Tidings of the new hero of Liége floated up to our ward within the hour.
There was slight concussion of the brain; there were scalp wounds which
had had to be stitched up; and there were many bruises; but the surgeons
reported no bones broken, and complete recovery only a matter of days.
Even the monoplane itself, we heard, was singularly little damaged. All
this would have appeared miraculous, and the pious Belgians would have
attributed it to direct intervention of the Blessed Virgin, had not the
wrecked dirigible on examination told a silent story of the air scout's
cleverness as well as his daring. Before swooping on the Zeppelin from
above, he had apparently discharged bombs of his own on the balloon,
which had burst before the monoplane dashed down on to it, and the great
bulk had fallen away from under, without carrying the lighter machine to
destruction. The theory which awaited corroboration from the aviator was
that he had begun to plane down, despite some damage, and had actually
fallen but a short distance, striking earth a hundred yards away from
the wrecked dirigible.
Nobody talked about anything except the feat of the foreign air scout.
The roar of the cannon from the fort had ceased to make us jump; and it
was better to chat about Monsieur Mars than to murmur in each other's
ears, "How long before _THEY_ slip round the forts and get into the
town?" I made up my mind that whatever happened, nothing should tear me
from Liége while Eagle March was there. And when Tony sent up word
begging to see me on important business, in imagination I was defending
Eagle's hospital cot (naturally with him in it!) against a troop of
uhlans. In that mood, Tony's arguments about my going away made as much
impression as the chirp of a sparrow on a man stone deaf in both ears.
"Wild horses, much less wild uhlans, couldn't drag me out of this
place," I said, feeling as brave and firm as a story-book heroine,
though to Tony I may have seemed obstinate as a mule. "What do you take
me for, boy? Go comfortably away in a motor car to safety indeed, while
Eagle March is here, lying at death's door? Or if he isn't at death's
door, it's only because the angels slammed it in his face."
"Eagle March! What are you talking about?" Tony wanted to know, looking
dazed. I had forgotten that there was no reason why he should have
guessed the hero's identity, and I dashed into explanations. "Don't tell
people yet," I said, "because he mayn't want it talked about, but he's
the 'Monsieur Mars' who's been helping Belgium since the very first day
of war. Why, they say _he_ gave the warning that the Germans would cross
the frontier. Isn't it _like_ him? And how silly of us not to guess, the
minute we heard the name of 'Mars!'"
"It never entered my head, though I've heard it a dozen times before
this last feat," said Tony. "People were talking about other stunts Mars
had done. But I supposed he was some French Johnny. Are you sure you're
right? Sure it's March, I mean? It does seem a little too strange to be
true, that he should turn up--or rather come down--here, of all places!"
"'Too strange _not_ to be true,'" I quoted. "Strange things are the only
things that happen in war, for a man like him--a man without a country.
We might have known he would come to the rescue of Belgium! And I am
sure I'm right, because I've seen him."
"Great Scott!" was all that Tony had to say for a minute. Then he went
on in a changed and heavy tone: "I suppose you're nursing him?"
"No such luck!" I answered. "I'm not experienced enough. But I'm
debating whether I might ask to see him, when he gets better, on the
strength of old friendship. I don't think he'd mind my claiming
acquaintance with 'Monsieur Mars.'"
"Mind? I guess not!" said Tony. "But how soon will he be better?"
"He'll be nearly well, they hope, in a few days."
"He'll have to be, by George, if he wants to get out of town with his
monoplane before the Germans walk in. The Belgians are the heroes of
Europe, but there aren't enough of 'em to hold out forever, and that's
why you _must_ go with us, Peggy, March or no March. He'd be the first
one to tell you to clear out, if he had his wits about him."
"I dare say he would, but he hasn't got them yet," I replied calmly.
"You don't really _expect_ me to leave him, do you, Tony, after--after
all I've confessed to you?"
"I expect you to see reason," Tony lamely persisted. "There's just one
thing to do, and that is to scoot while there's a chance. If I were
alone without the mater and Milly, I'd say let's hang on for a day or
two longer and run the risk--though running it might make me overstay my
leave. That would be nothing, though. I wouldn't think of myself in any
way. But I can't let my mother and sister go without me to look after
them as well as I'm able. I can't ask them to stop, and they wouldn't if
I did, for they're wild to get away. Yet how can I let you stay here
alone? March would be furious with you, if he came back to himself and
found you hanging on."
I laughed. "He couldn't kill me!"
"The Germans could."
"In spite of the red cross, and my lovely cap and apron? Well, I'm not
afraid. And Eagle will never know that I stopped for his sake when I
might have gone. I'm not sure I shouldn't have stayed in any case."
"I'm sure you wouldn't, if I'd had to use force. But you see what a
position you put me in, Peggy. How can I, a chap you don't care a snap
for at heart, hope to drag you away from the one who's got it all? And
yet, what am I to do if you refuse to come?"
"Dear Tony," I said quietly, "I do care lots of snaps for you, more than
I ever did, I think. But--oh, I _must_ say it!--'snaps' is just the poor
little word that's appropriate compared to what I feel for Eagle. All I
have and am is for him, though he doesn't want it, and will never know,
I hope, what a fool his 'little friend' is over him."
In silence Tony received the blow I had to strike. He stood with his
head down for a minute, while I ached with pity for him and for
myself--though I hated myself, too, because I was hurting him.
"You must go with Mrs. Dalziel and Milly," I said, when he didn't speak.
"It's the only way. I shall be safe enough--as safe as the other nurses.
Who knows," and I laughed uneasily to break the barrier of restraint,
"but Eagle will take me away in his monoplane? That would be a splendid
solution of the difficulty, wouldn't it?" I spoke only in jest, but Tony
accepted the idea half seriously.
"Yes, that's exactly what _will_ happen, I expect," he said. "You'll go
off with him. Anyhow, I've lost you! I see that. You could never put up
with me after this experience. That's true, isn't it, Peggy?"
The same thought, put in a less brutal way, had been heavy in my heart
since my glimpse of Eagle lying unconscious on the litter. I knew then
that I was married to my love for him and that any other marriage would
be worse than illegal.
I hesitated how to answer, but perhaps my silence spoke as clearly as
words. "Don't look as if you'd just lost your last friend, my poor
child," Tony said, in his good, warm way. "You haven't lost me, you
know, though I've lost you. And you needn't look so guilty, either, as
if you'd murdered me and buried me under the leaves! I was always
expecting this thing to come, though I didn't foresee the way of it. If
ever I felt tempted to believe our engagement was getting to be the real
thing, why, I said to myself, 'Wait till she sees March again before you
begin to be cocksure, my man.' Well, now you've seen him. And I guess
you've seen in the same minute that our experiment has failed."
"I'm--afraid that's true, Tony!" I sighed. "I can't help it! It wouldn't
be fair to you for us to go on as we are. I shall have to break my word
to you, if I'm to be faithful to myself."
"You won't be breaking any old word!" he said. "It was never an
iron-clad promise. I teased you till you agreed to try how the thing
would work. It's been my fault all through, and now I'll take my
medicine. Our engagement was never insured against war risks, and when I
get back my senses I'm going to be glad you saw March before it was too
late. I--brought you two together, sort of inadvertently, as you might
say, didn't I? But, honest Injun, Peggy, I'd do the thing over again,
knowing all I know. I only wish--yes, before the Lord I _do_ wish--that
good may come of it to you both."
"You're an angel, Tony, a real angel!" I almost sobbed. "But you needn't
think that anything will 'come of it' in the way you mean, because it
won't. I don't delude myself. I don't even hope. All the same, I must be
true--to my own heart. And I beg of you to forgive me because I didn't
know it well enough before."
"There isn't any question of forgiveness," said he, with his head up,
and his nice Billiken face very pink. "I bless you--bless you for all
you've been or done to me. And I wouldn't forget or undo anything if I
could, you can bet your life on that. I think I could bear the whole
business like a man, if I could stay right here and see you through.
But--there's mater and Milly to think of--and the regiment.
And--and--oh, well, life's just one damn thing after another!"
Mrs. Dalziel and Milly came and pleaded with me after that, and tried to
frighten me into going with them; but, as Milly burst out desperately at
last, I was "as hard as nails." Tony had told them nothing, I found,
about the failure of our experiment or the identity of Monsieur Mars. I
well understood why, and was grateful--grateful for that and for many
things; most of all for bringing me to Belgium, and neither grudging nor
regretting what he had done. So, as a lover, Tony went out of my life;
but as a friend, he never can go.
I had no time to cry or feel lonely, or tell myself what a beast I'd
been, after the three had reluctantly left me to my fate; for when I
went back on duty after the good-byes, it was to find that I had been
sent for to hasten to the principal ward. Monsieur Mars was being
delirious in English, and the doctors and nurses understood too little
of the language to know whether he were merely babbling or pouring forth
important information.
There Eagle lay in his narrow, white bed, clean and pale, with his head
swathed in bandages, a very different man from the grimy, bloodstained
vision that had flashed on me a few hours before. The merest stranger
who had ever seen Captain March would have deserved no credit for
recognizing him now.
The nurses waited eagerly for me to translate his mutterings; but he
only mumbled again and again, "It's all over, all over!"
If I could guess at a sad hidden meaning for the words, it was one which
need not be handed on to others; and I proved so broken a reed as a
translator that I expected to receive marching orders, right-about face.
Strange to say, however, though his eyes were half closed and he seemed
to see nothing, know nothing that went on around him, after I had spoken
in a low tone to his nurse Eagle stopped muttering. For a moment he
appeared to listen, and then with a deep sigh as if of relief from pain
or some heavy anxiety, the half-open eyelids closed. The slight frown
which had drawn his brows together slowly faded away. He had the air of
being at rest.
"One would almost fancy," said the head nurse, who had been watching the
scene, speaking thoughtfully when she had beckoned me away from the
bedside, "that this brave monsieur recognized your voice, Mademoiselle."
Then I took heart of grace and did what I had told Tony I meant to do. I
said that I had met Monsieur Mars in England and America. I had
recognized him at once when the Red Cross men brought him into the
hospital, but I had said nothing of this at the time, because I had felt
that it would be considered unimportant.
"On the contrary, Mademoiselle," answered that adorable woman, "it is of
the _greatest_ importance. This heroic monsieur has saved us from death.
If there is anything, little or big, which we can do for him in return,
how gladly will we do it! Your voice has soothed him in his
unconsciousness. Who knows what your presence may do when consciousness
comes back? Why, it would be like throwing away an elixir to waste you
after this in the ward above. You are from now on promoted as assistant
nurse to our hero."
She was a stout, plain person, with bulgy eyes and a pink end to her
nose, but I saw her as the most beautiful woman the world has ever
produced.
I took up my new duties at once, trying not to act as if the moon were
my footstool. All the rest of the day and far into the night Eagle lay
as if asleep, with occasional fits of restlessness which, somehow, I
could always soothe; and this state, though it seemed alarming to me,
was approved by the doctor. It was better, he said, that after
concussion the brain should have for a while repose in unconsciousness.
The symptom was not good when the patient talked rationally too soon.
But if monsieur should waken and show signs of wishing to ask questions,
he must be answered clearly and quietly, if possible by the Demoiselle
Irlandaise who would best be able to understand and satisfy him.
The Demoiselle Irlandaise was advised by the matron to take her repose
early in the night, in order to be ready for such an emergency as
monsieur the doctor suggested. But the demoiselle felt no need of
repose. Sleep seemed some strange and foreign thing. She sat through the
night watching the hero of Liége; and though guns boomed and were
answered, and the nurses occasionally discussed beneath their breath
what would happen to us all when the Germans came, never in her life had
that Demoiselle Irlandaise felt so happy and so useful.
She had the reward of her vigil toward dawn, four-and-twenty hours
almost to the minute after the Zeppelin and its crew had been brought
down. Suddenly Eagle opened his eyes and fixed them on the nurse. At
first he stared as if dazed by what he saw; then came a flash of
recognition which changed to incredulity.
"I'm--_dreaming_ you!" he whispered huskily.
I bent over him with an invalid's cup of liquid food prepared for this
emergency, kept hot in a vacuum flask. "No you're not dreaming me," I
cheerfully replied as I made him drink. "It's Peggy, taking care of you.
Now go to sleep again. I'll still be here when you wake up next time."
"But----" he went on, staring round the room; "where am I? The horse
kicked me, I remember; only that seems so long ago! I thought--a lot of
things had happened since then. I hoped--but I suppose it's all a dream
about--about----"
"Being in Belgium?" I prompted him, seeing his sharp anxiety. "That's
not a dream, but true. You're Monsieur Mars, the hero of Liége, because
you brought down the Zeppelin and the men who came to drop bombs on us.
We're all grateful to you, and praying that you may get well soon."
"Thank God that it _is_ true!" he sighed. "I wanted to do something. I'd
have been disappointed to wake up and find I'd only dreamed after
all--to find that I was back in London. I was afraid for a minute it was
the day of--but it's all right now. How is it that you're here? It
seems----"
"Oh, I just happened to be travelling in Belgium with the Dalziels when
the war broke out, and we got caught. They've gone now, but I stayed.
The nurses let me help them a little. I do the best I can. I told them
I'd met you at home. But every one here calls you 'Monsieur Mars.' They
know no other name."
"Don't let them know any other. Don't let any one know."
"I won't. You needn't worry! Now, will you sleep, please?--or they may
think I'm doing you more harm than good."
"You do me the greatest good. I'll sleep, yes. But first--tell me one
thing more; about the _Golden Eagle_. I planed down part of the way, but
the motor'd stopped working. The last I remember is when I began to
fall."
"The _Eagle's_ safe," I assured him. "Hardly hurt at all; and there's a
Belgian flying man in Liége to-day, Simon Sorel, who knows you. His
mechanic is working on the _Golden Eagle_. She'll be ready for you when
you're ready for her."
"That will be soon. Good man, Sorel!" he said, and closed his eyes.
"Little Peggy!" I heard him muttering later. But three minutes afterward
he had dropped into a natural sleep.
"Magnifique!" was the Belgian doctor's verdict in his next round, when
Eagle had waked again, and had been attended by a nurse wiser and more
experienced than I. There was little that I was allowed to do for him,
but that little was a joy worth being born for; and I could have died of
happiness to see how, when he was awake and fully conscious, his eyes
followed me when I moved about. But it was better to live than to die
just then, and I did live with all my might. I lived in every nerve and
vein for those two days while "Monsieur Mars" was my patient. After the
first twenty-four hours he insisted that he was well enough to be
changed into the ward above, and leave his bed on the ground floor to
some one more seriously injured. On the second day he sat up in a
reclining chair, and announced that twelve hours more would see him out
of hospital. Doctors and nurses protested that he would throw himself
back into a fever, and the consequences might be serious; but as at that
very time the danger of the town being taken was imminent, arguments for
prudence lost their force. Toward evening on the third day Eagle, with
his head and one hand still in bandages, was limping about the field
where the _Golden Eagle_ had been repaired; and when he came back it was
to say that he thought he might get off at midnight with dispatches for
the king in Brussels. He calmly announced this intention to me as I
handed him an innocent cup of broth, better suited to a confirmed
invalid than to a recovered aeronaut. But he quietly accepted the cup;
and I saw by the look in his eyes that I was to expect the first real
talk we had had together.
"What about your going with me, Peggy?" he asked, as simply as if he
were proposing a short pleasure jaunt in a motor car. "You know, I
wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think it honestly the safest thing for
you. With luck we can make the trip in less than an hour, by air. Heaven
knows how long it would take you by earth; and there's no one here,
anyhow, to help smuggle you away if I go and leave you behind. I can't
bear to do it! Besides, from Brussels, there's a good chance of your
getting out with refugees, if you don't wait too long. And you can do as
much good work in London as in Liége. What do you say?"
I wished that it might take us many hours to get to Brussels instead of
less than one. But I didn't put the wish into words. I said only, yes, I
would go; and many thanks.
"Good! That's settled then," said he.
"I must tell our matron," I hesitated. "I _hope_ she won't think me a
coward!"
Eagle smiled almost as he used to smile ages ago in London, when first
we were friends, and he still thought of me as a "little girl." "Few
people would call it a cowardly act for a young woman to fly out of a
beleaguered town in a battered aeroplane with a battered airman, and I
don't think your matron will be one of them. She'll thank you for what
you've done here, and bid you God-speed. But don't go yet to tell her. I
have some things to say to you. You'll be my passenger and 'observer'
when I start to-night, but we'll have no chance to talk; and in these
times we must face the fact that we may never have another chance this
side of heaven."
The words went through me like a bayonet, for I knew too well how deadly
true they were. I didn't try to contradict him, or talk about "hoping
for the best"; for prattle of that sort seemed too futile. I only said,
"Let's take this chance, then. I've plenty of time--hours yet. Stretch
yourself out in the _chaise longue_ and rest while we talk. I'll sit
here by you on the window seat."
No one was very ill in this upper ward, which was kept for
convalescents. Some of the men had been given cigarettes to smoke. Some
were having their supper. It was generally known that Monsieur Mars and
the Demoiselle Irlandaise had been friends in England; and the news
having run round the wards that Monsieur Mars had practically discharged
himself as a patient, we were allowed to talk in peace. Not an errand
was found for me, not a nurse looked--or allowed us to see that she
looked--our way.
"I didn't mean to remind you of my existence, you know, Peggy, till I
had something to say about myself worth saying," Eagle began, speaking
lightly, yet with a nervousness he couldn't quite hide. "I told you that
in my last letter. But Providence has stage-managed things differently."
"Yes. We didn't expect to act together in a continental theatre, did
we?" I was deliberately flippant. "But I'm glad to be in this great play
with you, even in one scene, and such a little part!"
"Maybe the part seems little to you. It doesn't to me! You've helped me
to get well twice as soon as I should have done among strangers.
Heavens! But I was glad to see your little face! I'd have told you that
first morning when I waked up what I'm going to tell you now, if you had
let me then. Things were rather mixed in my brain. I thought I was in
London, and you'd found me at a sort of nursing home I retired into for
a couple of days to get patched up, after that--er--that little accident
I had. I suppose you heard something of it at the time, though I don't
think you were on the spot to see."
"Tony told me you were in church, and that it was you who stopped the
horses when they started to run away," I said, without beating round the
bush, for I thought he was bidding for my frankness on this sore
subject.
"I hoped I might have passed unrecognized; but I feared that was too
much to expect. I was tempted to break my resolution and write to you
after all, explaining why I went to Lady Diana's wedding. But I stuck it
out because--well, because it _was_ a resolution. Silly maybe! all the
same, I had it a good deal at heart to find a new place for myself in
the world before I made a sign to any of my friends, even loyal Peggy.
Besides, I had a safe sort of feeling you wouldn't misjudge me."
"I'm glad you felt that," I said. "Almost glad enough to be glad you
didn't write. Though--I should have liked to hear."
"Well, I thought of you a lot, if I didn't write. And I couldn't help
looking at you in church that day. I sent you wireless messages with my
eyes once or twice, although I knew it would be best if you didn't get
any of them."
"I believe I did get them. I seemed to know that some one was calling
me."
"It wasn't a S. O. S. call!" Eagle smiled. "I found--well, I found that
I wasn't in distress, or need of help. That's precisely why I went to
St. George's, Peggy. I wanted to test myself. Did you think the reason
might be that?"
"No! I thought of a dozen things it might be, but never that one!"
"It was the only motive that could have taken me there. I felt it gave
me a right to go, even though--if people who knew how things had been
saw me, they might--well, they might think me guilty of very bad taste.
But I didn't mean to be seen. I wasn't asked to show a card. I walked in
early and chose a place at the back of the church. I trusted to the
crowd to hide me, and it did. Dalziel may have caught a glimpse of me
between women's hats, but he couldn't have been sure if it hadn't been
for that affair afterward. That was bad luck, in a way, although I was
glad, if the accident had to happen, that I could be of use. However, it
didn't affect the question of my being in church. And I must tell you
about that. I didn't go to England for the purpose of making the
experiment with myself. It was another reason which took me there. But
being in England, I--tried it--tried it with success."
"You mean me to understand that--you _didn't care_?"
"Not exactly that! I'm not made of iron or marble. I didn't sit there in
church without a qualm. But the feelings I had were not those I'd
thought I must defend myself against. What I felt was--was no more and
no less than a rage of hatred against that damned--forgive me,
Peggy!--against that----"
"Damned villain, Sidney Vandyke," I fiercely finished the sentence as he
had meant to end it.
"I can't pretend that that word wasn't the only one to express my
feelings for him on his wedding day," Eagle admitted. "Not because he'd
taken Diana from me, though. That's the strange part! I found it out
while she was being married to Vandyke, and it was the thing I'd wanted
to find out. In the relief, I ought to have forgiven him everything. But
I didn't forgive. The ruin he'd wrought on my career overtopped
everything else in my mind even at that minute. If some great power
could have put me in Vandyke's place at the altar, and given Diana to me
instead of to him, I would not have taken her--not even with her love.
It seemed to me that what she would call her love wasn't worth the name
of love, after--what had passed. It was only the memory of all I'd felt
for her which hurt just then, so far as she was concerned. But for
him--God, Peggy! to see him at the height of his hopes and ambitions
made me mad to choke his life out! It does me good to confess this to
you now, for you're the only one on earth to whom I'd speak."
"Yet, when you went out of church, you saved him from danger of death!"
I said thoughtfully.
"That's just one of life's little ironies, isn't it?" Eagle laughed a
low and bitter laugh. "It occurred to me afterward that I'd spoilt a
good melodramatic plot. Hero secretly goes to church to see the woman
who jilted him marry the villain to whom he owes his ruin. Villain is
killed before his eyes on the way to the wedding reception. Big climax!"
"I think it was more dramatic," said I, "for the hero to save the
villain's life."
"Too conventional. Obvious sort of thing!" sneered Eagle. "But I _am_
conventional and obvious, I suppose. I did what I did simply because I
couldn't help it, and I'd probably do it all over again. I'd have
regretted it afterward, perhaps, if Di--if Lady Diana hadn't been in
danger, too. I bear her no grudge."
"You're very noble," I said.
"It's not nobility. It's more like callousness. I freed myself from Lady
Diana on her wedding day, or found that I was free. But if you could see
into my soul when I think of Vandyke, you wouldn't call me 'noble.' I
honestly pray for the day when I can remember him with indifference, and
when I can say of what he did to me that good is born of evil. That's
what I'm working for. But the time hasn't come yet. Maybe it will if I
can manage to make myself of real use in this war. I've done nothing yet
except a little scouting."
"Liége thinks differently, and so will all the world when it knows."
"I'm not working to reinstate myself in the world's eyes, but in my
own--and most of all to help Belgium. There are things one does just for
the thing itself. I have a fellow-feeling with a country suffering
unjustly. After what I've gone through myself, I seem to owe her
allegiance, as to a friend who understands. The moment this war cloud
began to gather, I thought it would burst over Belgium, and I crossed
the frontier from France with the _Eagle_, to offer my services. I'm
glad now I failed in the hope that brought me over from America to
England. I wanted to join Shackleton's Polar expedition, but he had no
need of me."
"So that was why you came to England?"
"Yes. I told you it wasn't for the sole purpose of testing my feelings
at St. George's Church. Being in London----"
"I understand. But, oh, Eagle! To _think_ you would have gone away for
years without bidding me good-bye!"
"You don't quite understand yet or you wouldn't say that." His eyes were
wistful. "I was disgraced--put beyond the pale, down and out, unless I
could work my way up again out of the mud. Mentally, I was a sick man.
Now I see clearer. I'm on my way to get well in spite of scars. Life or
death will cure me soon. It doesn't much matter which!"
It mattered to me--mattered so much that I could not speak.
* * * * *
A few hours later I had said good-bye to all my friends at the Liége
hospital. Again I was a passenger of the _Golden Eagle_, flying through
darkness as once I had flown through sunshine. Hidden by the night, we
winged our way to Brussels safely and surely, and landed outside the
town after forty minutes in the air--forty minutes which seemed to me
worth as many years.
We came down in a farm field, safely but not silently, and waked the
farmer, and his three sons not yet of soldier age. They ran out with
rifles prepared for any emergency, but a few words of explanation warmed
their hearts to welcome us.
I with my little bundle--my only luggage--was taken to the wife and
mother, who exclaimed over me as if I had dropped from another planet,
and gave me a bed for the rest of the night. One of the boys offered to
guard the monoplane while Eagle went off on the bicycle of the other
into town with dispatches from General Leman to the king.
In the morning "Monsieur Mars" came back with the news that a party of
English ladies were starting for home in the care of a clergyman, and
that he had asked if I might go with them. They had consented to take
me, and I must be ready in twenty minutes. An automobile belonging to an
officer would call for me at the farm. It came promptly, and in it Eagle
and I had our last minutes alone together. We talked cheerfully; but I
knew as well as he knew that the chances were ten to one against our
ever meeting again on earth.