained.
"Has something happened?" asked Muriel. I explained. "If you want any
one to look after him," she said quickly, "when he comes here, let me
do it."
"But, my dear," I protested. "Means such a sacrifice for you to make."
"It is time," she said, "that I did a little in that way. I shouldn't
be so good as a qualified nurse, but I'd do everything I was told to
do. We'll consider it settled. Unless," she added, "unless he objects."
"You are the one person in the world that he would like to have for
company." She contracted her forehead slightly, and I could see that
my impetuous remark had not included the quality of tactfulness. "I
should have said you are one of the few persons." Muriel accepted the
correction with a nod.
The particulars brought by Cartwright suggested that the hospital would
be ready to give Herbert permission to leave so soon as he could be
removed with safety, and I heard from Miss Katherine that her sister
had given notice to headquarters of an intention to resign. Katherine
thought it a risky procedure, but admitted that the demand for women's
work existed and was likely to continue; the talk of compulsory service
by men seemed likely to result in definite action. Katherine, in
speaking of the war and the call for more recruits, mentioned that she
could not decide whether she wished her little one to be a boy, or a
girl, and I pointed out to her that, in these matters, wishing was of
small avail.
Cartwright gave up his hours to attendance at the hospital; he had
always, he said, felt a partiality for the lad, since Birdcage Walk
days, and although at times Herbert could not speak to him, the
Quartermaster-Sergeant sat by his bed and waited to see whether
conversation, in small doses, was required. It was Cartwright who,
when the day for transfer came, took charge of all the arrangements;
for once in my life I was willing to abstain from exercising control.
When the ambulance drew up in Gloucester Place, and the invalid chair
was brought out with my dear nephew upon it, he glanced wearily at
me, without sign of recognition, and I knew his convalescence was
going to be no short job. Captain Winterton and his wife looked on
sympathetically; the old lady whispered to her husband and, coming
forward, he begged, in his courteous way, that I would consider the
ground floor at my disposal. Cartwright and the driver of the ambulance
said the stairs were not difficult and could be managed. I thanked
the Wintertons and assured them the top floor had been chosen by the
doctor; no other invention would have arrested their hospitality.
At the last landing stood Muriel in a neat print costume and blue
over-all; her features had become tanned by out-door work and I felt
that Herbert might well be excused for failing to identify her. He
opened his eyes as the chair stopped.
"Yes," he said, gratefully trying to put out his hand to her. "You!
You!"
I have never been able to make up my mind whether, if Herbert had
arrived safely and without the intervention of the railway accident,
Muriel would have shewn any extraordinary regard for him; there
is, at the back of my mind, an impression that with her thoughts
concentrated on work, and with the memory of disastrous experiences
in earlier days, she had decided to contemplate the other sex with
aloofness. (Afterwards she told us one or two incidents connected with
impressionable season-ticket holders that seemed to confirm this view.)
The clear and certain thing was that she entered upon her new duties
with a serenity that would have been impossible for her in Chislehurst
times, that she shewed also a touch of authority, accepting suggestions
from nobody but the doctor, and allowing none of us to enter the room
and chat with Herbert unless we first obtained permission from her.
Cartwright was inclined to rebel. Cartwright said he had met nurses out
in France who, at the start, had to be argued with firmly, and this
over, proved sweet enough and reasonable; I warned him that a procedure
effective with some might fail where Muriel was concerned, and advised
that he should imitate my example, and abstain from interference.
"That isn't usual with me," he declared, "and I'll swear it's a bit
exceptional with you. I often find myself wondering what sort of
discussions and arguments and family words you and me will have when
we're married."
"Don't you bother your head about that," I counselled. "It takes two to
make a wedding, and I haven't by any means come to a decision yet."
"But why then do you let me kiss you?"
"Because I like it," I said. "Take a book, and go out and sit down in
the Park, and get yourself fit and well as soon as ever you can. We
shan't have this war finished if many of you hang around here at home.
Besides, the neighbours in London Street are beginning to talk."
"I don't suppose they ever belonged to the deafs and dumbs, and
I'll guarantee there's few people in Greenwich who care less what's
chattered about them than you do. As a matter of fact, I'm going to run
up to town to see my brother. I want to get him to draw up a will for
me."
"You ought to have done that long ago."
"Possibly," he said. "But long ago I hadn't anything to leave, and long
ago I didn't know anyone special I wanted to leave it to. I'll trouble
you, Mary Weston, for a fond embrace."
The Quartermaster-Sergeant, soon after this, was detailed for duty
at Seaford, where he had to look after the convalescent men who were
preparing to return to the front. I did not tell him, and did not
inform anybody, how greatly I missed him.
Herbert's progress was slow, but there came a time when he was able,
with Muriel's assistance, to walk about the gardens of Gloucester
Place, and I noticed that their conversation was often animated, that
they called each other by Christian names. Then there came news of
cruel treatment of (amongst others) a chum of Herbert's, now in a
German lager not so well managed as the one in which John had been
detained, and Herbert worked himself up to a state of excitement over
the methods that had been practised, and his own inability to help in
taking revenge. The doctor summoned a specialist from Wimpole Street,
and Muriel told me privately of her fears that she might find herself
replaced by someone owning greater qualifications. The specialist gave
orders regarding treatment, asked no questions concerning Muriel,
approved her careful manner of taking notes. Herbert was not to be left
alone at night, and I offered my services.
"Are you his sister?" inquired the man from Wimpole Street. I explained
the relationship. "Heavens!" he cried. "Incredible! Bless my soul! How
difficult it is, in these days, to guess a woman's age."
"Thanks for the compliment, sir."
"It isn't a compliment," he retorted. "I'm hinting at the facts. If
anybody asked me, I should say you were in love."
"Nobody is likely to ask you," I remarked, "and you needn't pledge your
word to a statement of that kind."
Millwood came back from some platform engagements, and Muriel described
to me the scene of his meeting with Herbert; she mentioned that she
would have felt more touched by it, but for the common and ordinary
accent used by Herbert's father. It occurred to me there was still a
trace of haughtiness to be found in the girl, and that this needed
to be erased before she could be reckoned good enough for my nephew.
Millwood bought and presented to her, as acknowledgment of her
attention, a brooch the like of which I had never seen before, and,
with luck, will not see again; she was on the point of declining it,
but a glance from me induced her to change the intention.
"You can either wear it," said Millwood, impressively, "on 'igh days,
and Bank 'olidays, or you can put it by, and keep it in stock, so to
speak, as family heirloom, to be 'anded down to your children, and
their children's children after them." Muriel said she would take the
second alternative, and that she was ever so much obliged. "Tell you
what I did," he went on, emphasising the importance of the occasion,
"I didn't consult me own taste; I tried to imagine what your selection
would be, and d'rectly moment I set eyes on this, I knew I wasn't going
far wrong!"
It was, I suppose, the sleeping upright in a chair at night that made
my dreams more than ever twisted and perturbed; it may have been
Cartwright's talk about his will that accounted for his presence in
these imaginings. The number of times the Quartermaster-Sergeant was
blown up by mines, or sniped by the enemy was past counting; it often
proved an intense relief when Herbert awoke, and his call aroused me.
Occasionally, when sleep was tardy in coming to him, Herbert spoke of
his mother and his own early days, and the money I had spent on his
education, and a dozen other subjects; he rarely alluded to Muriel, and
when he did so, only in an incidental way. From which, I assumed that
they had made terms with each other, and that peace was near. It seemed
to me now that this was perhaps the best thing that could happen.
I should have done well to keep in mind the nursing instinct. In my
own case, with the maids at Chislehurst, it had often happened that a
particularly tiresome girl fell ill, and, at once, all my annoyance
with her ceased, and I tended her as though she were my dearest friend.
I have known mistresses who got rid of servants because they were so
healthy as to prove wholly uninteresting. It is a virtue or a defect
with women. And certainly it proved, in case of Muriel, that so soon
as my nephew gave signs of recovery--I was glad for his sake, and not
regretful for my own, for the want of proper rest was beginning to
tell upon me, and I had no desire to escape the kind of flattery that
the Wimpole Street gentleman had offered--so soon as this occurred,
Muriel went up to the City, obtained employment in a forwarding office
in Gracechurch Street at twenty-five shillings a week (the head
clerk had been a season-ticket holder who shewed deference in her
ticket-collector days), came back and reported the circumstance. This
readiness for work in war time was no help to sentimental match-makers
like myself. I took Herbert to task.
"I'm sorry, aunt," he said.
"You have oceans of pluck in other ways."
"Possibly, possibly. But it requires a special sort of courage to speak
in that way to any one who is so far above--" He made an upward gesture
with his hand.
"On any well regulated set of scales," I declared, warmly, "your
qualities would considerably outbalance hers. As a fact, she is even
now not nearly good enough for you."
"You expect life to resemble a _Family Herald_ story," he said, smiling.
"Life might often do worse."
"With every male patient marrying every nurse, and living happily
ever afterwards. There wouldn't be enough nurses, my dear aunt, to go
around. And because Muriel has been so good as to attend to me during
my illness is a reason why my admiration should increase, but it gives
no excuse for assuming that she is bound to become my wife."
"Then, I suppose, we must hunt about for someone else likely to suit
your lordship."
"A waste of time," he assured me. "I shall never think of caring for
anyone else. And to have been in her company all these weeks is a
privilege I did not deserve, and shall never forget."
"Boy," I cried, "you're talking like a blessed Crusader."
An army medical officer came to see him one day, and announced that
Herbert was not yet fit to return to duty. Herbert took him down to the
riverside, by the Naval College, and argued with him for an hour by
the clock, and they came back to Gloucester Place, where the medical
officer said that Lieutenant Millwood's health had so much improved
that he would rejoin his company the following morning. I knew quite
well that Herbert would have been less eager to go away from Greenwich
if his lady had not now been catching the eight-twenty train every
morning to Cannon Street. It had always interested me to watch folk who
are in love, and this, perhaps, was due to the circumstance that until
the Quartermaster-Sergeant came on the scene, I had few experiences of
my own to engage attention. And being accustomed to pull wires and see
the figures obey, I was a trifle moody in bidding the lad farewell.
"No more railway accidents, please," I directed. "I did think this one
might have been of some use, but I was mistaken. And I'm disappointed."
"Had a letter from the railway company this morning," he said. "They
seem to make a very fair offer."
"Give it to me. You mustn't accept the proposal until I have considered
it."
"If you were in command of the British army, aunt--"
"I like everything to be done right."
At the earliest opportunity, when Millwood was able to look after
the shop for a couple of hours--he had a bible of his own now, and
read it with all the interest of one to whom its contents were new,
declaiming passages aloud and committing them to memory--I ran up to
town and saw Cartwright's brother. He was an abridged edition of the
Quartermaster-Sergeant, only about five feet five high, and small
featured; in the way of short men he took an assertive manner, and
there was scarcely any opinion I offered during the early part of the
interview that did not receive immediate contradiction. Perhaps he
accentuated this attitude because, at the start, he said, "Oh yes, Miss
Weston. The lady to whom my soldier brother wants to leave his money!"
It was a time, you will remember, when we all bragged of relatives in
the army; the little solicitor was not exempt, and one could see that
he blamed himself for disclosing information concerning the will. I
said promptly that I had no need of the Quartermaster-Sergeant's money,
that I had enough of my own, that he would have done better to look
after his parents. "They," remarked Cartwright's brother, "are under my
charge." We came to the subject of the railway company's offer.
"Oh, no," he said, promptly, "your nephew is not going to agree to
that. These folk never expect their first offer to be taken. This
is a matter which will require correspondence and discussion, and
consultations, and so forth, and so on."
"We don't want to run into too much expense for your so forth and so
on."
"You will be troubled with no bill of costs in this matter," he said.
"Any friend of my brother's has a special claim upon me."
I apologised, and we became more friendly. He told me his parents had
made great sacrifices in regard to his preparation for the law, and
that George had willingly agreed to this. He admitted there had been
a period when one did not take much trouble to speak of a brother who
had enlisted in the army; he remembered arguing the matter with George
very seriously, and for some years they were not on speaking or writing
terms; the war had promptly brought them together. I spoke of other
conjuring tricks performed by the same medium. Of my nephew Herbert,
stopped in his educational career. Of the Hilliers, and in particular
of Muriel.
"But that ought not to be a difficult task," said the little man,
across the table. "To bring those two together, I mean."
"It ought not to be difficult," I agreed, "but I can give you my word
that it is."
"He is very much in love with her?"
"That's right."
"And she cares for no one else?"
"So far as I know."
"Have you," he asked, "considered the usefulness of exciting jealousy?"
It is fair to say that he did, in the result, persuade the railway
people to increase the compensation by about fifty per cent.,
that he declined to take a penny for his work, and that his
suggestion concerning Muriel appeared, when I had given full time to
consideration, one which deserved a fair trial. The chance came when
a stout widow of Maze Hill, a lady customer who collected articles
of brass, spoke to me of her intense sympathy for lonely men in
the army; she had four on her list with whom she was in frequent
postal communication, and wanted more. "My heart goes out to them,"
she declared, emotionally. She was grateful for the full address
of Lieutenant Millwood, of whom I spoke as from hearsay, and she
subsequently shewed me a brief but very courteous note received from
that young officer. "They're always shy at first," remarked the Maze
Hill widow, acutely. "But I know just how to write to them. The great
thing is to cheer them up, make them realise that someone cares for
them, and send them plenty of cigarettes." In one of his notes to
me, Herbert alluded to the kindness he was receiving from a Mrs.
Kenningham. I spoke of this incident at Gloucester Place, and Muriel
said she considered that some women with nothing else to do were making
themselves foolish and intolerably fussy in pressing their attentions
upon army men.
* * * * *
Katherine left the bank, and stayed at home for a few weeks. The post
from Mesopotamia was still imperfect, and it was all I could do to keep
her hopeful and happy. Her baby came one morning at twenty-five past
six, and I sent a cable to Lieutenant Langford that seemed to puzzle
the attendant in the Post Office. It said,
"Beautiful boy!"