_The Two Sides of a Shield_
But curiously enough it was not Philip Dawson whom Nona was to see soon
again and see very frequently, but Lieutenant Martin.
However, she saw him not in a social fashion, but as a very ill patient
at the American hospital.
His disaster, which was partly an accident and partly through
intention, was never openly discussed. Indeed, the facts were kept from
the knowledge of as many persons as possible, except those who were
obliged to know and others to whom the circumstances had to be reported.
Naturally, no one in authority wished anything except fair news to
be sent abroad from the American headquarters of the army in France,
and there was enough of gallantry and skill and steadfastness to be
reported. Like a great family, it was wiser, perhaps, to conceal one’s
family’s short-comings.
Yet never is there a large number of human beings together without some
difficulties! One evening Lieutenant Martin and Lieutenant Kelley were
having a short walk after dark. Taps had been sounded some time before
and the men were supposed to be in their quarters, except for those who
had special permits such as the two young officers.
They were walking along a fairly open road only a few miles from their
own village, but bordered with a number of old trees on either side.
By chance, as he explained afterwards, Hugh Kelley had dropped behind
for a few moments when he was surprised by the report of a pistol.
Running on ahead he discovered that his former companion had apparently
stumbled and fallen and that his own weapon had shot him in the left
arm.
Yet Martin was unconscious and in lifting him the younger man found he
had been struck in the back of the head. Not far away was a stone which
must have been thrown at him from someone in hiding, and as the blow
caused him to fall forward, his own pistol had exploded.
Lieutenant Kelley said later that he had looked for a moment, but could
find no other human being in their neighborhood. Then he concluded that
the thing of first importance was to secure aid for his friend and
afterwards to play detective.
He had therefore brought Lieutenant Martin directly to the American
hospital, which happened to be closer to them than the village. There,
Madame Castaigne had herself received him and he had left his injured
friend and officer in her charge.
The doctor at first reported that neither of the young officer’s wounds
was particularly serious and that it was only a question of a few weeks
before Martin’s recovery. But the young man was found to be overworked
and overstrained, with his vitality lower than anyone could have
imagined from his appearance. So the few weeks had already passed.
Late one afternoon Nona came quietly into Lieutenant Martin’s room,
a private room, as the hospital was still uncrowded and he had been
found to be an exceptionally nervous patient.
Nona had been off duty all day and as she had passed the other nurse,
Agatha Burton, in the hall the moment before, she discovered him alone.
The young man was propped up on pillows, with the bandage still about
his head and his arm in a sling. Yet somehow Nona did not feel that
either of these misfortunes warranted the expression she observed on
his face.
He had rather a thin face always and now the skin was drawn tightly
over his fine, slightly arched nose and the prominent bones of his
cheeks. His gray eyes, which looked darker since his illness, were
sunken and his hair pushed carelessly back showed the best of him,
a high, pure forehead, unlined and white as a girl’s. Yet he seemed
wretched and miserable and Nona heard his sigh deepen into a groan as
she came nearer his bed.
“I don’t see how you could have left me alone so long suffering like
this. It’s been, oh, it’s been Hades!”
“You are not worse, are you?” Nona asked, “and you can’t have been
alone long, because I saw Miss Burton just leaving your room and Madame
Castaigne told me she had seen you a short time ago.” Lieutenant Martin
made no answer, while Nona adjusted his pillow and then moved to open
a blind so that he could see the yellow lights of the sun casting the
last of the day’s glory over the nearby valley of France.
“I thought nurses were not supposed to argue with patients,” Lieutenant
Martin murmured irritably and then in a little different tone, “But
thank you for raising that shade without asking me if I wished it.
The sunrise and the sunset are about all the beauty I ever see these
days, except--the truth is that Miss Burton has asked me so many
questions in the last few hours that if she had not gone just when she
did there would have been another outburst. And did Madame Castaigne
tell you that she scolded me as if I had been about six years old and
without the least regard for my being a First Lieutenant, with a fair
chance of a captaincy, until this blasted accident? She assured me
that if I was not more considerate of the nurses--well, I suppose I
was not to be allowed to have one, I was not quite certain what my
punishment was to be. But that same Miss Burton seems to have shed
tears over something she thinks I said to her. But I am sure I have
never been inconsiderate, although I don’t like Miss Burton. She gives
me the creeps; for one thing, she won’t fight back. I have never been
disagreeable to you, Miss Davis.”
Nona laughed. “How are the mighty fallen!” she thought a trifle
wickedly to herself. But aloud she answered. “Oh, not especially;
besides, I don’t pay any attention to what men say when they are ill.
They are scarcely responsible. Besides, your illness must have been
particularly hard on you, shut up all these weeks with women and girls
when all your interest and thought are with our soldiers. Even though
we did not know each other very well when we were younger, I remember
you had the reputation of being immensely scornful of girls.”
Lieutenant Martin colored unexpectedly.
“I call that hitting below the belt and when a man is down, Miss Davis,
and I thought you were a good sport.”
Nona held up both her slender hands bare of any rings.
“Hands up, I apologize.” Then she came and leaned over the bed.
“But you are better, or at least you do not seem to be suffering from
anything except personal grievances. Is there anything I can do for you
before dinner?”
“Sit down and talk to me, if you will.”
Without discussion Nona drew up a low chair and sat down.
In spite of the fact that he had been generally acknowledged as an
extremely disagreeable and ungrateful patient, Nona had really come
to like Lieutenant Jack Martin rather unusually well. Of course this
was partly due to the fact that however slight their acquaintance in
the past, at least this and the knowledge of common friends was a bond
between them. Besides, Lieutenant Martin’s bad tempers were merely
those of an undisciplined boy, and this was amusing in view of the
fact that he was so stern a disciplinarian both with himself and with
the men in camp. But Nona had not taken three years of experience in
nursing to find out how different a man may be in illness and in health.
The young man’s expression had changed again in the last moment,
however.
“I suppose I am a pretty bad sort,” he said quietly, “or at least I
give people that impression, which amounts to the same thing. This
accident, for instance, would never have happened if I had not a genius
for making enemies. But I can’t guess what fellow hates me sufficiently
to wish to get rid of me at least temporarily; and I don’t want to find
out. I wish I could persuade our Colonel and Kelley and some of the
other men just to let the whole business drop. I would rather have gone
out altogether than have a scandal in our unit.”
Nona shook her head almost subconsciously. Lieutenant Martin was too
fine a soldier, there was too much work for him to do for this to
happen.
When he turned his head away and said nothing more for a few moments,
Nona leaned over and laid her hand lightly on the young officer’s. They
were strong rather beautiful with breadth and yet with long, sensitive
fingers.
“I would not think of this any more if I were you, not until you are
entirely well. I agree with you, perhaps it may be just as wise not to
make too much effort to find out the coward, unless he may be dangerous
to you or to someone else at another time. Sooner or later he must
reveal himself, and----”
“And I don’t count a great deal, do I? Well, I can’t say I enjoy your
agreeing with me in this,” Jack Martin answered, frowning and drawing
away slightly from Nona’s kindly gesture.
This time Nona did flush and, for the first time, betrayed temper.
“You know I did not mean that and you do make an effort to be
disagreeable,” she returned.
This time her patient laughed.
“Perhaps I did this time, but somehow you are just a little too cool,
Miss Davis; I would say too good, if I did not fear it would make you
angry with me. And I don’t want you to be angry. I want you to do me a
favor instead. I am better now and I won’t be so much trouble, so won’t
you ask Madame Castaigne if you can take charge of me altogether both
the day and night work? You could rest in between times and I promise
you that from that moment I shall change from a lion into a lamb.”
“I am afraid Madame Castaigne----”
“Oh, please don’t give that excuse. I grow tired of hearing Madame
Castaigne’s name. Of course I understand you can’t accept such a task.
Please forget I asked you. The truth is, Nona--Miss Davis--I wish you
could make up your mind to bear with me for longer than just this time
of nursing. I know I only look like half a man with the other half in
bandages, and I may be a boor and a bully, but you see I have never had
a single woman’s affection in my life----”
Nona was by this time standing up looking very grave and angry.
The yellow light through the window flooded her white nurse’s dress to
the color of her hair.
She was like a slender yellow lily, as cold and as remote, which Jack
Martin remembered growing in certain aristocratic gardens he had seen
in the South.
“I am your nurse, Lieutenant Martin, if you wish me to continue to care
for you, please never say anything of that character again, else you
make my work impossible.”
Then to Nona’s intense relief she heard someone at the door with her
patient’s dinner.
This was not her first experience of this kind. Men who are
convalescing are apt to make love to their nurses from a combination of
sentimentality and gratitude. But for some reason Nona felt especially
annoyed and surprised.
Yet she did not observe Lieutenant Jack Martin’s jaw set, nor his gray
eyes flash as he said softly to himself,
“But I shall not always be your patient, my lady.”