Complete weird tales of.., p.522
Complete Weird Tales of Robert W Chambers, page 522
Colonel Arran had brought back with him from Washington a Captain Hallam, a handsome youngster who wore his cavalry uniform to perfection and who had become instantly attentive to Ailsa, — so attentive that before she realised it he was a regular visitor at her house, appropriating the same chair that Berkley always had — Berkley! ——
At the memory she closed her eyes instinctively. The wound throbbed,
“What is the matter, Mrs. Paige?” inquired Captain Hallam anxiously. “Are you faint?”
She opened her eyes and smiled in pretence of surprise at such a question; and Hallam muttered: “I thought you seemed rather pale all of a sudden.” Then he brightened up and went gaily on with what he had been saying:
“We’ve got nine full companies already, and the 10th, K, is an independent company which we’re taking in to complete our organisation. Colonel Arran and I stopped in Philadelphia to inspect Colonel Rush’s regiment of lancers — the 6th Pennsylvania Cavalry — because the French officers on McClellan’s staff have put it into his head that he needs lancers — —”
“Is Colonel Arran’s regiment to carry lances?” interrupted Ailsa in surprise.
Hallam nodded, laughing: “We recruited as light cavalry, armed with sabre and pistol, but General McClellan has ordered that we carry the lance in addition. The department had none to issue until the foreign samples arrived. We are ordered to carry a lance of the Austrian pattern, nine feet long with an eleven-inch, three-edged blade; the staff of Norway fir about an inch and a quarter through, with ferrule and counter poise at the heel. Do I make myself clear, Mrs. Paige?”
Ailsa, thinking of Berkley, flushed slightly and nodded.
“There’ll be a scarlet swallow-tailed pennon on the end just below the blade point. The whole affair will weigh about five pounds,” concluded Hallam, rising to take his leave; “and I’ve got to be off to camp.”
“Must you go, Captain Hallam?”
“I really must. That K Company is due in camp this evening, and I expect our uniforms and equipments will be delivered in the morning. Are you coming to see us off, Mrs. Paige?”
“When do you go? Colonel Arran said nothing about going.”
“Oh, I expect we’ll be on our way before very long. We are not in the best of shape yet; that’s not to be expected. But there’s a sad lack of cavalry in Washington, and they may want us to go whether we’re ready or not. They sent off a regiment that had neither arms nor uniforms and couldn’t even keep step, the other day. I’ve an idea we are going pretty soon.” He took Ailsa’s offered hand, looked at her a little earnestly, smiled in self-satisfaction, and went his way.
Later in the week he came back for a few moments; and all through the week he continued to come back for a few moments whenever he had an hour’s leave.
And every time he took his leave his smile became less nervous and more confident.
She was very unhappy; devotion to Dr. Benton’s class helped; devotion to Celia in her brief visits to Brooklyn helped, too; devotion to others, to prayer, all helped as long as it was devotion of some sort.
And now this young, blue-eyed, blonde-haired fellow was on the edge of offering to devote himself to her. She knew it, wondered whether this was her refuge from care. And when he did, at last, she was quietly prepared to answer.
“Captain Hallam,” she said slowly, “I do like you. I don’t know whether I could ever learn to love you. I am not very happy; it might influence my judgment. If you are willing to wait until I know more about myself — —”
Oh, he would wait! Certainly. Meanwhile would she wear his ring — not exactly an engagement — unless she was willing — but ——
She hesitated. Lonelier than she had ever been in all her life, no longer self-sufficient, wistfully hopeless, needing to devote herself absolutely to something or somebody, she hesitated. But that evening when Hallam came with his ring she could not bring herself to accept what she now seemed to be most deeply in need of — the warm, eager, complacent affection that he laid at her feet. She was not yet able — could not; and the desolate memories of Berkley set the wound aching anew. . . . No, she could promise nothing to this young fellow — nothing yet. . . . Perhaps, in the future — as time passed — she might venture to wear his ring, and see what happened to her. But she would not promise — she would not talk of marrying him. . . . And cried herself to sleep over the memory of Berkley, and his vileness, and his heartless wickedness, and his ignoble love that had left her so ashamed, so humiliated, so cruelly crushed for ever. And all night long she dreamed of Berkley and of his blessed nearness; and the sweetness of her dream troubled her profoundly. She sat up, still asleep, her straining throat whispering his name, her arms outstretched, blindly searching the darkness for him, until suddenly awake, she realised what she was doing, and dropped back among her pillows.
All that day the city was filled with rumours of a great battle fought in Virginia. The morning’s papers hailed it with triumphant head-lines and columns of praise and thanksgiving for a great victory won. But at night the stunned city knew that Bull Run had been fought and lost, and the Confederacy was at the gates of Washington.
CHAPTER XI
IN A CITY where thousands and thousands of women were now organising relief work for the troops already in the field, Ailsa Paige had been among the earliest to respond to the call for a meeting at the Church of the Puritans. Here she had left her name for enrolment with Mrs. Gerard Stuyvesant.
Later, with Mrs. Marquand, Mrs. Aspinwall, Mrs. Astor, and Mrs. Hamilton Fish, and a hundred others, she had signed the call for the great mass-meeting; had acted on one of the subcommittees chosen from among the three thousand ladies gathered at the Institute; had served with Mrs. Schuyler on the board of the Central Relief Association; had been present at the inception of the Sanitary Commission and its adjunct, the Allotment Commission; had contributed to the Christian Commission, six thousand of whose delegates were destined to double the efficiency of the armies of the Union.
Then Sainte Ursula’s Sisterhood, organised for field as well as hospital service, demanded all her energies. It was to be an emergency corps; she had hesitated to answer the call, hesitated to enroll for this rougher service, and, troubled, had sought counsel from Mr. Dodge and Mr. Bronson of the Allotment Commission, and from Dr. Agnew of the Sanitary Commission.
Dr. Agnew wrote to Dr. Benton:
“Mrs. Paige is a very charming and very sweet little lady, excellently equipped by experience to take the field with Sainte Ursula’s Sisterhood, but self-distrustful and afraid of her own behaviour on a battle-field where the emergency corps might be under fire. In this sort of woman I have every confidence.”
The next day Ailsa enrolled; arranged her household affairs so that she could answer any summons at a few hours’ notice; and went to bed dead tired, and slept badly, dreaming of dead men. The morning sun found her pale and depressed. She had decided to destroy Berkley’s letters. She burned all, except one; then went to her class work.
Dr. Benton’s class was very busy that morning, experimenting on the doctor’s young assistant with bandages, ligatures, lint, and splints. Letty, wearing only her underclothes, lay on the operating table, her cheek resting on her bared arm, watching Ailsa setting a supposed compound fracture of the leg, and, at intervals, quietly suggesting the proper methods.
Autumn sunshine poured through the windows gilding the soft gray garb of Sainte Ursula’s nursing sisterhood which all now wore on duty.
The girl on the table lay very still, now and then directing or gently criticising the well-intended operations on limb and body. And after the allotted half hour had struck, she sat up, smiling at Ailsa, and, slipping to the floor, dressed rapidly, talking all the while in her pretty, gentle way about bandages and bones and fractures and dislocations.
A few minutes after she had completed dressing and was standing before the glass, smoothing the dark, silky masses of her hair, Dr. Benton arrived, absent-eyed, preoccupied at first, then in a fidgety humour which indicated something was about to happen. It happened.
“Could any lady get ready in time to take the noon train for
Washington?” he asked abruptly.
There was a startled silence; the call had come at last.
Mrs. Rutherford said quietly: “I will go. But I must see my husband and children first. I could be ready by to-morrow, if that will do.”
Another — a young girl — said: “I could not leave my mother at an hour’s notice. She is ill. Would tomorrow do, Dr. Benton?”
“I — think I can go to-day,” said Ailsa in a low voice.
“Our quota is to be two nurses,” said the doctor. But no other lady could possibly leave before the morrow; and it was, after all, scarcely fair to expect it of women with families to be provided for and home responsibilities to be arranged.
“I could go to-day — if I may be permitted,” said the doctor’s young assistant, timidly.
He swung around and scowled at her, lips compressed, eyes gleaming through his spectacles:
“You are not asked to go, Miss Lynden.”
“I — thought — —”
“Do you want to go?”
“If Mrs. Paige is going — alone — —”
Ailsa looked at her, gratefully surprised, but smiled her thanks.
“If Miss Lynden may come, Dr. Benton, I would be very glad. May she?”
“Miss Lynden is not a member of Sainte Ursula’s congregation,” he said drily. “She’s my — rather valuable — assistant.”
“She has been to church with me several times,” said Ailsa. “I have spoken to her about becoming a communicant of Sainte Ursula’s, and she desired to begin her instruction in October — —”
“But, confound it! — I want her with me!” interrupted the doctor impatiently. “My house and office require the services of Miss Lynden!” He turned and paced the room rapidly, hands clasped behind his bent back; then, halting:
“Do you want to go?” he repeated.
The girl coloured. “You are very kind to wish me to remain. . . .
But I feel as though Mrs. Paige should not go alone.”
“Oh, all right,” said the doctor gruffly. “And you’d better start at once; that train leaves at mid-day.” And, turning to his class: “Now, ladies, if you will kindly put away those rags and give me your strict and undivided attention!” — his voice rumbled off into a growl.
Ailsa was already putting on her hat. Presently Letty Lynden came out of the inner office, carrying a light scarf over her arm. She and Ailsa bade a hasty and excited good-bye to the ladies of the class; thanked Dr. Benton; listened solemnly to instructions; promised to obey; and gave him tremulous hands in leave taking.
“If those ungrateful dogs of soldiers don’t appreciate you two young ladies, come home on the next train, where you’ll be appreciated,” grumbled the doctor. “Anyway, God bless you both. And don’t drink dirty water! And keep your patients clean! Keep ’em clean! clean! clean! I’ve a notion that cleanness is nine-tenths of surgery; and it’s all there is to nursing — but few agree with me. Good-bye! Tell Agnew I say that you know your business!”
Ailsa turned to Letty Lynden.
“It is so sweet of you to want to come. Will you send your trunk to my house? I will have luncheon ready, and another gray uniform for you. You’ll be a communicant soon, so there is no possible harm in wearing it.”
“I would like to wear Sainte Ursula’s garb,” said the girl wistfully. “Do you really think I may, Mrs. Paige?”
“You shall indeed! Will you be ready by eleven?”
“I have very little to take with me — only a small trunk. I will be at your house at eleven.”
Ailsa, nervous and excited, nodded; the suddenness of departure was beginning to stimulate her. She walked rapidly home, summoned the servants, interviewed the house-keeper, sat down and drew necessary checks to cover a month’s absence; sent hurried notes to Celia, to Camilla, to Colonel Arran, to Captain Hallam; dispatched a servant to find a hack, another to pack for her, another to serve her something to eat.
The household below stairs was inclined to tears; old Jonas sniffled and shuffled about, shrunken hands hanging helpless, mild eyes following his young mistress as she moved decisively from room to room, gathering up or indicating to servants what she required for her journey.
Shawls, handbags, umbrellas, cloaks, and trunk were packed and strapped and carried off below. Letty arrived with her trunk, was taken to Ailsa’s room where luncheon for two was ready on a big silver tray.
Later Jonas arrived, still sniffling, to announce the hack; and the two gray-garbed women hurried away amid the hysterical snivel of servants and the friendly mewing of Missy, who trotted after them to the front door, tail erect, followed by her latest progeny on diminutive and wavering legs.
All the way to the ferry Ailsa sat silent in her corner of the hack, worried, reflecting, trying to recollect what it was that she had left undone.
Something important she certainly had forgotten; she knew it, searching her mind, while Letty furtively watched her in silence, gloved hands clasped in her lap.
And suddenly Ailsa knew, and a flood of colour dyed her face; for the vague sense of leaving something undone was the instinct to let Berkley know she was going — the blind, unreasoning need for some communication with him.
Had it been possible that all this time she had not utterly uprooted this man from her insulted heart! Had hope, all this time, unconsciously lived latent in her; was it possible that somehow, somewhere, there remained a chance for him yet — a chance for her — a cure — the only cure for all he had done to her — himself!
She reddened painfully again as memory, insolent, imperious, flashed in her brain, illuminating the unquiet past, sparing her nothing — no, not one breathless heart beat, not one atom of the shame and the sweetness of it, not one dishonourable thrill she had endured for love of him, not one soundless cry at night where she lay tortured, dumb, hands clenched but arms wide flung as her heart beat out his name, calling, calling to the man who had ended himself for ever.
And Letty, silent in her comer, watched her without a word.
At the station, scarcely knowing what she did, Ailsa stopped at the telegraph office and wrote a despatch to him, addressing it to his old lodgings:
“I don’t know whether this will ever reach you, but I can’t go without trying to let you know that I am leaving for Washington as volunteer nurse. They have my address at the house.
“AILSA PAIGE.”
Then the two gray-garbed women hurried to the train, but found no seats together until a lank, sad-eyed lieutenant of artillery gave up his place and doubled in with a sweating, red-necked contractor from St. Louis, who sat in his shirt sleeves, fanning himself with his straw hat.
The day was hot; the car dusty, ill-smelling, uncomfortable.
At Philadelphia their train was stalled for hours. Two long trains, loaded with ammunition and a section of field-artillery, had right of way; and then another train filled with jeering, blue-clad infantry blocked them.
The soldiers, bare headed and in their undershirts, lolled and yelled and hung from the car windows, chewing tobacco, smoking, or gazing, jaws a-gape, at the crowds in the station.
Another train rolled by, trailing a suffocating stench of cattle and hogs from its slatted stock-cars; and Ailsa was almost stifled before her train at last moved heavily southward, saluted by good-natured witticisms from the soldiers at the windows of the stalled troop train.
Evening came, finding them somewhere in Delaware; the yellow stars appeared, the air freshened a little. Letty had fallen asleep; her dark lashes rested quietly on her cheeks, but the car jolted her head cruelly, and Ailsa gently drew it to her own shoulder and put one arm around her.
A major of heavy artillery turned toward her from his seat and said:
“Are you a volunteer nurse, ma’am?”
“Yes,” motioned Ailsa with her lips, glancing cautiously at Letty.
“Can I do anything for you at Wilmington?”
She thanked him, smiling. He was disposed to be very friendly.
“You ladies arc the right stuff,” he said. “I’ve seen you aboard those abominable transports, behaving like angels to the poor sea-sick devils. I saw you after Big Bethel, scraping the blood and filth off of the wounded zouaves; I saw you in Washington after Bull Run, doing acts of mercy that, by God, madam! would have turned my stomach. . . . Won’t you let me do something for you. You don’t need any whisky for your sick boys, do you?”
Ailsa smiled and shook her head, saying they had not yet been assigned to duty.
“I haven’t anything else to offer you except tobacco,” said the
Major ruefully, and subsided.
At Wilmington, however, he got out, and presently reappeared with hard-boiled eggs and sandwiches, a big bottle of cold, sweet milk, and a basket of fruit. Letty awoke; realised that Ailsa had been holding her in her arms; looked at her in confusion, then impulsively bent and laid her lips against Ailsa’s hands.
“Why — child — I didn’t mind,” faltered Ailsa, flushing in response to Letty’s swift emotion. “See what this very kind officer has brought us for dinner, dear! Isn’t it delicious?”
They were as hungry as two school children and ate everything; and by and by the Major of heavy artillery came back and reversed the seat he had been occupying, and arranged it so he could sit facing them. He was fat, red-faced, with a pair of terrific moustaches, and a closely clipped head showing two scars.
“I’ve daughters older than you, ma’am,” he said, in part explanation of his friendliness. “One’s got a new baby. He’s a devil!”
