STUNNED.
[Illustration: Chapter XXV drop-cap C]
Captain Keith slowly returned to Ladysmith. He was stunned: there were
a coldness and faintness round his heart; but he walked straight and
stiff. Was he to get back his freedom at such a price as this? No; he
would rather lie under the blackest cloud all his life. Was Mollie
going to force the major's hand, and was his reward to be--herself?
The thought was monstrous.
"She does not love him," thought Keith, "on the contrary, she hates
him. And yet Major Strause would not have spoken as he did nor looked
as he did if there had been no truth in the idea. Men like Major
Strause do not suddenly turn into angels, nor humiliate themselves, for
mere sentiment. Conscience is not the major's strong point. If he
speaks the truth, he has a motive for his actions. Mollie gives
herself to him that I may be cleared. It is like her, but I will not
permit it."
Keith went straight to the hotel. He inquired for Katherine Hunt. She
was in, and he went upstairs to the girls' sitting-room. He had
resolved, in his extremity, to take Katherine into his confidence.
When he entered the small room, he was relieved to find that Kitty was
not there. There were folding doors between the sitting-room and the
bedroom, and the folding doors were shut. After a moment they were
opened, and Katherine Hunt came in. Kitty was lying on the bed in the
other room. Katherine, without intending it, left the doors between
the two rooms slightly ajar. Kitty noticed this. As soon as Katherine
had disappeared, she raised herself on her elbow, slipped off the bed,
and approached the door. She stood on the other side.
"I don't know why I am mean enough to listen," she thought, "but I will
listen, come what may. Gavon has been very kind to me lately, but I am
not sure of him."
Meanwhile Katherine had given her hand to Keith. She had looked full
in his face, and said quietly,--
"Something is worrying you."
"Yes," answered Keith. "I am half maddened. I must confide in some
one. No one can help me, unless you, Miss Hunt, will take pity on me."
"That I will," she replied, "and right gladly. Sit down, please."
He took no notice of this request.
"There is a rumour in the camp," he said, "that relief is not far off.
There is also a rumour that the short rations are coming to an end.
Both rumours may be wrong. You must know, however, Miss Hunt, that
every one in Ladysmith holds his life in his hands. Our quietus may
come to us at any moment."
"That, after a fashion, is true in all walks of life," she answered.
"Yes, but not to the same degree," he replied. "But at least, Miss
Hunt," he continued, "while we live I hope we, who are soldiers of the
Queen"--he bowed to Katherine as though to include her in the
compliment--"will live with honour. Something happened to-day which
affects my honour. I must tell you."
"Yes?" she said; "what is it?"
The door between the bedroom and the sitting-room creaked a tiny bit
wider; but the two in the sitting-room were too absorbed with each
other to notice it.
Katherine looked up into Keith's face. Her own was brave and strong.
It had aged since she came to Ladysmith, but the lines of endurance
seemed to bring out her true character. She had always in her the
makings of a noble woman; now she _was_ a noble woman. In this fact
lay the difference between her old life and her present. She had been
brought into a moral forcing-house, and the development of her
courageous nature was enormous.
"Yes," she said again, "tell me."
Keith looked full at her.
"Things have happened," he said, "which in great measure have
undermined my manhood. Things have been said for which I personally am
not responsible. Rumours have been circulated with regard to me which
make me in the eyes of my fellow-men not only a scoundrel wanting in
honour, but a man on whom the hand of the law is heavily placed.
According to my fellow-men in Ladysmith, I can be arrested at this
instant for the blackest of all crimes. And yet, Miss Hunt, there is
no man on God's earth more innocent of the crime to which I allude than
I am."
"Then why do you fear?" said Katherine.
"Because circumstantial evidence is black against me, and because I am
in the hands of one without honour and without conscience."
The little listener on the other side of the door gave a groan. It was
a wonder Keith did not hear it.
"Miss Hunt, in connection with what I have just told you, I have heard
a most terrible piece of news. This news is so terrible to me that my
own unhappiness sinks quite out of sight by comparison. If it is true,
before God steps must be taken. She shall not marry him in the dark."
"She! Whom do you talk of?" said Katherine.
Kitty clasped her hands together. The colour mounted in big spots on
her cheeks; her dark eyes shone. Yes, Kitty knew to whom Gavon
alluded. The next moment he had spoken the words she expected to hear.
"I have just seen Strause," said Keith. "He was on his way--that is,
if he could get there--to Intombi. He tells me that he is all but
engaged to Kitty's sister. He says she will marry him. And oh, he was
going to kiss her! You can understand, I hope, Miss Hunt, that--"
Keith leaned suddenly against the wall; he raised his hand and wiped
some drops from his forehead.
"You can understand," he continued, "that I--well, that I cannot permit
this."
"I hope so," replied Katherine.
She felt glad that Kitty was not in the room.
"Even if I had never known Sister Mollie, I should be dismayed," he
continued; "but as it is-- I have no right to say anything more. She
is Kitty's sister; let that be my excuse. Miss Hunt, it is hateful to
speak against a brother officer; but the man is a scoundrel--he is
worse!"
[Illustration: "_It is hateful to speak against a brother officer; but
the man is a scoundrel--he is worse!_"]
"What can you mean?" said Katherine.
"Things are so grave that I must speak. He has cast a shadow over me
which in reality reflects on himself. Miss Hunt, the man is a--"
"What? I can't hear you," said Katherine.
The next words were spoken in the lowest whisper. Katherine gave a
cry. Her cry was echoed in the next room. A sharp note of terror fell
on both speakers' ears.
"What is that?" said Katherine. "Kitty! Kitty!"
She rushed across the room, she burst open the door, and there was
Kitty, lying half fainting on the floor.
Gavon Keith and Katherine laid her on the bed.
"I must speak to you, Gavon," said the girl. "No, I am not quite
fainting. I must speak to you.--Stay if you like, Katheriue, stay if
you like, but I must speak to him."
"I will go into the other room," said Katherine.
She went away at once, leaving the door between the two rooms slightly
ajar.
"Sit there, Gavon," said Kitty. "Oh, you may be just as shocked as
ever you like, but I _listened_. Is it true what you said in so low a
whisper?"
"All I said is true, Kitty."
"And Major Strause is--"
Kitty could not form the next word. Keith was silent for a moment.
"I will tell you about Major Strause," he said then.
He bent towards her, and in a few words gave his own history--the
history of himself and Aylmer. He unfolded to her the black plot, and
the cruel shadow which was made to rest upon his own head.
"I met him just now, Kitty," he said in conclusion, "and he told me
that he was about to put the thing right. I don't know how he could do
it without implicating himself; but that part scarcely matters. He
would not say anything, I know, to put my life in peril, but he does
not mind killing my reputation. He said something else, though, which
cannot be permitted. Kitty, he said he was going to marry Mollie. If
Mollie marries him, she does it to save me; and, Kitty, she must not do
it. I would rather go under for ever."
Keith had scarcely uttered these words before there was a commotion on
the stairs and a knock at the room door. He went to open it.
An orderly stood without. Captain Keith was wanted at headquarters
immediately.
The two girls were left alone. Kitty raised herself from her pillow
with a perfectly blanched face. After a long time Katherine went up
and spoke to her.
"You must be brave," said Katherine. "There is great
excitement--strange news every where. I believe there is a great
battle imminent; and yet here are you and I and two men in this small
camp absorbed in our own personal affairs. It seems monstrous."
"Personal affairs must come first," said Kitty, in a gasping voice. "I
won't stand this--I can't; I see myself as I am. Katherine, Mollie
would not do this but for me."
"But for you, Kitty!"
"I urged her to do it--I implored her to do it. I told her it was the
only thing. O Katherine, she must not marry Major Strause. What am I
to do--what am I to do?"
"I will come to you presently," said Katheriue. "I must go downstairs
now. There are things to be done, and I must find out what is the
matter. Listen to the shells bursting. You have had no dinner; I must
see what I can find for you."
Katherine went out of the room. She did not like Kitty's face. There
was a wildness in her eyes which alarmed her.
The moment she was alone, Kitty slipped across the bedroom into the
sitting-room. She went straight to the window. To her surprise, she
saw Katherine walking down the street. She wondered where she was
going. Shells were dropping all over the place, bursting as they fell.
Katherine passed within a few feet of one which burst with a tremendous
roar. Kitty looked calmly on. The time had come when the bursting of
shells mattered nothing to her. She went back to her bedroom.
"I will do it," she said to herself. "I don't care. I am desperate.
I see everything now. She shall not sacrifice herself."
Kitty hastily put on her shoes; she laced them on her little feet. She
pinned on her hat, went to a drawer where she kept her purse--now,
alas! very light--slipped it into her pocket, and, just as she was, ran
downstairs. Some men were talking in little knots. A woman now and
then appeared at the end of a passage, looked anxiously at the men, and
disappeared again. No one looked at Kitty as she went downstairs. The
time had come when the intense general interest was so profound that
small minor interests were of no account whatever. It mattered nothing
to any one in the Royal Hotel that the slender girl who had for a long
time been an invalid was going out with shells falling around her.
Kitty left the hotel. She walked down the street. Her steps were very
feeble. She met a woman, one of the townspeople. She went up to her.
"Can you and will you help me?" she said. Her voice was very shaky.
"Who are you?" said the woman.
"I want to go to Intombi. Can I go?"
"The train with the sick and wounded has just left," said the woman.
"No one will be taken to Intombi until this time to-morrow. You are in
danger here," she continued: "a shell might burst any moment."
"I must not die," said Kitty; "I have something to do before I die."
"Is it anything of great importance?"
"It is of tremendous importance--tremendous--and must be done. Will
you help me? I will pay you."
"Poor child!" said the woman. "I don't want the money. But you ought
to get into shelter. Where are you staying?"
"At the hotel--the Royal Hotel."
"It is not safe there. They are always firing at the hotel. They
think to kill Sir George White or some other important officer. But I
could take you to a place of safety. I rushed home to get a toy and
some food for a child. We spend the day in the caves by the
river-side. Come with me; we are quite safe there."
"Oh, will you--will you really take me in?"
"I will truly take you in. Come; please God, we will get back to the
caves in safety."
[Illustration: Chapter XXV tailpiece]