MOLLIE'S PERSECUTOR.
[Illustration: Chapter XXII drop-cap T]
The next day the bombardment was severe. Long Tom at his nearer range
was more formidable than ever, and no less than two hundred and fifty
shells burst in the town and forts. Only the cave dwellers felt safe.
Even the cattle were beginning to suffer. The noise caused by the
constant firing was incessant. The wounded could not sleep, and the
doctors and nurses found it impossible to do their difficult work
properly. Rations for the sick, too, were running terribly short, and
comforts and dainties for the convalescent were far to seek and
impossible to find.
Mollie dreaded the time when the town hospital would be shut up, and
she might be forced to go to the hospital at Intombi. This, for many
reasons, she did not at all wish to do. The discomforts there were
indescribable. The dust lay like a thick layer over everything. The
noise of the firing was even more incessant than in the town of
Ladysmith. The place was low, too, and damp, and in no possible sense
of the word a fit situation for a hospital for men down with enteric or
with gunshot wounds. Nevertheless at that moment there were nine
hundred patients down with enteric at Intombi. Mollie hoped that her
work might keep her in the town itself.
All the beds in the Town Hall hospital were now full. She ministered
to the sick and dying as calmly and gently as though this were just an
ordinary hospital in London or any other part of England. Her nerve
was little short of marvellous. Mollie took complete control of the
surgical ward; the enteric ward she did not often enter--she had not
time. Kitty did not return to the hospital.
Captain Keith was much better, and went back to his usual work. Mollie
was glad of that. After Kitty's revelation and her unreasonable
jealousy, she felt that she must see as little as possible of Gavon
Keith. Major Strause came early to the hospital. He looked anxious.
There was an expression in his eyes which Mollie did not care to meet.
He looked at her, but did not speak to her. He went straight into the
enteric ward. He was coming to be regarded as quite a power among the
nurses and doctors, and more than one poor fellow breathed his last and
uttered his farewell words into the major's ears. The man was changed
in spite of himself, and it was Mollie's doing.
"But I cannot marry him," thought the poor girl, "even to relieve
Kitty's fears. That is quite impossible."
And then she was angry with herself for having any personal thoughts in
those fateful days.
On this special day the dust was terrible. It came in thick showers
through the windows, and disturbed the patients as much as the screams
of Long Tom. About half-past five p.m. came the climax to all their
woes. A shell burst into the roof of the hospital. It flung its
bullets far and wide over the sick and wounded. One bullet hit one
poor fellow right on the chest, went through his heart, and killed him
immediately. Nine others were hit, and many were seriously wounded.
The shock to the patients was terrible. There was no doubt whatever
that the Boer gunners had deliberately aimed at the Red Cross flag,
which, flying from the turret of the Town Hall, was visible for miles.
Mollie was standing close to the part of the hospital over which the
shell burst, but, wonderful to relate, she was not hurt. Major
Strause, however, was badly injured in the thigh. From being a help
and support to the overworked nurses, he was now himself one of the
wounded. It was no longer safe to remain in the Town Hall hospital,
and the sick and wounded were conveyed to the Congregational Chapel,
which was hastily turned into a hospital. Major Strause found himself
here, and in the surgical ward.
"You are bound to see me now," he said to Mollie, and he smiled up into
her face.
"I will do my best for you," she answered. "You are a very brave man."
A surgeon removed the splinters from the wound, and Major Strause bore
the agonies without having recourse to chloroform. Alas! the supplies
of chloroform were getting terribly short, and it was now only used for
extreme cases. Mollie bent over the major when the operation was at an
end, and did her best to make him comfortable. She was holding a
refreshing drink to his lips, when he suddenly seized her hand.
"Oh, if you would only make me the happiest of men!"
"Don't, Major Strause," she answered. "How can you talk of these
things now?"
"I only want your promise," he pleaded. "Oh, won't you promise me? I
was a man almost lost, but you are saving me."
She tore her hand away, and went off to see to another patient. But
now began a series of persecutions which tested the brave girl's
courage to the very utmost. Major Strause seemed determined to carry
on the siege by incessant small firing. He hardly ever let Mollie
alone. He was always calling her on one pretence or another, and
whenever she approached his side he told her how ardently he loved her,
and what a good man she would make him if she fielded to his
solicitations. Mollie, however, was firm. All this time he had never
once alluded to her sister, nor to Captain Keith, nor to anything but
the all-important fact that he loved Mollie, that he loved her with a
true and constant heart, and that he wanted her to return his love.
One day when he had spoken in this tone she suddenly burst into tears.
He was instantly full of contrition.
"What is the matter?" he said. "You cry! you, the brave, the constant,
the indefatigable, give way!"
"You are making me cry; you are wearing me out," said the girl. "I can
stand everything else--yes, everything else--but it lowers me when you
talk to me as you do."
He looked at her with a world of consternation and self-reproach in his
eyes.
"Is that true?" he said.
"Yes," she answered, sinking her voice to a whisper. A soldier in a
bed opposite was looking at her; she observed that he did so, and
turned her back on him. He turned away also, with the chivalry which
belongs to most brave soldiers. "You make me a spectacle before the
others," she continued. "Why do you make my life so wretched? Can't
you be generous? Can't you see that you are showing the reverse of
love when you act as you do?"
"Is there no hope at all for me?" he said.
"There is no hope--none," she answered. "I will be good to you; I
would marry you even, if I could, just to make you happy, but I can't.
Were I to marry you, you would be a very miserable man. I have no love
for you; on the contrary--"
"Yes!" he said; "speak."
"I will not say what I was going to say; but no woman who feels as I do
for you ought to marry you. It would be a mistake, and I will not do
wrong that right may come."
"Is that your firm resolve?" he said. "Ah, but you may do wrong that
right may come yet; you don't know all!"
She did not even ask him what he meant. He held out his hand.
"Take my hand," he said slowly.
There was something in his tone which made her obey him. She gave her
small, white hand into his clasp for a moment.
"I promise that as long as I am ill I will not persecute you by word or
deed," he said; and then, before she could prevent him, he raised her
hand to his lips and kissed it.
No one saw the action. The Sister of the Red Cross went away with her
cheeks on fire.
Meanwhile things were getting more and more gloomy in Ladysmith. The
real privations of the siege had now well begun. Enteric fever and
dysentery were steadily increasing, and food for both men and horses
was becoming very scarce. Ammunition also would have to be used with
care. The suffering amongst those who had no stores of their own to
fall back upon was getting more and more serious. Eggs were half a
guinea a dozen, potatoes one and six a pound, candles a shilling each.
Nothing could be bought in the way of drink except lemonade and soda
water, and the question of all questions was, what was to be done with
the horses. The difficulty amongst the sick was not so much to carry
them through their different crises, but to build up their strength
afterwards. All the milk in Ladysmith had long been reserved for use
in the hospitals, but even for the sick it was now running out. Those
who were ill began to say that convalescence was the hardest time of
all--there was nothing fit for them to eat. The question which
agitated the nurses and all those who had the ordering of supplies was
whether or not the horses should be boiled down for food.
Throughout all, however, Major Strause got steadily better. There came
a day when he was well enough to leave the hospital. Mollie herself
brought his things, and helped him once more to get into his uniform.
He had faithfully kept his word, and since the day when he had kissed
her hand, had never, even by a look, shown Mollie that he thought more
of her than of any other woman. Nevertheless she had a feeling that he
was only biding his time. She was too busy just then to see all she
might have seen of Kitty, but whenever she met her little sister, Kitty
invariably asked the same question--"Are you engaged yet to Major
Strause?" And Mollie invariably replied in the negative; whereupon
Kitty sighed and turned her head away.
The events of the last few weeks had affected not only Kitty, but
Mollie. Kitty indeed seemed to get thinner and thinner, and her small
face more and more white. There was a weary, very weary expression
about her eyes. She was _exigeante_ to Captain Keith when he came to
see her or she was sullen, and scarcely spoke at all. It was with
difficulty she could keep the words back from her lips: "You have never
loved me; you love my sister, not me." But hitherto she had refrained
from uttering these mad, wild words, and she hoped she would have
self-control until the end.
Mollie was also looking pale and fagged. It was not the nursing; it
was not the personal privations; it was not the long, weary hours when
she knew no sleep, and was indefatigable in looking after the sick and
wounded; but it was the trouble of her mind--the knowledge that she did
love Gavon Keith, the further assurance deep down in her heart that he
loved her, the dread fear that she was, after all, breaking Kitty's
heart--the dim outlook in the future. What was she to do? Oh, she
could not set things right by doing wrong--she could not do it!
On the day that Major Strause quitted the hospital Gavon Keith went to
see Kitty. He had not been with her for two or three days. He had
been very much occupied. The sorties against the Boers were more and
more frequent; and when in camp he had much to do, for each officer had
now to bear his part, if in no other way, in cheering up the soldiers
and making the best of things all round. Keith, too, was feeling the
effects of the siege. From time to time he had received slight
although nasty wounds, and the one on his leg, which Kitty had injured
by her application of the too strong lotion, had never quite healed.
It gave him incessant pain, and he limped slightly as he came now into
the girl's presence. Her heart was in her mouth; all the misery and
nervousness of the last few days were reflected in her small, thin
face. Keith had come away from a very anxious discussion regarding
ways and means with the other officers of his regiment. It had just
been decided that the cavalry horses were to be let loose. There was
great trouble amongst all the cavalry officers in consequence. Keith,
who belonged to an infantry regiment, had not, of course, his own
special horse, but he felt the trouble almost as much as the others.
When would relief come? When would Buller get any nearer? It was not
a moment for a girl's petty jealousy, for a girl's silly fears. The
moment he looked at Kitty--Kitty whom he did not really love--and saw
the expression on her small face and the discontent round her lips, it
seemed to the young officer that this was the last straw.
"Why have you not come in to see me before?" was her first remark.
"You may be thankful that I could come now," was his answer. "I have
been too busy. I have not had a single moment to devote to personal
matters."
"I am glad you think anything connected with me personal," was her
answer, and she went and stood, with her back to him, looking out of
the window. A shell burst a few yards away. She started, and glanced
nervously at Keith. "Why don't you speak?" said the girl. "It is bad
enough to be away for a few days, but then to come and--and to say
nothing! And you have not even kissed me!"
He strode up to her, laid a hand on each of her shoulders, drew her
towards him, and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
"Poor Kitty!" he said, "you are more to be pitied than any other woman
in Ladysmith. There are fifteen thousand people in the town all told,
and I don't believe there is a woman here more wretched than yourself!"
"Why do you say that?"
"I say it because I know it. Why won't you do things? You might copy
Katherine Hunt, for instance."
"Or Mollie," she said. She coloured crimson as she spoke, and then her
face turned white.
"Or Mollie, brave Nurse Mollie," answered Keith, and a rich colour dyed
his cheeks and mounted to his brow.
Kitty looked at him. She saw the expression in his eyes, and every
remnant of self-control deserted her.
"Gavon," she said, "I will have the truth. Oh, I should not be
miserable were it not for you! You come to see me when you cannot help
it; but you don't love me--you never loved me!"
He was silent; his lips took that hard, firm line which they wore at
times, but which Kitty had seldom seen; his eyelids narrowed slightly,
and he watched Kitty with a curious expression on his face. She was
too mad with rage and misery to be checked even by that look.
"You are recommended for your V.C.," she said; "and you will get it, I
suppose. Oh, I know you are brave, very brave against the Boers, but
you can hurt a woman who loves you for all that. You can be false and
faithless!"
"That is not true," he answered.
"It is true!" cried the girl. "You are busy, and you don't care; but I
am not busy, and I do care. You have no time to think; I have all the
long, long hours to think, and I think and think, and I know and know.
You don't love me; my heart will break. I came out here to be near
you, and ran untold dangers just to be by your side; but I am left in
this miserable hotel, and you come to see me only when you must."
"I come to see you when I can," he replied.
"It is not true," she said. "If you loved me as I love you, your heart
would be drawn to me. But it never, never is drawn to me; you only
come to see me when you must--and you love Mollie, not me. Deny it,
Gavon; tell me to my face that I am telling you a lie, and I will
believe you. I will believe no one else. But oh, you can't. You love
Mollie, and Mollie loves you, and it is cruel--oh, it is cruel! It is
the hardest fate that could overtake a poor girl--to love a man, and
for that man to love her sister. Oh, I am a miserable, most miserable
girl!"
"Stop, Kitty; you have said enough," cried Keith. "Now listen to me."
He spoke with great decision and suppressed passion, and there was a
power in his voice which arrested the weak, half-hysterical girl. "I
forbid you, Kitty, if we are to remain engaged to each other, ever to
say again what you have said to-day. I decline to answer your
accusation. If you don't wish for me as I am, give me up; but if you
do wish for me--and I have thought you did, Kitty--if you do wish for
me, you must take me as I am, with my faults, with the measure of love
I can give you--just as I am. When this siege is over (if it ever is
over), when we leave Ladysmith (if we ever do leave it), I will marry
you, and be as good a husband to you as God gives me grace to be; but I
will not answer your base accusations. If you believe what you say you
believe, why don't you give me back my freedom? why do you remain
engaged to me? I decline to answer your insinuations. And now
good-bye, Kitty. I will come back to see you, when perhaps you will be
in a better frame of mind."
He turned and left the room. He was in his full uniform, and he had
never looked more handsome. Kitty was terribly frightened when he left
her.
"I never meant to say that to him! Now he will never forgive me! But
I mean to marry him whether he loves Mollie or whether he does not,"
said the desperate girl to herself.
She thought for a minute, and then, carried out of herself, pinned on
her hat, and ran, just as she was, to the new hospital. She entered,
and stood waiting near the surgical ward. She saw Mollie in the
distance. Mollie was very busy; she was attending to several patients.
Major Strause had, as she hoped, gone quite away without saying
anything. Kitty did not attempt to call her sister; she kept looking
at her. To her jealous eyes each movement of Mollie's was torture.
She had to admit that beside Mollie she herself cut but a poor figure.
Even her very beauty, owing to her selfishness and self-indulgence, was
getting to be of the very poorest and shabbiest order. There was no
self-renunciation on her face; there was no light of courage in her
eyes: there was scarcely another woman in Ladysmith who did not show to
advantage against poor Kitty. And Mollie, who had beauty as well, how
splendid she looked this morning! How erect was her form, how stately
was her step, how firm and courageous and grand her nerve!
"No wonder he loves her; he can't help himself. Oh, I wish I were out
of the world!" thought the wretched girl.
Just at this moment Mollie caught sight of her. She had not seen Kitty
for two or three days. She gave a brief direction to a nurse who stood
near, and walked down the ward.
"Well, Kitty?" she said.
She went up to Kitty and took her hand; the girl pushed her back.
"I have come to say something."
"What is it, dear? Anything wrong?"
"Everything is wrong. I saw Gavon this morning, and he--I know now
what I guessed before. There is only one way to save me, and you won't
take it. You won't be troubled by me long; I cannot endure this. I
have come to say that this is good-bye."
She turned away as she spoke; she did not wait for any remarks from
Mollie. Mollie went to the door of the hospital and called the girl's
name; but Kitty had put wings to her feet, and was running back to the
hotel. Shells fell around her as she ran, but nothing wounded or
touched her.
Katherine Hunt was standing in the door of the hospital. She had been
up all night, and was tired.
"Aren't you ever going to rest, Sister Mollie?" she said.
"Some day," replied Mollie, with a sigh.
"You are fretting about that silly little sister of yours. She's not
worth it."
"I am rather anxious about her," said Mollie. "She is very desperate
and very unhappy. I have no time to go over to her, or I would."
"I am off duty for two or three hours. I will go to the hotel and look
after her."
"She bade me good-bye. She means something desperate," said Mollie.
"No, you need not be alarmed; that is not Kitty's way. Take care of
yourself, and don't yield," said Katherine Hunt.
Katherine put on her hat, and prepared to go back to the hotel. Mollie
returned to her duties. About noon there was a brief lull, and she
went out to take a little air. She had scarcely been two minutes in
her post of observation, where she could watch both her cases and the
street beyond, when Major Strause strode up to her side. He looked
around, saw that they were alone, and said briefly,--
"The day and the hour have come. As long as I was in hospital I kept
my word. Will you marry me, Mollie Hepworth?"
"No, Major Strause," she replied.
"I will ask you once more. Will you, when the siege is over, be my
faithful and true wife?"
"I will never be your wife."
"Is that your final answer?"
"Yes."
"I have asked you to be my wife for more than one reason," continued
Major Strause. He stood in such a position that she could not get away
from him. "I have hitherto not declared my reasons. Now I am prepared
to go fully into the matter. You can say 'yes' or 'no' afterwards. I
have just seen your sister. She is terribly unhappy. Her brain is not
too strong, and it has been very much shaken by the terrors and misery
she has undergone since she came to Ladysmith. She loves Captain
Keith."
"She is engaged to Captain Keith," interrupted Mollie.
"Yes, yes; but that is a trifle. The fact is that she loves him
desperately, as I love you. He does not love her; he loves you."
"You have no right--" began Mollie.
He interrupted her by a hasty ejaculation.
"No right," he said, "when the whole thing is as plain--as plain as
that there is a sun in the sky! The man loves you as men will love
women like you, Sister Mollie; and you love him back. Your sister is
mad with trouble. There is only one way to save her--marry me!"
"And believing such a thing to be true, would you really take me to be
your wife?" said Mollie.
"I would."
"Then you would be a very miserable man."
"That would be my affair. I would take you as my wife; and, before
God, I would be the best man on earth. Yes, Mollie Hepworth, the best,
for you have power over me. I was born, I think, with a devil inside
me; but in your presence he lies quiet, he does not trouble. You have
the effect of sending him to sleep."
"That is little," said Mollie, "if he is there. I cannot marry a man
with a devil in his heart."
"Can you not? will nothing induce you?"
"Nothing."
"Not even to save your sister from suicide?"
"She will not commit suicide," said Mollie, a startled expression
crossing her face. "I don't believe that for a single moment. No, you
cannot frighten me with that. Kitty will marry Gavon. He will be good
to her, and she will be happy, if ever we leave Ladysmith alive."
"The provisions are getting weak, and enteric is gaining strength,"
said the major gloomily. "Ten fresh cases have been brought into
hospital this morning. Do you happen to know that?"
"I had not heard it."
"They are making beds on the floor now; there are not enough bedsteads.
There is a sad lack of nurses, too. These are dark days for Ladysmith.
But outside the Boers are rejoicing. Buller does not get any nearer.
We are left to our fate. That being the case, may we not be happy
while we can? Your sister would be relieved if she knew that you were
engaged to me. Keith would scarcely give you another thought when he
learned that you were to be the wife of his--" Major Strause bent
lower, and hissed the last words into the girl's ear--"his enemy!"
"And why are you Gavon Keith's enemy?" said Mollie.
"Will you say that you will marry me?"
"I will not."
"If you say it, I need never tell you; if you don't say it, I mean to
tell you, and now."
"Now, now," said Mollie--"now?"
"Sister Mollie, you are wanted," said Sister Eugenia, coming out of the
hospital.
"Oh, for shame!" said Mollie, turning to Major Strause; "for shame, to
keep me now to talk of these things.--Yes, Sister Eugenia."
"I will wait till you come out, or it will be the worse for Gavon
Keith," said Major Strause, in a very firm voice.
Mollie looked at him in absolute terror. She went back to the
hospital, where her services were urgently needed. But all the time,
as she attended to this patient and the other, her thoughts were with
Major Strause, and she remembered his words--"It will be the worse for
Gavon Keith."
Presently she had a moment's leisure, and seeing the major standing
outside, she went back to him.
"I am prepared to listen to you to the very end," she said. "All I ask
of you is that you will be brief."
"I must tell you something that will pain you very much," he replied.
"You think well of Keith? You have no reason to."
"Speak!" said Mollie.
"About a year ago a very shady circumstance occurred in connection with
Gavon Keith. A young man, a cousin of mine, was in our regiment. We
were stationed near Netley at the time, and this young fellow--he was
extremely rich--became a great friend of Keith's. He came of rather a
delicate family. His father and mother were both dead. He had
unlimited means--"
"Is the story going to be very long?" interrupted Mollie.
"It shall be as short as I can make it. I need not trouble you with
many particulars. He was devoted to Keith, and Keith, for reasons of
his own, did all he could to keep young Aylmer from my society."
"Why?" asked Mollie.
"He had what he supposed were good reasons, but it was naturally
annoying to me, as I was Aylmer's cousin. However, the long and short
of it was that Aylmer was devoted to Keith, and the two were
inseparable. Aylmer became very ill; I offered to nurse him. Keith
arrived suddenly on the scene, and took my patient from me. I could
not help myself, for Aylmer loved Keith and disliked me. Aylmer's
illness was supposed to be progressing favourably; nevertheless there
were reasons to fear the possibility of a fatal result. Keith came to
nurse him one afternoon. It was arranged that he was to spend the
night with him. In the night Aylmer died suddenly. The doctor gave
the usual death certificate, and poor Aylmer was buried. His will was
read, and it was found that he had left Captain Keith ten thousand
pounds. This was a large legacy; still no one said anything. Keith
was a favourite in the regiment, and people were glad that the young
man had remembered him. They are glad to this day. They shall be
glad, if you so will it, to the end of time; for Keith and I alone know
the truth."
"What do you mean?" said Mollie. Her face was very white--white as
death. "What do you mean?"
"I happened to go into the sick-room the morning after Aylmer's death.
Now listen--listen hard. Aylmer was ordered two medicines: one was
what they call an alterative, or fever mixture--you know the kind?"
Mollie nodded.
"Aylmer was to take two tablespoonfuls of the alterative medicine every
two hours. He suffered intense pain from some obscure internal
inflammation, and a sedative, which contained a large quantity of
opium, was also to be given at stated intervals--a teaspoonful at a
time. Those were the two medicines. When I went into Aylmer's room on
the following morning, I found that Keith had given Aylmer the wrong
medicine--he _said_ by mistake. Anyhow, Aylmer had taken two
tablespoonfuls of the sedative and one teaspoonful of the fever
mixture. The consequence was that he died. You must admit that a very
ugly finger of suspicion points to Captain Keith, more particularly as
I found out, after careful inquiries, that he wanted that ten thousand
pounds badly just then."
"And you think--"
"I don't think; I know. I have more to say. Keith was very ill after
Aylmer's death--shock the doctors called it; but I, having made my
discovery, knew better. I carried the bottles away with me. I have
them still. When Keith was a little better I went to see him, and told
him what had happened. I invited him to take the matter up and make
inquiries; but he preferred to hush the whole thing into oblivion."
"And your part, Major Strause?"
"My part is of no consequence. Had I been less soft-hearted, I should
have gone straight to the coroner and told him what I had discovered.
But I could not bear to ruin the career of a brave soldier, and I let
things lie."
"And you--you received nothing?" asked Mollie, her cheeks on fire, her
eyes glowing.
"I wanted a little money badly, and Keith gave me some out of his
legacy. I could not resist the temptation of asking him for it. I
don't want for a moment to pretend that I acted the hero. I did not;
but compared with a man who could take the life of another, I was--"
"Very white indeed," said Mollie, with a curious, half-strangled laugh.
"Yes," he answered, "very white. We need not discuss that point. All
this time I have lain low, and Keith has got on and forgotten the
ghastly thing--he has engaged himself to a pretty young girl, and I
have never said a word, and I never will say a word; on the contrary, I
will do something else. On your wedding day I will make you, Mollie
Hepworth, a present. I will give you those bottles out of which the
medicines were taken. You shall destroy them, and so save Gavon Keith
for ever. Will you marry me under these conditions?"
"If I say 'no'?"
"If you say 'no,' I never repeat my offer; and to-night the whisper
begins in Ladysmith that one of the heroes of the hour, a man who is to
be recommended for his V.C., has committed a secret murder."
"You will do that?"
"I will do that for you, Mollie Hepworth; for you, because I want to
win you at any cost. If you say 'yes,' Gavon Keith need fear nothing
from me. He will marry your sister--he will cease to care for you; he
will marry Kitty, and Kitty will be happy, and you will have saved him.
You can never marry him, because I mean to _ruin_ him if you do not
marry me. Now you know what I require. I will come back for my answer
to-night. Good-bye for the present."
He left her. She put up her hand to her forehead. She felt it was
very wet. She did not quite know why the heavy moisture stood on it.
She was almost incapable of thought.