IN THE HOSPITAL.
[Illustration: Chapter XIX drop-cap K]
Kitty was supposed to be weak; but when this information was quietly
given her by Major Strause, she showed no weakness. Even the pallor
left her face, giving place to a rosy red. Just for an instant she
staggered; then she regained her self-control, and sat down on her sofa.
"Don't sit on that chair," she said; "come near me and tell me why--why
you said such an awful thing as that to me."
Major Strause replied by giving Kitty a full account of the two
occasions on which he had seen Mollie and Keith together. He described
with vividness and power that hand-clasp and those few words, and then
with greater power he got his excitable hearer to understand the look
which filled Gavon's eyes and the look which filled Mollie's eyes on
the next occasion when he had seen them together. And Kitty, who had
been jealous of her sister from the first, gave a heavy, very heavy
sigh.
"You need not tell me any more," she said. "I know you are right. I
know you have just said what is the truth."
"And you are satisfied to sit down under it?" was the major's remark.
"No, I am not."
"Yet you must be. You are willing to give up your lover to your
sister. Your sister is a very fine woman, a very noble woman, and you
are willing, for your sister's sake, to submit to this act of extreme
renunciation."
"Never!" said Kitty, "never!
"Ah, now you speak with spirit. And the renunciation is not necessary,
believe me. You can, if you will take my advice, keep your lover for
yourself."
"Yes!"
"I know a way in which you can not only keep him, but get him to love
you just as passionately as he now loves Nurse Mollie."
"Do you indeed, Major Strause? If there is such a way, believe me I
will take it."
"I think you will. You must listen attentively."
"I will listen," said Kitty.
"In the first place, you must completely change your mode of life. You
must not shrink any longer from terrible sights, nor from unselfish
actions; you must not spend all your time in this dull, wretched
room--any one would get hipped who lived in a place of this sort; you
must show your pluck and spirit; you must go back to the hospital; you
must learn the duties of a nurse; and you must not leave your sister
and Keith alone."
"I will not," said Kitty. Her cheeks were flaming and her eyes shining.
"That is right. You will be twice the girl you are now. You will
cease to fear Long Tom when you have so many other things to fear."
"I don't really mind Long Tom," answered Kitty, and as she spoke she
gave a shudder. "I think," she added, "that I would almost like a
shell to come in and--end everything; for oh, your words have made me
so very miserable!"
"I was obliged to speak; but, after all, the very pain you now suffer
may be your means of deliverance. It is necessary, absolutely
necessary for your sake, to take extreme steps. The thing is serious;
it can only be combated by extreme measures."
"What way is that? oh, do tell me! I shall always look upon you as my
greatest friend if you save me from the terrible fate which seems
hanging over me."
"Remember you are never to breathe that I was your informant."
"I never will."
"Well, you must act with guile. In the first place, you must go back
to the hospital. You will soon have proof that your sister loves
Keith, and that Keith loves her. Tell your sister, or Miss Hunt, that
you are very much better, and that you are going back to the hospital
to do what little good you can. If you show tact and spirit, you will
soon learn your duties, and your sister will be pleased with you; and
what is far more important, Captain Keith will be pleased with you.
You will be no longer the pretty nonentity who has come to Ladysmith to
be a trouble and a worry. No woman ought to be a trouble and a worry
who lives in Ladysmith now."
"Yes, but I don't care to be a heroine. You may think nothing of me,
but I really don't. If I act as you suggest, how will it get me back
Gavon's love?"
"In the first place, he will cease to despise you."
"Oh, he cannot despise me--my darling cannot despise me!" said Kitty,
and her lips trembled.
"I am sorry to have to say it, but I greatly fear he does despise you.
If you were to look into his heart, you would find that he does. He
has his faults--no one has more reason to know that than myself--but he
is not a nonentity. He is a brave soldier, and he would not like the
girl he marries to be a coward. Now, while you stay in this room, you
are acting a coward's part. Go back to the hospital, reinstate
yourself, and see that what I tell you is the truth. You will not be
very long before you know. Not that Captain Keith makes love to your
sister in so many words--he would not do that sort of thing for
worlds--but there is a love which fills the eyes when the lips never
speak; and if you watch you will see it, and you will also see the same
expression in your sister's eyes, although she also would not speak of
her love for worlds. When you see that love in her eyes and in Keith's
eyes, the time will have come for you to speak openly to your sister,
and that is what I am coming to."
"Yes!" said Kitty.
"Now, Miss Hepworth, I am really going to confide in you. There is one
way, and only one, to save the position."
"What is that, Major Strause?"
"Your sister Mollie must marry me."
"O Major Strause!"
"Yes; I love her madly. I love her with the most pure,
self-sacrificing passion. I would do anything on earth for her. She
must become my wife here, in Ladysmith, and thus _you_ are saved.
Captain Keith is not the man to love her after she is my wife."
"But if Mollie doesn't love you?" said Kitty, trembling very much, and
fixing her eyes full on the major's flushed face.
"She shall love me; and you must bring it about. I am determined to
win her. If she won't have me after you have spoken, I have another
lever to bring to bear. It will be her mission to save you and to save
Captain Keith; for if she doesn't, as there is a God in heaven, you go
under, and he goes under. Now I have spoken; now I think you
understand."
As the major spoke he rose to his feet.
"But I don't understand," said Kitty.
"That is all you are to understand to-night. Go to the hospital
to-morrow. I have spoken the truth. The way to save the situation is
to get your sister Mollie to marry me."
"If she doesn't love you, she will not marry you."
"Watch Miss Hepworth; be silent, be wary, watch! and when you see what
I know you will see, then speak to her--tell her to her face that she
loves him. She will deny it, perhaps, or perhaps she will confess it.
If she does, you are to tell her there is only one way out--_she must
marry me_! If she refuses, let me know. I shall have another lever to
bring to bear. Now, good-night, Miss Hepworth."
The major strode from the room. Kitty looked wildly round her. She
was alone, and night was over the scene. Even over the doomed city of
Ladysmith the moon shone, and there was a white sort of fragrance in
the air, and the dust no longer covered everything. The beleaguered
town lay quiet under the wing of sleep--that is, all those slept who
were not suffering from enteric, or from deadly wounds, or from the
slow, the slow, cruel death of starvation; for already rations were
short, and food was precious. The uneasy neighing of half-fed horses
came to Kitty's ears as she went and stood by the open window. She did
not heed, she did not care; she was selfishly absorbed in her own mad
thoughts, her own wild grief.
The door was opened, and Katherine Hunt came in.
"Well, Kitty," she said, "any better?"
"Yes, much better," said Kitty. She turned, and faced Katherine.
"Come over here and let me look at you," said Katherine suddenly.
She took Kitty's hand and drew her towards the lamp. She looked full
into her face. Kitty's face was very white, her eyes were too big, and
the black marks under them too dark for health. But just now the eyes
were bright and the lips were firm, and there was a hectic flush on
each thin cheek.
"I thought you looked well, but I doubt if you do," said Katherine.
"You look strange. Is anything the matter?"
"No," said Kitty, "no; only, Kate--"
"Yes!"
"I am going to turn over a new leaf."
"I wish you would, with all my heart. Oh, I have brought you something
nice for supper!"
"What?"
"A little, precious, precious pot of bovril. You must make it go as
far as you can. I doubt if I can get you another."
"I was hungry at dinner-time--we had a very poor dinner--but I am not
hungry now," said Kitty; "only I am thirsty," she added.
"Well, you shall have a drink, but you must eat too. A cup of bovril
and some bread will make quite a nice supper for you. Don't throw away
good food now."
"Is food really scarce in Ladysmith?" said the girl.
"Not yet; but we don't know how long the siege will last. I think Sir
George White is anxious; he wants relief to come quickly. It is being
strangely delayed. Oh, we are all right, of course, but our enemies
are the sort who will sit down and wait for any length of time. They
are not a foe to be despised. We are hemmed in, and the provisions
cannot last for ever. Milk is the most pressing want just now. I was
passing a house, when a mother came out and asked me if I could get her
even a very little milk. She said her baby was dying for want of it.
I went in and looked at the poor little thing. It had lived for a week
on sugar and water. And the orders now are that all the milk is to be
kept for the sick, I could not get her any. While I was with her the
child had a slight convulsion, and died. That is the sixth baby that
has died in Ladysmith to-day."
"How gloomy!" said Kitty.
"Why do you speak in that tone? Aren't you sorry?"
"No, I don't think I am. No; it is best for the little babies. Oh,
oh, oh, I am so unhappy!"
She burst into tears. Katherine kissed her.
"Now, cheer up!" she said. "You stay so much alone! You would be much
better if you did what I do. Just go about and fling yourself into the
trouble, and do your very best for those who are in distress and
suffering, and misery and fear--the deadly fear of death. And yet why
should people be afraid?"
"I am not," said Kitty; "I was, but I am not. I was going to tell you
that I am about to turn over a new leaf. I am going back to the
hospital to-morrow."
"Are you really, Kitten?" said Kate, looking with interest at the girl.
"And are you going to be a brave kitten--not to cry out if you are
hurt, not to be troubled if everything is not quite your way? Are you
going really to help? For if so, you can, and you will be all the
better for it."
"Yes, I am going to help," answered the girl; "but I don't at all know
that I am brave, and I don't at all know that I shan't cry out.
Anything is better than sitting in this room and waiting for Long Tom's
kisses."
"Mollie will be pleased."
Kitty gave a shudder.
"I never met a finer woman than your sister. Try to copy her, and you
will be a blessing in Ladysmith."
Kitty's shudder this time was invisible. She knew that she must act
with guile if she would follow out Major Strause's wishes.
Early next morning she put on a clean white dress, tied a big apron
round her slim waist, and followed Katherine into the hospital.
Katherine took her in with a certain air of triumph. She brought her
straight up to Mollie, who was busily engaged dealing out the food
necessary for the sick during the coming twenty-four hours. Nurse
Eugenia was waiting for instructions; another nurse, who was called in
the ward Nurse Helen, was not far off. The two nurses narrowed their
eyes, and looked with anything but favour at Kitty as she came in.
"That little hysterical girl! we don't want her here," thought Nurse
Eugenia.
"She's too pretty to be useful," thought Nurse Helen. "But, all the
same, the men, poor fellows, like to look at her. I wouldn't trust her
out of my sight for a moment. But she's pretty, and even that's
something."
Kitty did look very pretty. There was a pink flush on her cheeks, and
her eyes were very bright. She had scarcely slept all the night
before. Long Tom was sending shells at intervals into Ladysmith, and
the noise of a great explosion fell upon Kitty's ears now as Katherine
took her up to her sister.
"This is the Kitten, and she's going to do more than a kitten's work
to-day," said Katherine.
"Ah, Kitty!" said Mollie, "I am glad to see you. But are you strong
enough, darling?"
"Of course I am," said Kitty--"quite strong enough. I want to do
something. Give me some work please, Mollie. I mean to stay in the
hospital."
"There's a poor young man who has been badly hurt in his leg. He is
discontented and nervous. Sit down by him and talk to him," said
Mollie. "Here, bed number five."
She took Kitty's hand, and they crossed the ward. The young man was a
private in one of the infantry regiments. His ankle bone was badly
shattered. He had gone through great agonies, but was feeling
comparatively easy now.
"This is my sister, Lawson," said Mollie. "She will sit with you for a
little. She would like to read you your home letters, and she can
write a letter at your dictation if you wish it. Anyhow, she will try
to amuse you."
Kitty sat down very shyly. She had her mission full in view. She was
not forgetting herself for a single instant, but, all the same, the
cases in the surgical ward made her nervous. She hoped no fresh
wounded men would be brought in while she was present, and that no
operations would take place anywhere within earshot. She felt that her
own courage was of the poorest quality, and that if Long Tom sent any
kisses in her direction she might shrink.
"But I must not," she said, "for if I do they would turn me out; and it
is my only chance to stay here, and--and use my eyes."
"Shall I read you anything?" she said, raising her pretty eyes, as the
thought came to her, to Lawson's face.
"If you would, miss," he answered. "I'd like to hear all the home
letters read over one by one. Here they are, miss."
He indicated a pile of letters which were pushed under his pillow.
Kitty took them out. They were tied with a bit of red ribbon.
"They are from my mother, miss, and my--the young woman I keep company
with."
"Oh!" answered Kitty. She looked with interest at Lawson. His mother
was nothing to her; but his sweetheart! A fellow-feeling made her
kind. "Is she very fond of you?" she asked suddenly.
"Is Annie fond of me, miss?" he replied. "I should think she is just;
and I--oh, I adore her, miss! She wanted us to marry afore I come out;
but I said best not--best wait till I get back with my V.C. I won't
never get that now, miss; and they say I'll limp all the rest of my
days."
"I don't suppose she will mind that," answered Kitty.
"Indeed and she won't, miss. Annie wouldn't mind nothing if only she
had me with her. Bless her, she's as fine a girl as ever walked. I'm
fair hungering to hear from her. It's such a long time since we had
any letters. Sometimes I think that's about the worst of anything in
the siege. I wouldn't mind having a bullet in my other ankle and
starving half my time, if only I had a long, long letter from mother
and my brother and Annie. But we don't get letters, nor news of any
sort. That's the hardest part of the siege."
"I suppose it is," answered Kitty.
It was not the hardest to her, for those she cared for most were with
her in Ladysmith. Nevertheless she appreciated some of the hunger she
saw shining out of Lawson's keen grey eyes.
"You'd like me to show you Annie's picture, perhaps, miss?"
"I would like to see it very much," answered Kitty.
Lawson was too ill to move, but he directed Kitty where to slip her
hand, and where to find, under his bolster, a photograph-case. She
opened it under his orders, and saw a full-faced girl of a common type,
with frowsy hair and a showily-made dress.
"Ain't she a beauty?" said the young man. "And she's mine, too--mine.
I think a lot of her when I lie awake at night. She'll make me a right
good wife. She'll take in washing--Annie's grand at the laundry."
Kitty drew him on to talk. He forgot his pain when he talked of his
sweetheart. Kitty did not care to hear him speak of his mother, whom
he also loved very much; she thought this kind of conversation dull.
All the time, while she listened, her restless eyes darted here and
there. She felt certain that she would get very white if Captain Keith
came into the ward.
But Keith was not coming into the ward that day. He was fighting for
dear life and country outside Ladysmith against the Boers. Had Kitty
known this, even the small measure of tranquillity which was hers would
have deserted her.
Long Tom continued to send in shells, and Puffing Billy helped him.
But Lady Anne answered back, and managed, after a time, to silence Long
Tom. With each explosion Kitty gave a start.
"Be you afeard of the firing, miss?" asked Lawson.
"Yes," she answered, with a shudder; "but please don't tell any one."
"I won't, miss; but you ain't no cause to be frightened while you are
here. 'Tain't likely they'll send a shell right over the orspital.
They know the orspital by the Red Cross flag. No one would be mean
enough for that."
"I think they are mean enough for anything," replied Kitty.
"Not so mean as that," answered Lawson, and he shook his head as one
who knew.
The firing went on, and presently Kitty, in her alarm, found herself
clasping the hand of Private Lawson. He held her little hand tightly
in his. He was fond of saying during the next day that the feel of
that little warm hand had supported him during the extreme of his pain;
for his ankle became dreadfully inflamed, and the agony was intense.
After that interview he took a great interest in Kitty. She was the
pretty little lady, who was no nurse, bless her, but who was so very
human, so very like what he pictured his own girl in his dreams to be.
Only his own girl would not have been afraid of the shells, and would
have turned to, there and then, to do a lot of laundry work for the
sick soldiers. There was no one in the world less like Kitty than this
girl, who was brusque, and determined, and strong in character, and
faithful and unselfish to her backbone. But Kitty had her uses that
day in the hospital, all the same. She supported Jim Lawson through
his darkest hour, and just because she was nervous and frightened, for
her sake he must keep brave and calm; and God only knew what a hero the
little girl made of him for the time being.