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CHAPTER XXVI.
THE CAVES
Kitty was just starting with the woman when an idea struck her.
"Wait one moment, only one moment," she said.
Before the woman could reply she rushed away from her. She ran wildly back to the hotel; she dashed up to her own room. There she opened a drawer, took certain things from it, folded them in a bit of paper, and came back again to the woman. She was panting and out of breath, but there was a new light in her eyes, and she did not look anything like so weak as she had done an hour ago, when she lay feeble and exhausted on her bed.
"You are a plucky one," said the woman.
That any one should call Kitty that caused her to smile very faintly, but it also sent a certain stimulus round her heart.
"I plucky! that is all you know," she said.
Then the woman gave the girl her hand. She herself had been an inhabitant of Ladysmith for years. She was an Englishwoman, and she wanted to see the old country again before she died. She was the mother of stalwart boys, and the wife of a good, sensible, matter-of-fact tradesman. She had no daughters, and this girl, slim and small and pretty, appealed to her.
"I will look after you, you poor little thing," she said. "Whether you were plucky or not in the past, you are plucky now. Come; you will be safe in the caves with me and my family."
A few moments later the woman and the girl had found shelter in one of the caves by the river-side. These caves had been excavated in order to afford bomb-proof shelter during the great siege. The woman had a little part of one of the caves portioned off for herself and her family. It was fairly comfortable; there was even a little furniture here. Kitty was offered the best chair the place afforded. They could hear the firing; but no shells burst anywhere near them. There was very little to eat; but Kitty was not hungry. The one thing which absorbed all her faculties and all her powers was how she was to get to Intombi. She, a poor, defenceless little girl, could not run the gauntlet of the enemy's firing. But she had an idea which might possibly be successful, and which she dared not tell to any one.
Presently the daylight passed, and the night came on. As usual, the firing ceased, and the cave dwellers prepared to return to their homes. The woman who had befriended Kitty packed up her things with right good will.
"You are our guest now, so you will come home with us to-night," she said to Kitty.
But the girl did not move.
"I am going to stay here," she said; "I am not going back. I want to stay here, please."
"Oh, that is nonsense," said the woman. "You cannot stay alone in these awful, lonesome caves. There will be no one with you. You can't do it, my dear. A pretty young thing like you! it's impossible."
"You may go or not, just as you like," said Kitty, "but I am going to stay."
The woman's husband, a man of the name of Burke, now came up and expostulated with the girl.
"We're right glad to give you shelter, miss," he said, "if only you can prove yourself an Englishwoman; but to stay here all night – it can't be done, miss. Come, march!"
He went up roughly to the girl, and raised her to her feet. But Kitty could be obstinate.
"I am not going," she said; "I shall stay here. No one will know I am here; and I promise to be very, very quiet. Please let me stay."
"Come, husband," said the woman. "If she chooses to make a fool of herself, I don't suppose any harm will come to her. No one wants to come near these caves during the night – horrid, damp, gloomy places. We have too much of them in the daytime. – I'll leave you a chunk of bread, miss, and a little water; that's the most I can do for you."
"Thank you," said Kitty.
Presently the Burke family went back to the town. Other families were seen wending their way in the same direction. The gloom swallowed them up. Just now in Ladysmith darkness was welcome as no light could ever be. The people disappeared one after the other, and the caves, which had rung with sound and movement, became absolutely still. Only the water-rats were heard, and the sigh of the wind as it rippled over the water. Distant sounds, however, floated over the breeze – the constant booming of guns, which were fired, even though it was night, in order to make sure that all was well. Distant lights in the enemy's camps were also seen, and now and then a searchlight made a vivid path of whiteness in the direction of the town. Kitty fancied she saw a silent party moving quietly like grey ghosts in the distance. They passed the caves. She wondered what they were doing, but she was not greatly interested in them. Her thought of thoughts was, how was she, a lonely, defenceless little girl, to find her way through the enemy's lines to Intombi? Nevertheless, whatever the danger, she had made up her mind to go.
"I have drawn Mollie into this dreadful thing, and I alone must save her," she thought.
Presently she unfastened the little parcel which she had all this time kept by her side. She took from it a nurse's apron and the cap which the nurses of the Red Cross wear. She pinned the badge of the Red Cross on her arm, crept away from the caves, and began to go slowly, and with many qualms in her heart, in the direction of the town. Each sound made her start. She had the greatest difficulty in keeping herself from screaming; nevertheless a new courage filled her heart.
Presently she saw a soldier standing as if at attention about twenty yards distant. She wondered if he were a sentry on duty. Beyond doubt he saw her, and was interested in her. She also stood still, and the man wheeled round and looked full in her direction. It was so dark that he could only see the shadow of a woman. Presently his voice rang out, "Who goes there?" Kitty knew she could not escape him; was he going to be friend or foe? She felt for her purse. Holding it in her hand, she approached the soldier.
"Who are you?" he said, gazing at her in astonishment. "Have you lost your way? Go straight on, and you will get back to Ladysmith, but you must be quick. What are you doing wandering outside the town?"
"I am a Red Cross nurse," said Kitty, "and I have lost my way. I wanted to return to Intombi to-night, but I lost my way. Has the ambulance train gone yet?"
"It went not long ago, but they are making up a second."
"Please take me to it, I am so afraid to be alone. Please take me to the train. I am due at Intombi; they want me very badly." Here she held the apron and cap out to him. "See," she said. She pointed to the Red Cross badge on her arm.
The soldier whistled, and looked at her significantly.
"I was in hospital," he said, "at Ladysmith, and a rough enough time it wor. If it weren't for Sister Mollie – "
"I know Sister Mollie," said Kitty. She hesitated as to whether or not she should say she was Mollie's sister. "I know her well, very well," she continued. "I have nursed under her. She is expecting me back. I lost my way."
"I don't know how you could," said the man.
"But I did. Oh, don't question me any further. Get me to the ambulance train, please. You are not a sentry, are you?"
"No, I am not a sentry."
"Then you can take me. And see, you shall have all the money I possess."
As she spoke, she opened her little purse and emptied it into the soldier's palm. It contained three or four shillings and a couple of pence. He looked at the money as it lay in his hand. It would buy a dainty for his supper; and even with full rations, dainties in Ladysmith were not to be despised. Nevertheless he was an honest British soldier, and nothing would induce him to take her last shillings from a Red Cross nurse.
"Take back your money," he said; "I don't want it. If you come with me quick, you may catch the train, but you were a great fool to lose it."
In a very few moments they found themselves at the station. A moment or two longer and Kitty had taken her place in the train – no questions asked, her uniform and the badge on her arm being sufficient. She could scarcely believe in her own luck.
"Safe so far; success so far," thought the girl.
In process of time the train, with its sad load of wounded and dying, reached the great hospital at the base. Kitty got out with the others. Her excitement now knew no bounds. She did not wait to assist any of the wounded men. The nurses – there were none too many of them – came out, the orderlies did what they could, and the sick and wounded were brought one by one into the tents. The damp of the place was fearful. The flies were a torture. The red dust lay in patches everywhere. There were few comforts of any sort. How different from the Town Hall hospital, which, poor as it was, was at least the soul of order!
But Kitty noticed none of these things. She wanted Mollie. If she could save Mollie, the wounded and dying mattered nothing at all. Presently she saw her. She was in the forefront, as usual. She held a lamp in her hand. She was giving directions. Kitty ran up and touched her.
"I have come," she said, "to help you."
Mollie turned and glanced at her. She saw a light in the wild brown eyes, a smile round the lips, and she noticed a queer, new, and very foreign expression on the small face. But all she did was to clasp Kitty's hand for one instant.
"Nothing personal now," said Sister Mollie – "presently, presently."
Kitty fell back, stunned and ashamed. After a few minutes, however, Mollie showed that she had not forgotten her sister. She turned and said, —
"All hands are wanted. If you are useful, I am glad you have come. Go and help the other nurses. I will speak to you presently."
With something between a sob and a cry of joy Kitty turned and went. With the little cap and the big white apron, and the red cross on her arm, she felt herself truly a sister of the Red Cross. The thought ennobled and raised her. There was a sense of rest all over her. Her wild expedient had succeeded.
Kitty, to the longest day she lived, never forgot that night – that night when she was completely and absolutely carried out of herself; when weakness and hunger were forgotten, and when, until the dawn broke, she ministered to the sick, the wounded, and the dying. There was no time at the Intombi camp to wait for trained nurses. Any woman's hand was sustaining; any woman could at least give a glance of sympathy and a word of comfort.
While Sister Mollie and the surgeons attended to the more serious cases, Kitty fulfilled her full quota of work. It was not until the morning broke that she had an instant alone with her sister. The dreadful firing had recommenced. It sounded far louder at Intombi than it did at Ladysmith. In the pause between the firing of one shell and another, Kitty, who was leaning up against the post of one of the tents, having just ministered to the dying needs of a gallant young dragoon officer, felt a light hand on her shoulder. She turned her white face, and encountered the eyes of her sister. Mollie's clear, steadfast brown eyes looked full into hers.
"Well, little brave girl," said Mollie, "and now why have you come? You were of great use last night. But what is it, Kitty, what is it?"
Kitty put her hand to her forehead.
"I forget," she said.
"You must come and have something. I can give you a cup of tea – such an inestimable boon! You shall have it; you deserve it. Come with me now."
She took the girl's hand and led her across to one of the marquees in the centre of the hospital. Here she gave her some tea, and made her sit down while she drank it. Kitty swallowed the tea, and then looked full at her sister with big, frightened eyes.
"I know now," she said. "Have you done it?"
"Done what, dear?"
"Then you haven't done it! I am in time, and you haven't done it!"
"Done what, Kitty, what?"
Kitty again looked wildly round her.
"I have come," she said. "I told a lie to come. I said I was a Red Cross sister. I was not."
"In one sense you were. You have been plucky of the plucky last night. But why have you come, Kitty? and where is Katherine?"
"I know nothing about her. I had to come to – save you. Is Major Strause here?"
"Major Strause!" said Molly. A faint colour came into her tired face. "No," she said; "he would not be here unless he were wounded."
"Thank God! thank God! Then you are not engaged to him."
Kitty burst into tears. Mollie knelt by her.
"What do you mean, child?" she said. "Not engaged to him! But I thought you wished it."
"Not now. I have repented. I have heard something. Mollie, you must never, under any circumstances, marry him – never, never!"
"Thank God," was Mollie's answer.
She took the little slight figure in her arms. Presently she lifted the girl up and carried her into the hospital. There was an empty bed, from which a dead soldier had been removed for burial. She put a clean sheet on it and laid Kitty down.
"Sleep, little heroine," she said. "And did you really come straight through the enemy's lines to tell me this?"
But Kitty was too tired to reply; already she was sound asleep.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE GREAT EXCITEMENT
Major Strause had meant to go straight to Mollie from Observation Hill. He trusted to his luck to bring him safely through the enemy's lines to Intombi; but that luck was altogether against him. He soon saw that it would have been at the sacrifice of his life had he attempted to reach the girl he hoped to make his bride on that day. Sulky and miserable, therefore, he was obliged to return to Ladysmith.
There he found the whole place in a turmoil of excitement. The news that full rations had been ordered, joined to the hope of possible relief, and the fact beyond all doubt that the Boers were already making treks for safer quarters, filled every mouth. The women of the town came out in their best dresses and made holiday. The men talked and laughed, and stood about in groups. The women did their shopping just as if no shells were bombarding the place. The soldiers shouted hearty congratulations the one to the other.
"Have you heard the news? Full rations to-day – no horse-flesh."
Cheers in each case followed this announcement. The soldiers would, many of them, have gladly given five years of their lives for a full meal. For the time being the thought of the full meals seemed even more important than the relief of Ladysmith. The major heard them talking, and more than one officer came up and expressed satisfaction at the new hope which was filling every breast. But the major scarcely replied. His whole soul was centred on one desire – he must win Mollie's consent to be his wife. More than ever was it necessary if the siege was likely to be raised. He must see Mollie, whatever happened. How was he to get to Intombi camp?
But, after all, he did get there easily enough. He went there in the ordinary course; for when Kitty, in her shelter in one of the caves, had seen lines of shadowy figures stealing past in the darkness, although she knew it not, one of these figures belonged to Major Strause. He, with a contingent of Light Infantry and three companies of the Devon Regiment, had marched out in the hope of making a last sortie against the enemy. The immediate results, so far as this story is concerned, were as follows: —
Early the next day Major Strause was sent to Intombi, a dangerously-wounded man. Both legs were hopelessly shattered, and there was nothing for it but amputation. He was taken into one of the tents, which, as it happened, contained no other occupant at the time. The surgeons immediately put him under chloroform, and quickly performed their work. When the operation was over he was relieved from pain. He was given champagne, and even laughed as he drank it. He said he was free from all suffering.
There was a peculiar expression on his face, a sort of change – a lightness as well as a brightness. The surgeons looked at one another, and then they went out of the tent and whispered in the passage outside. They did not like the soldier's manner. Very few people survived double amputation. He must remain very quiet. What nurse could be spared to look after him?
Just as they were talking in this way, the small new sister of the Red Cross appeared in sight. She was refreshed by her sleep, and although she was very much dazed and puzzled, there was a new strength about her face. One of the surgeons called her at once.
"I do not know you," he said. "What is your name?"
The girl thought for a minute; then she said boldly, —
"Sister Kitty."
"Sister Kitty?" said the doctor.
"Yes, sister of Nurse Mollie."
"Ah," he said, "if you are anything like her, you are indeed welcome to Intombi! Can you undertake a case now – at once?"
Kitty longed to say, "No," but it was useless. She could not be at Intombi without taking up her appointed work.
"I will do anything you like," she said.
"It is a serious case," said the surgeon, dropping his voice. "There is a man in there who in all probability won't live long. There is also, of course, a vague hope that he may recover. Everything practically depends on his nurse. He must be kept cheerful but very quiet. He will want some one to be with him all the time, in case of hemorrhage setting in."
"What sort of case is it?" said Kitty.
"The man's legs were shattered. We have been obliged to perform double amputation. Come this way, nurse; there is no time to lose."
The doctor drew aside a curtain, and ushered Kitty into the tent where Major Strause was lying. He saw her, and uttered a quick exclamation. Kitty saw him, and every vestige of colour left her face.
"Why, you know each other!" said the surgeon, in some astonishment.
"Yes," said Major Strause swiftly. "Of all the nurses in the camp this young lady you have brought to me can be most useful. I want to say something to her. For mercy's sake, leave us for a little time, Dr. Watson."
The doctor gave one or two very brief directions to Kitty, and left the tent. As soon as he had done so, Major Strause called her to his side.
"Stoop down, little girl," he said.
Kitty bent over him. Then she remembered the words she had heard the day before, and started back.
"I can't nurse you," she said.
"Why not?"
"Because – I did not know what you were; but I know now."
"What do you know, little girl?"
"I cannot tell you."
The major looked full at her.
"Never mind what you know," he said, after a pause. "Do you see that champagne bottle? Fill me out half a glass. I have a sinking sensation; I am not accustomed to it. Hold the wine to my lips."
Kitty was forced to obey. The major sipped the stimulant slowly. Then he said with a sigh, —
"That has done me good. But what were the doctors saying? I heard them whispering outside."
"They said you were very ill," replied Kitty.
"I should rather think I am – both legs gone at a crash! Nothing but the stump of the old major for the future. Hoped I could retrieve my position. Felt nearly mad last night – thought that nothing mattered – wanted to get to Intombi, and could not. Have reached Intombi. Well, the curtain closes here, and perhaps it is best. I say, little girl, how did you run the gauntlet of the enemy?"
"I came in the ambulance train," said Kitty.
"A good thought. Very plucky. Why did you come?"
"To save Mollie. And I think," added Kitty, and a wild light filled her eyes, and she looked full at the major's flushed and yet paling face – "I think God is saving her."
"From me?"
"Yes."
"You are right. It was a plucky thing of you to do. Tell me something else."
"What?"
"Do the doctors think I will recover?"
"I – don't – know."
"Speak, child; do you think I am afraid? Speak out."
"They – "
"Speak out."
"They think that you are in – "
"Danger?"
"Yes."
"I believe them," reiterated the major. "A man rarely gets over this sort of operation. I have seen enough of it since I came to Ladysmith. Well, we must all join the great majority some time, and I suppose my turn has come."
Kitty was silent. She did not like the major enough even to give him false hope. She stood by the bedside, and the grey look crept up and up the dying soldier's face. He lay very still, his eyes staring straight before him.
"Sit down," he said at last.
The little figure dropped into a seat near the foot of the bed.
"You dislike me very much?" he said then.
"I – hate you," answered the girl.
There was another silence.
"It seems wrong to hate a poor chap who is dying, and who, after all, has given his life for his country," said the major then.
Kitty was silent.
"I would rather die without a woman in my presence who hates me," he said, after a pause.
"Shall I go?" said Kitty, rising.
"No. Bad as you are, you are better than no one; and I must have stimulants. I say, a little more champagne."
Kitty filled up the glass again. He sipped it.
"It doesn't seem to pull me round," he said then. "I want brandy; champagne is not strong enough. Do you know what it is, little girl, to sink?"
"No," said Kitty.
"Don't you? – to sink right through the tent, and through the ground beneath? That's what I feel. I am slipping, slipping over the brink. That is it – slipping over the brink, little girl. How dark it is getting! Why don't you come near me? Can you hate a dying soldier who has given his life for his country?"
"No," said Kitty, and she suddenly burst into tears. When her tears came she fell forward against the soldier's bed, and took hold of one of his hands and laid her cheek against it.
"No; forgive me," she said. "I – don't – hate you any longer."
Her words troubled the major; a new look came into his face.
"If you forgive me, little Kitty," he said, "I wonder if God Almighty will?"
"Let's ask Him," said Kitty.
She began there and then to pray.
"Dear Lord God in heaven, forgive Major Strause. He is a very bad man, and he is going to die."
"That's it, Kitty," said the major, "put it strong."
"A very bad man," repeated Kitty, "and he is about to die, but he is – sorry."
"That's it, Kitty," said the major again. "Put it stronger."
"He is very sorry," repeated Kitty.
There was a silence. Kitty's head dropped against the bed. The major breathed quick and hard.
"Where's your sister?" he said suddenly.
"You can't see her," cried Kitty.
"I must."
The girl sprang to her feet.
"You can't."
"One minute, little Kitty. If you will help me, we will both do something. I think we have done wrong in the past – you in your way, I in mine. But while your sins are comparatively venial, mine – O mercy! I seem to see his dying face, and he is reproaching me. It is poor Aylmer. Tell him to get away. He scares me. I did not think that I could be scared; but he looks at me, and he scares me. – I'll put it right, Aylmer; yes, I'll put it right. – Kitty, you must help me. You and I together, little girl, can put everything right."
"What do you mean?" said Kitty.
She trembled all over, but still she kept herself in check.
"Listen, child. There are two people whom you and I have done all that man and woman could to part. Suppose, now, I give them back to one another; suppose you give them back. I restore them with my death, and you with your life. How does that sound? Do you think you can do your part if I do mine?"
"I don't know."
"You have no time to think. Be quick. If you will do it, I will do it."
The major's eyes began to shine with fever.
"Be quick," he said. "I believe you will do it. Fetch Sister Mollie." And Kitty went.
Sister Mollie was indeed busy, for every tent in the hospital was full. If Major Strause survived another hour, soldiers would be brought to share his tent with him; but the surgeons had implored for an hour or two of perfect quiet in a case of so much danger. Kitty, with her white face and her startled eyes, rushed to her sister's side.
"Let them all go, let them all go!" she said. "It is life or death. Come at once – at once!"
"Yes, go, Sister Mollie; I will look after the cases," said another capable-looking nurse who stood near.
Mollie glanced at Kitty, read she knew not what in her eyes, and went with her.
"What are they firing about? what is the excitement?" said Mollie suddenly.
She stopped; then she ran to the door. Kitty ran with her.
"Why, what is it?" she said. "Who are those soldiers? Not Boers. No, our men, and galloping! No horses in Ladysmith have galloped for many days. O Kitty, Kitty, what does it mean?"
"I don't know," said Kitty. "But come; it is a case of life or death."
A wild, tremendous, all-inspiriting cheer burst at this moment on the air, and the galloping horses came nearer, and the sick men who were able to move in the hospital raised their languid heads, and the orderlies and doctors shouted, and even the nurses came out, as Lord Dundonald, with a small body of mounted troops, made a dash across the hills, and passed Intombi on his way to Ladysmith.
"'Lift up your heads; for your redemption draweth nigh,'" said Mollie.
She looked at Kitty, but Kitty had scarcely heard the words.
"Quick! quick!" she cried; "there is something to be done – something for you and something for him." And she led Mollie to the tent where Major Strause lay dying.
"What is that noise?" said the major; "a fresh battle, eh?"
"Relief! relief!" cried Mollie.
"The relief of – death?"
"The relief of life," said Mollie. "Lord Dundonald has just ridden past on his way to Ladysmith."
The major looked dimly round him.
"It is quite dark," he said. "I do – not seem – to – understand. I can scarcely see – your face. Are you really Mollie Hepworth?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Stoop down – come very close; I should like to look at you once again. You promised, on certain conditions, to marry me?"
"I did."
"Come still closer. Now I can see your face; yes, thank God, in my dying moments I can see it. It is good and strong, and like that of an angel – an archangel. Did you mean your words, archangel?"
"Yes."
"Thank God for that too. You, of all women on God's earth, could have made a good man of me, and for you alone on my death-bed I repent. Listen. The story I told you about Keith was false as hell. I wanted money, and I thought I could blackmail him, and I seemed to see my way when Aylmer was reported to be in danger. It was I who changed the medicines. I put a wrong label on each bottle. Little Kitty here is witness, and you are witness. I was at the bottom of that dastardly plot. It was I who caused the death of Aylmer. Keith is one of the best fellows living – yes, Mollie, one of the best; and take him, take him as your husband, for little Kitty and I give him to you."
"Yes, Major Strause and I give him to you," said Kitty, and she fell forward against the bed.
The major looked at her, and then he looked at Mollie, and he smiled and tried to put out his hand through the darkness to clasp Mollie's.
"The only good woman – I ever knew," he whispered once.
His hand relaxed its hold. He was dead.
