_Meet for Repentance_
Nona did not know what to do, whether to go first to Eugenia Castaigne
or to Barbara herself. Then she decided that it would possibly be
fairer to go directly with her warning to Barbara. In Barbara’s place
she would have preferred not having Eugenia prejudiced by an outside
person.
However, Nona felt that she was having rather more responsibilities
toward her friends than she cared to undertake.
Certainly the duty ahead of her was an utterly disagreeable and
thankless one! To warn Barbara that her name was being associated with
that of Lieutenant Kelley, that there were even other disagreeable
rumors, having some mysterious connection with spying, in which she
might possibly be supposed to be playing a part, well, Barbara could
scarcely be expected to receive such information calmly, or to feel
anything but anger and resentment toward the person who brought her
such ill news.
Moreover, Nona knew that Barbara had realized she had not altogether
approved of her recent behavior and would be the more annoyed for this
reason that she should be the messenger.
Several times Nona almost concluded that she would let the whole matter
drop. Sooner or later, in some fashion, the gossip or, perhaps, a
serious accusation, would eventually reach Barbara. Possibly someone
would come to Madame Castaigne or to Mildred Thornton with the story.
In either case she would escape all responsibility.
But, seriously, Nona believed that Barbara should be warned. Her
entire behavior, although it had been indiscreet, was perfectly
innocent. Therefore, it was unfortunate that she should be the
subject of disagreeable discussion, when Barbara herself could, in
all probability, end it, whatever she might be forced to suffer as
a consequence. Nona finally concluded that she owed it not only to
her old friendship with Barbara, but to Barbara’s husband, Richard
Thornton, to tell Barbara what Philip Dawson had confided to her. For
it had been Philip Dawson’s judgment that Barbara should know, and Nona
had confidence in his opinion, if not in her own.
That same evening, after dinner, Nona went directly to Barbara’s room.
Whether or not she would find her there she had no idea, as Barbara had
not been in the dining-room. But then she might possibly be on duty
with a patient.
Fortunately, Barbara now occupied a room to herself. After Mildred
Thornton had undertaken the care of Captain Castaigne, she had changed
into a small room adjoining his, in order that she might be near should
he require her attention during the night.
A little later Mollie Drew was to move across the hall to share
Barbara’s room. The week before, Agatha Burton had unexpectedly
departed for Paris, saying that she had been called home to New
York by the illness of her mother and probably could not return to
continue her Red Cross work for several months. However, as Eugenia was
expecting two new nurses who had just sailed from a port in the United
States, the loss of Agatha’s aid was not important.
When Nona knocked at her friend’s door, there was a brief silence, and
then a voice inquired:
“Who is it wishes to speak to me? I would prefer to see no one; I am
not very well.”
But when Nona had given her name in response, Barbara immediately
opened her door.
“Come in, do, Nona, I am so glad to see you. I have been thinking that
I would send word for you to come to me, only I was afraid that I might
interfere with your work.”
Barbara spoke in the quick fashion characteristic of her. Tonight,
however, there was something unusual in her manner, a kind of
suppressed nervousness. Now, before Nona could reply to her, she began
walking up and down the tiny room.
It was not dark, yet the early dusk had fallen. So Nona could see
that Barbara really did look ill. She was extremely pale and her big
dark-blue eyes revealed unaccustomed shadows beneath them.
So, instantly Nona made up her mind that her own disagreeable
information must wait until a serener hour.
“Of course you should have sent for me, Barbara. But suppose, if
you are not well, you lie down and then tell me what is the matter
afterwards.”
Impatiently Barbara shook her head.
“Oh, I am not ill, at least not in the way you think. I only told that
story in order to keep anyone from coming in whom I did not wish to
see. Then I was afraid that it might be either Mildred or Gene, and I
did not even wish to see them. I did not _really_ wish to see anyone
except you, Nona.”
Barbara was talking in a somewhat incoherent fashion, but Nona did not
attempt to interrupt her nor to ask for an explanation.
She had not taken off her nurse’s costume, the white cap and dress
with the Red Cross band.
But then, in her Red Cross uniform Barbara Thornton frequently made
people think of a stage nurse, she looked so little and young and so
extremely piquant.
Even at the present moment Nona thought that no one had the right to
take Barbara too seriously. She was really too young to have assumed
the responsibilities of marriage.
“I have been behaving very badly, Nona,” Barbara confessed suddenly,
but not ceasing her walking up and down, “and I am being punished for
it with the comfortable knowledge that I deserve my punishment. But the
worst is my punishment has only begun. I don’t know what will become of
me when Dick finally hears.”
Nona sat down on one of the two little stiff-backed chairs in the room,
but made no suggestion that Barbara should follow her example.
She knew that Barbara would be able to talk more easily if she
continued moving.
“You know, Nona, that I have been allowing Lieutenant Kelley to think
I was unmarried. No, you do not know this. You only heard me speak of
his making this mistake at first, and you must have supposed I had
told him the truth before now. But I did not tell him, and, well, I
might as well confess the whole story, as I have no right to spare
myself anything. Ever since our meeting I have been flirting with him
a little. Oh, I did not consider that it would make any difference to
him, I presumed he would soon be going away to fight and I meant to
confess then. I simply thought as he was a Kentuckian, and accustomed
to making himself charming to girls, he was amusing himself with me
just as I was having a good time with him. I even supposed he might be
engaged to someone at home. Certainly I never dreamed of his taking his
feeling for me seriously. Then, this afternoon, when Lieutenant Kelley
had an hour off duty and I met him in the garden at Madame Bonnèt’s,
why--why, Nona, he told me he loved me, and actually asked me to marry
him. Some day, perhaps, I may get over the shame and pain of it, but
tonight I feel that I never can.”
And, dropping down on the side of her bed, Barbara covered her face
with her hands.
“I had to tell him the truth then, Nona, and there is something else
I shall never forget, and that is the way Lieutenant Kelley looked at
me and the apology he made, oh, not to me, but to my husband: ‘It has
been my mistake, of course, all along, Mrs. Thornton, you cannot have
intended me to misunderstand you. I have simply been inconceivably
stupid, and I hardly know what amends I do not owe to your husband.’
Then, Nona, he looked such a boy and as if he had been so horribly
hurt in his faith in women and in his own sense of honor. I don’t know
what I said to him afterwards, I scarcely know what I am saying to you
now. Of course I told him that he did not really care for me, but,
somehow, I am afraid he does, Nona, and oh, isn’t it dreadful that one
cannot suffer alone for one’s sins in this world? I deserve anything,
but Hugh isn’t responsible and neither is Dick, and yet they must
both be unhappy for my fault. I think, perhaps, when I tell Dick of my
deception he may not care to have me for his wife any longer.”
Barbara appeared so utterly dejected that if the situation had been
less serious Nona would have smiled. Yet, somehow, she could not find
anything to make her feel like smiling at this moment. She thought of
saying to Barbara that, perhaps, she need not make a confession to her
husband. Then Nona decided that she had no right to offer any possible
advice. Since she was unmarried herself, she did not understand how
complete a confidence should exist between a man and wife. It might
also be a safeguard to Barbara’s future if she felt impelled to confide
her first breach of faith to her husband. Nona knew Dick Thornton well
enough not to envy Barbara her confession.
“Dick is coming tomorrow. I had a letter from him today saying he
had been given a short leave and would take the first train to me. I
suppose I ought to be happy over his coming, but I am not. Later it
might have been easier to have told him what I must tell him. Perhaps,
after a while, I won’t even feel quite so wicked as I do now. It is a
perfectly horrid sensation, Nona! Of course you are such a saint you
can’t even imagine how I feel!”
Then Nona did manage to laugh, and getting up from her chair she went
over and sat down on the bed beside Barbara, putting her arm about her.
“I know you do not wish me to say, Bab, that I think you have been
quite square. But please don’t think I desire to criticise you; I am
just dreadfully sorry and wish there were something I could say or do
that might help. I know you were simply lonely and that life at the
hospital has seemed rather hard and dull after your happy time in your
own home with Dick. If we had only been very busy at the hospital it
would have made a great difference. Perhaps Mildred or Eugenia----”
“Mildred and Eugenia!” Nona felt her hand being tightly clutched.
“Oh, for goodness sake promise me never to breathe a word of what I
have told you either to Mildred or Gene. I am sure Gene would never
allow me to remain at the hospital afterwards. And, somehow, to have
one’s right to be a Red Cross nurse taken away would make one feel as
a soldier must who is stripped of his uniform and sword. Then you see
Mildred might possibly tell my mother-in-law what I have done and she
has never been any too enthusiastic over me as a wife for Dick.”
The faintest suggestion of a smile appearing on Barbara’s face at this
moment, Nona felt the gloom of the situation a bit lightened.
“Suppose you allow me to help you to bed then, Bab, and let us not
talk about disagreeable things any more tonight. As Dick is to arrive
tomorrow, at least there is no point in your looking as if you had
been ill. Just remember you can count on me if I can be useful in any
possible fashion.”
“You are a dear, Nona,” Barbara answered, as she began slowly to follow
her friend’s advice, “especially as I have been pretty neglectful and
have seemed to be indifferent to you lately. But you know I never have
been indifferent really. It was only that I was doing something of
which I realized you would not approve and I did not wish you to know.”
Nona made no answer, but after waiting until Barbara was comfortably in
bed she kissed her and went quietly away.
As a matter of fact, she had told Barbara nothing of what she had
intended telling her. But she could not make up her mind to burden her
further with the information that Lieutenant Kelley might have to meet
another disillusion, more serious, perhaps, than the loss of his faith
in her. For there can be nothing in the life of a soldier that comes so
close to him as having his loyalty doubted.
Neither did Nona mention that Barbara might also have to clear herself
of an impossible suspicion. But she was not sorry that Richard Thornton
was to be with his wife for the next few days. If any difficulty should
arise, Dick’s reputation was a sufficient guarantee for them both.