MAJOR STRAUSE.
[Illustration: Chapter XVII drop-cap J]
Just about this time there was a curious change observable in Major
Strause. Hitherto his character had been all that was contemptible.
He was deep in debt; he was met at every turn by money difficulties.
He was also a confirmed gambler. In order to keep himself in any
degree straight, he had stooped to the lowest of crimes, and was in
every sense of the word a most selfish man. Nevertheless, at the
present moment no one could consider Major Strause selfish. When he
was not absolutely engaged in his military duties, he spent his time in
the hospital. He turned out to be not only a clever but also a tender
nurse. He did exactly what Sister Mollie told him; he even sat with
her worst cases at night; and was, she could not help expressing it,
invaluable.
The fact was, two things had happened to Major Strause. In the first
place, at Ladysmith his most pressing creditors could not trouble him;
therefore, for the time being at any rate, he was not up to his ears in
money difficulties. The second thing was this: he had fallen in love,
passionately in love, with Sister Mollie. He was not a particularly
young man--in fact, his years were very little short of forty--but
until he met Mollie he had never honestly and truly, and as he thought
unselfishly, cared for any one. He was not a marrying man, and if he
thought of matrimony at all, he certainly thought of it as an aid to a
fortune. If he met a rich, very rich girl who would have him, why,
then, his money troubles might cease to exist. He certainly would not,
under any circumstances, marry a poor one.
But love will work wonders even in natures like Major Strause's, and he
no longer thought of money in connection with a possible wife. He knew
well that Sister Mollie had little or no private means. He was fond of
saying to himself that, when he looked at her brave and noble face, he
ceased to think of money. The more he thought of her, the more deeply
did he love her. He dreamed of her at night; to be in her society by
day was heaven to him.
This was the real secret of the change in the major. It was because of
Mollie he had become unselfish, a useful nurse, an invaluable servant
of the Queen. Mollie improved him not only as a nurse, but also as an
officer. He would rather do anything than catch the scorn in her eyes.
So he fought bravely, and led his men to the front in the sorties made
against the Boers. His brother officers began to like him, and even
Keith, who quickly recovered from his wound, wondered what had come to
the major. He was an old enough man to keep his emotions to himself,
and neither Mollie herself nor Keith--who listened for Mollie's
slightest footfall, who lived on her smile, who was consoled by her
touch--guessed for a single moment that Strause cared for her.
Both Keith and Strause just then were playing a difficult game: for
Keith, while engaged to one girl, devotedly loved another; and Strause
was endeavouring by every means in his power to hide that part of him
which was unworthy from Sister Mollie's eyes. Both men, after a
fashion, were succeeding. Mollie, in the stress and strain of her
present life, had more or less forgotten the curious story Keith had
told her with regard to Strause. She was destined to remember it all
too vividly by-and-by, but just then she was glad of his help. She
learned to lean upon him, and to consult him with regard to those cases
of delirium and extreme danger which were brought into the little
hospital day by day.
The other nurses all depended more or less on Mollie, and she took the
lead in this time of great peril.
As to Keith, his task was even more difficult than that the major had
assigned to himself; for if ever there was an _exigeante_ and jealous
girl on the face of God's earth, it was Kitty Hepworth. She expected
the undivided attention of the man she was engaged to. He liked her,
and was intensely sorry for her. He was touched by her devotion to
himself, and he did all that man could to render her stay in the
beleaguered town as happy as it could be. He did not know until
afterwards how much he was indebted to Katherine Hunt for his measure
of success. She was possessed of enormous tact. She had the wisdom of
ten ordinary women. When she was not writing accounts of the siege for
_The Snowball_, she was attending on the sick and wounded, visiting the
inhabitants of the town, cheering up the frightened mothers, comforting
the children, helping to give out the rations. There was nothing that
this clever and unselfish girl could not put her hand to; there was
nothing she did not do more or less well.
As to Keith, he rejoiced when he saw her entering the hotel. He could
be affectionate to Kitty, who had very little to say, and listen to
Katherine's brilliant conversation; and Kitty could not be jealous of
Katherine, try hard as she might. After the first week she got a fresh
return of the malarial fever, and was from that moment more or less
exempt from giving her services to the sick men in the hospital. Thus
she seldom saw Keith in her sister's presence, and in consequence her
fears slumbered, and she tried to believe that she was the happiest
girl on earth, and that no one could be more loved than she.
But with such dangerous elements at work it was scarcely to be expected
that this time of peace and apparent security could be of long
continuance. Strause was not the man to hold himself in check long,
and Keith began to find the yoke which tied him to Kitty more galling
every day. When all was still at night he often went across to the
hospital; he felt safe to go there then. Kitty was asleep in her room
in the hotel, Long Tom was not troubling anybody; but the sick and
dying were wanting help and consolation, and, what was more important
to Keith, although he did not dare to whisper it even to himself,
Mollie was there. He might do some trifle for her; he might help her
in an hour of need.
There came a night after one of the many battles when such a number of
wounded had been brought to the hospital that every nurse in the town
was requisitioned to look after them. The enteric cases were also
getting more and more numerous; there was not a bed to spare. Keith
resolved to sit up all night in order to give what help he could. He
met Mollie at the door of the enteric ward.
"I am at your service for to-night," he said.
"Thank God," she answered. "We shall need all the help we can get."
"Which ward shall I go to--the surgical or enteric?"
She looked around her. They were standing just then at the entrance to
the surgical ward: the doctors, two or three of whom were present, were
busy attending to the suffering patients; an amputation was going on
behind a screen in a distant corner; the groans of the dying reached
the ears of the man and woman as they stood so close together, and yet
so truly far from each other. Keith, even at that extreme moment,
thought of the tie which bound him to Kitty; and Mollie, as she raised
her eyes to look into his face, felt a great throb of her heart. How
manly he was, how brave, how all that a woman could love and worship!
Just at this instant she raised her hand and laid it on his arm.
"Will you not go and rest for an hour?" she said; "you look terribly
spent."
"And you?" he answered, "are you never tired out?"
"Oh, don't think of me; I am happy in my work."
"And I in mine," he replied. "It is for our country and our Queen. I
can hold out; I won't leave you."
"Thank God!" she could not help saying; and as she said the words,
Keith for one instant, carried out of himself, laid his hand on hers.
She coloured all over her face, looked full up at him, and her brown
eyes filled with tears.
Strause, who for the last hour had been busy and invaluable in the
enteric ward, came upon this scene. His deep-set, dark eyes grew
suddenly bloodshot. He gave an evil glance full at Keith, looked at
Mollie, who did not even see him, and went back again to his duties.
But the sleeping devil was awakened; and the man, although he did not
fail for one instant during the livelong night to do what was
necessary, and no sufferer within reach missed his accustomed
nourishment or his necessary medicine, was all the time plotting and
planning how he could best foil his enemy, Captain Keith. Having
injured Keith for his own purposes--having cast the blackest of
imputations upon his character--he was naturally the young man's enemy.
And now Keith had dared to look with unmistakable fervour into the
clear brown eyes of Nurse Mollie! Strause trembled all over as he
thought of it.
"He is a scoundrel. I need no longer feel remorse. He is engaged to
one sister, but he loves the other," thought the major. "I will spoil
his game for him. He shall never have my Mollie; she shall be engaged
to me before twenty-four hours are over."
In the early dawn of the coming day, just before Long Tom began his
murderous work, Mollie stood for a moment outside the hospital. She
was feeling faint after a night of great anguish and terror. Many
souls had gone up above the clear stars to meet their Maker during the
hours which had passed away. Mollie thought of the anguish which would
fill hearts at home for the gallant and the brave who had given up
their lives for their country. One poor young fellow, in particular,
had given her a last message to his mother.
"Cut off a bit of my hair," he had said, "and give it to me to kiss.
Ah, thanks! that is all right. Tell her I was not a bit afraid, that I
remembered the--_prayer_ she used to teach me, and I feel somehow
that--that it is all right, you know. Put the hair in a bit of paper
and send it to her. Be sure you tell her it is all right. You know it
is, don't you? _Be sure_ you tell her."
And Mollie had promised, and the boy had closed his blue eyes and gone
off to sleep like a baby. Now he was dead, and Mollie had the little
lock of hair pinned inside the bosom of her dress. She was standing so
when Strause came up and stood by her side. He gave her a look, saw
that she was very faint and tired, and rushed into the little surgery,
where restoratives, beef tea, bovril, etc., were to be found.
He mixed a cup of bovril, and brought it to her.
"Drink this," he said. "You are doing more than mortal woman can be
expected to do. You must go and lie down for a few hours."
She drank the bovril and returned him the empty cup.
"Thank you. How good you are!" she said.
"Who would not be good to you?" he replied.
She did not answer; she was looking far away. He doubted if she heard
him. The utter calm, the quietness of her attitude, impressed while it
maddened him. His passion rose in a great tide. He suddenly took her
hand.
"Don't you know?" he said--"don't you know?"
"Don't I know what, Major Strause? I don't understand," she said, and
she gave him a bewildered glance.
"O Mollie!" he cried, "don't you know what I think of you? Don't you
know that there is not in all this world a more magnificent woman than
you? Mollie, I love you. Mollie, don't turn away. I worship you--I
love you--I would die for you. I can't do more. Just give me a
vestige of hope, and there is not a thing I would not do--not a thing.
Say you love me back--say you love me back! Look at me. O my darling,
my darling, how I love you!"
"Hush!" she said then; "you have no right to use such words. And now,
who can think of such things? Major Strause, forget you ever said
them."
"Forget," he said, "when my heart is on fire! I cannot see you without
the maddest passion rising up in my heart. I have loved you from the
first hour we met. Only give me hope, and I won't worry you until we
are out of this horrid place."
She turned white, and leaned against the wall. His words were just the
straw too much, and the next instant she burst into a flood of tears.
When the strong and the brave give way, it is always a painful sight,
and now Mollie's tears were as the final straw to Strause. He could
not stand them. The next instant he swept his strong arms round her.
"You shall give me what I want," he said--"one kiss. Give it to me at
once. You will drive me mad if you refuse."
These words acted as a cold douche: she recovered her self-control in a
moment. Disengaging herself from his embrace, she backed away from him.
"I am sorry for you," she said. "You are mistaken. I could never by
any possibility love you. Forget that you have spoken."
"You can never love me!" he said. "Do you mean to tell me that
you--reject me?"
"We won't talk of it, Major Strause. But yes, it is only kind to put
you out of your pain. I am sorry for you, very sorry, but I can never
marry you."
"Has any one been maligning me?"
"No; and you have done splendidly since you came here. We have all
admired you. You don't know what the nurses think of you, and how loud
they are in your praise. Don't, don't spoil everything now, just for a
personal feeling. Who can think of himself at moments like these. Be
brave right on to the end, and let your conscience be your reward."
"That is all too high for me," he cried. "It may suit you, Sister
Mollie, but I am not made of that stuff. I came to the wards because
of you, and for nothing else. Do you think I wanted to give my
strength nursing those fellows, and sitting in those beastly smelling
wards, drinking in enteric poison and all the rest? No; I did what I
did for you, Sister Mollie, and you are bound to give me something as
my reward. You had no right to encourage me."
"I never did," replied the girl.
"Didn't you though? Yes, and what's more, I believe you would have had
me but for-- Oh, I know what's up: you care for that other chap."
"What do you mean?"
"You are in love with Keith, although he is engaged to your sister.
Now listen."
"Hush!" replied Mollie. She was not white any longer; she was strong
and rosy, and there was a proud light in her eyes and a firmness about
her lips. "I won't listen to you," she said--"no, not another single
word. I am utterly ashamed of you!"
There was a scorn in her tone which stung him. He held out his hand to
detain her, but she re-entered the hospital. For the rest of that day
he saw nothing of her. He did not attempt to go back to the hospital.
He retired to his own tin hut, where he cursed and swore, and finally
drank himself into a state of oblivion.
In the evening four companies marched across the open grass land
towards Observatory Hill, and Major Strause was amongst them. They
marched in fours towards the foot of the hill, and then began to climb
up. Not a word was spoken, and the Boers did not give a sign till the
men were within twenty feet of the top. Then the firing began. Our
men fixed swords and charged to the top with splendid cheers. Major
Strause was amongst the bravest of that gallant band, but all the time,
while he fought and rushed forward and appeared to forget himself, he
was thinking of Mollie Hepworth. What mattered his bodily sensations?
There was a thirst which raged round his heart greater than any danger.
He was determined to get Mollie. She must be his even if she did not
love him.
"I shall frighten her into it," he said to himself. "I have a good
case, and I will put it to her. She cares for Keith; any one can see
it. What are women made of? A spiritless chap without funds--I have
drained most of that wretched legacy--and yet there are two women madly
in love with him! It can't only be his handsome phiz; a woman like
Mollie Hepworth wants more than mere beauty. Keith, in my opinion, is
not half a man. If he were, he would never sit down under the
imputation I have fastened on him. Well, he has done for himself now.
It will stick like a burr when the time comes, and come it will if I
can't get Mollie without its help."
As Strause thought these thoughts he raised his eyes, and saw Keith
with a company of his men a little way off. Keith was rushing
forward--he and his men with their swords fixed. The Boers were firing
heavily. Just by sheer dash and consummate bravery Keith and his men
took the position, and the Boers were driven back.
"It is because he believes that she loves him," thought the major. "If
a man were sure of that, it would give him such courage that there
would be nothing he would not dare. All the same, he did it bravely; I
am the last to deny that fact. He will get his V.C., and then he'll be
more a hero than ever with those two women. Once I get her I'll leave
him alone. There are two things which I can do--two strong levers
which must be brought to bear upon the position. They are like great
siege guns in their way, and they will carry the fort, the fort of a
woman's heart--yes, if I am not greatly mistaken."
The major bided his time; and as though to aid him just then, there
came an incident which certainly was in his favour. He had come
unscratched out of the sortie, but he had caught a chill, and fever of
a slight character supervened. He immediately suggested that he should
be moved into hospital. There happened to be a vacant bed, and the
major occupied it. Now Mollie would nurse him; she could not avoid him
when he was ill and suffering. His eyes followed her as she walked
about the ward. To his distress and dismay, however, she appointed
Katherine Hunt to look after the angry major.
Katherine was now almost as often in the ward as one of the trained
nurses. She had a head on her shoulders, and could do anything that a
girl might be supposed capable of doing. When the major was brought
in, she had gone to Mollie and told her.
"Your friend Major Strause is down with fever," she said: "I suppose
you will take his case?"
Mollie coloured, and a wistful look came into her eyes.
"I think not," she answered.
"I will look after him if you wish," said Katherine eagerly.
"I should be so much obliged. I don't suppose he is very ill, and I
cannot leave the surgical cases to-night."
Accordingly Katherine was the one who gave Major Strause his medicines,
his cooling drinks and his other comforts. He bore with her for a
time. There had been a moment when he would have given ten years of
his life to have Katherine Hunt, the daughter of the millionaire,
waiting on him. But his passion made him impervious to money just now,
and he felt that if all the riches of the world were to be offered him
with Katherine, and Mollie were to come to him penniless, he would
choose her. But next best to Mollie was Katherine Hunt, and he
determined, if possible, to make her his friend.
"Why does not Miss Kitty Hepworth do her share of the nursing?" he said
towards morning, when Katherine had time to linger by his bedside for a
moment.
"Because she is not strong enough. We have had to forbid her to come
to the hospital," replied Katherine.
"She is a poor sort; don't you think so?" said the major.
"I certainly do not," replied Katherine, with some indignation.
He looked at her, and gave the ghost of a smile.
"I know why she doesn't come," he said.
"There is no mystery about it," replied Katherine. "She is anything
but strong. We have to look after her."
"When is she going to marry Keith? Why don't you hurry on the wedding?"
"We don't have weddings in Ladysmith," was the girl's reply.
"I don't see why you should not; there are parsons here, and all the
rest. It would be about the best thing possible for Miss Kitty. I'll
let her know as much when I see her."
"I hope you won't do so much mischief, Major Strause. Kitty is content
to be close to Gavon. No wedding could be contemplated for a moment."
"She's likely to lose him if she doesn't look out."
Katherine did not even ask him what he meant; she stood and fixed her
eyes upon him. He shuffled under their clear gaze.
"Look here," he said, "I'd like to do you a good turn. You are very
fond of Miss Kitty Hepworth, are you not?"
"Of course I am," replied Katherine.
"You would not like her heart to be broken?"
"Certainly not."
"And in the most insufferable way," he added. "But I won't explain
myself now, Miss Hunt. You and I have been good friends at home."
"We have been acquaintances at home," replied Katherine. "I am afraid,
Major Strause, I have no more time to give you just at present."
"Oh, don't go, for mercy's sake!" He stretched out his hand and tried
to catch her dress. She moved away from him.
"You forget yourself," she said haughtily.
"I don't," he replied. "But stoop down. I am a desperate man. Why
are you nursing me?"
"Why am I nursing you!"
"Yes, why?"
"Do you disapprove of my services?"
"No; you are first-rate--a grand girl! I did not know it was in you
when I saw you in town. I thought you were just one that was well
supplied with worldly pelf. I did not know you had what I see you
have. Now, Miss Hunt, if you will do me a good turn--why, one good
turn deserves another, and you will never regret it, never. I want to
see Sister Mollie. I have something that I wish to say to
her--something which will save a great deal of trouble. Will you send
her to me? At this hour most of the patients are quiet: anyhow, you
can stay in the surgical ward. All I want you to do is to send her,
and just keep the other nurses a little away. Will you?"
"You are disturbing the patients, talking so much."
"But will you?"
"I will do nothing of the sort."
"I'll get up then myself and find her."
"Oh, don't talk nonsense, Major Strause. I believe you are delirious."
"Yes, I am. I am very bad indeed--very bad. You are a good nurse, but
you don't understand all cases of illness. Send Sister Mollie to me."
His face was nearly purple, his eyes bloodshot. Katherine touched his
arm--it burnt like a coal. She suddenly felt alarmed.
"All right. Do stay quiet," she said. "Don't wake the other poor
fellows. Ah! there's that poor boy Hudson; he has only just dropped
asleep. Oh, I will do anything rather than disturb the ward. Stay
quiet, and I will bring her to you."