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.