“MAB, are you awake?”
“Go away; I hate you!” was the muffled reply. Mabel had thrown herself, dressed, upon her bed, and her face was buried in the pillow. She shook off Flora’s hand angrily from her shoulder as she spoke.
“Why, Mab, I only wanted to tell you—— What have I done?”
Mabel sat up and pushed back her hair. “They let you go and help with him,” she said venomously, “and they kept me out. Dick called you—I heard him myself. And they wouldn’t let me come. Eustace held my hands. And you went—and helped them.”
“I didn’t do anything but hold things for them, really. Dr Tighe did it all, and your brother helped him. I had to go when they called me.”
“Did he look at you—recognise you? If he did, I’ll never forgive you.”
“No, not a bit. But, Mab——”
“I’m glad of that, at any rate. And you came to say I might go to him now?”
“Yes, Mr Burgrave spoke to Dr Tighe. But don’t say you’re glad he didn’t look at me. It will make you miserable all your life to have even thought it.”
“Why, what is the matter?” asked Mabel impatiently, as Flora barred her way to the door.
“I can’t let you go into the room without realising it. His—his hair is all burnt off, Mab, and he’s fearfully scorched. You can’t see anything but bandages, and he is quite insensible.”
“It’s only the shock. He must come round soon.”
“That’s not all. I must tell you. The explosion seems to have paralysed all his faculties. He is deaf and dumb and blind—for the time.”
“Oh, for the time, of course. But he won’t be deaf when I speak to him. Don’t keep me here, Flora. I want to wake him.”
Flora drew back reluctantly, and Mabel ran across the courtyard. At the door of the sick-room, which was a makeshift structure erected since the earthquake at the corner where two verandahs joined, she met Dr Tighe.
“So I hear you want to play at nursing a little, Miss North?” he said, not unkindly, but by no means as if he regarded her intention as serious. “Do you think you won’t fall asleep? Can you keep cool, whatever happens? Not that you could do much harm if you went into hysterics,” he added, half to himself. “The poor fellow wouldn’t be disturbed.”
Even this slighting estimate of her powers did not provoke Mabel to protest. “What have I to do?” she asked, with determined calmness, and the doctor looked at her curiously.
“I want you to sit beside him and watch for any sound or movement. If there is the least change, send for me at once. I must spend the night over at the hospital, but I am leaving my boy in the verandah here, and he will fetch me whenever you want me.”
“Wait, please. May I speak to him?”
“Who—the boy? Oh, the patient. Yes, of course, as much as you like, if it will ease your mind. Didn’t I tell you that he couldn’t hear you?” He glanced sharply at her, but she turned away from him, and went into the room without saying anything, leaving him puzzled. “I feel a bit of a brute,” he said to himself, as he crossed to the passage leading into the hospital, “but she must keep up. I don’t want her on my hands in hysterics, in addition to all the rest.”
Mabel sat down quietly beside the bed. A smoky native lamp shed a flickering light through the little room, rendering dimly visible the swathed figure which lay absolutely motionless in its shroud of bandages. Of the face nothing could be seen, and the bandaged hands were stretched straight at the sides. A great terror seized Mabel. Surely he must be dead? She laid her hand timidly on the wrist nearest her, so lightly as scarcely to touch it, but the contact served to reassure her. He was still living, and she resigned herself to her silent and solitary watch.
At first she was so much absorbed in listening and looking for the sounds and movements which never came, that she had no thought of her surroundings, but after a time they forced themselves upon her notice. The deathlike silence all around, the presence of that shrouded form upon the bed, the uncertain light—all combined to strain her nerves to their utmost tension. She would have risen and walked about, in the hope of breaking the spell, but she discovered that she had no power to stir. The semi-darkness was full of shadows for which she could not account, and small mysterious noises sounded in her ears like thunder-claps. Over and over again she thought she saw her patient move, only to find that her eyes had deceived her, and the breathless expectation did but increase the strain upon her. By degrees her terror grew almost uncontrollable, but she fought against it doggedly. Never in her life had she placed such constraint upon herself. The door was so near, two steps would take her to it, and once outside she would be safe from the shadows and the silence. But she gripped her chair hard with both hands, and at last the impulse passed away. Next came the temptation to scream—to shriek, sing, do anything to break the stillness. She was shaking from head to foot; it seemed utterly impossible to check her sobs, yet she succeeded in crushing them down. The struggle was a fearful one, and she felt that her self-command would not hold out much longer. She looked at her watch, and resolved to remain quiet for five minutes, whatever happened. When the five minutes was over, she renewed the resolution for another five minutes, and so on, and the expedient was successful for a time. Then it became more and more difficult to maintain, and the periods of five minutes dwindled to four, three, and finally one. She gazed at the watch aghast. It was impossible that so much agony and mental stress could have been crowded into one minute. But the watch had not stopped, and she gave up the conflict, and burst into tears.
“Fitz!” she wailed, dropping on her knees beside the bed. “Fitz!”
Surely he would hear. Georgia had said that Dick’s voice would reach her if she were dead. But in this case there was no answer.
“Oh, Fitz, speak to me!” she entreated. “I am so frightened.”
The piteous voice died away. It must have availed to pierce the silence which enwrapped him, she thought, and yet he would not speak. Could it be that he was resolved to punish her for her coldness in the past, to humble her pride in return for all she had made him suffer? Or perhaps he did not understand even yet.
“Fitz,” she murmured softly, “I love you.”
No sooner had the words escaped her lips than she sprang up aghast. They seemed to be echoed back by the walls on every side, to be whispered by mocking sprites, to clang like the strokes of great bells. “I love you! I love you!” The air was full of them, and she was overwhelmed with shame.
“Oh, if you don’t hate me, say just one word!” she sobbed. “I am so ashamed, but you said you loved me. Oh, Fitz, it’s not like you to be so unkind! And I thought you would be glad to know.”
Surely he must answer now?—but she sobbed on, and there came no word of comfort.
“Well, Miss North, and what’s all this about?” said Dr Tighe.
He stood at the door, looking in at her, and Mabel sprang to her feet and confronted him, shaking with sobs, her face stained with tears.
“It’s—it’s only—I was speaking to him, and he won’t answer,” she managed to say.
“But I told you he wouldn’t. He can’t. Why, he doesn’t even hear you.”
“I thought I could make him hear.”
“As well try to wake the dead. No, no; what an idiot I am!” as she recoiled from him in terror. “Purely a figure of speech, nothing more. Now I will take a turn of watching, and do you go and get some rest.”
“Oh no, I won’t leave him. I am not a bit tired.”
“Go to Mrs North. She can’t sleep either, and she and her ayah have got some coffee for you. It will soon be daylight, and you had better rest while you can.”
“As if I should think of leaving him!” repeated Mabel in scorn.
“I won’t be defied by my own nurses, Miss North. If you don’t go peaceably, I’ll have you gently assisted out, and once outside this room you won’t get in again.”
“Oh, how can you be so unkind!” sobbed Mabel, breaking down abjectly.
“I am not unkind. I want you to help me a great deal with the poor fellow, and that’s why I insist upon your resting now. You shall come on duty again in four hours or so, and I’ll promise faithfully to call you if there’s any change in the meantime.”
Slowly and reluctantly Mabel left the room, and went along the verandah to Georgia’s door. Georgia was sitting up in a long cane chair, and welcomed her cheerfully.
“Come in, Mab. It seems absurdly early to be up, but I knew how cold and miserable you would feel after being awake all night. This is the very last of the coffee. Dr Tighe has lavished it upon us recklessly on the chance of our being relieved to-day, so make the most of it.”
“I couldn’t touch it, Georgie!” with a gesture of disgust.
“Oh yes, you can, to please me. After you have drunk it you shall lie down on my bed, and if you can’t sleep, we will talk. Why, you are shivering! Put on that shawl, and now drink the coffee,” and Mabel obeyed.
“Let me stay here, Georgie,” she said when she had finished, sitting down on the floor, and laying her head on Georgia’s knee. “I like to be close to you. You understand things.” Georgia stroked her hair softly, and she went on, “Other people don’t understand—even Flora, or Dr Tighe. And Dick was horrid last night. The only person who seems to know how I feel is poor Eustace—he understands.”
“Yes, he has suffered himself.”
“And that is my fault. But I never knew how it hurt till now, Georgie, or I couldn’t have done it, and now that I do know, it’s too late. I know now how you feel about Dick, because of what I feel about him. I can’t bear any one else to do a single thing for him, and if he became conscious again while I was away, I should be ready to kill Dr Tighe. Isn’t it strange that to-day I would give anything to hear him say the things that made me so angry a little while ago, and that I have said things in his ear to-night that would have made him perfectly happy then, and now he can’t even hear them? Oh, Georgie, if he should never hear them—if he should die without recovering his senses!”
“We can only hope—and pray,” said Georgia gently.
“I know, but you must pray—I can’t. You have always been kind to him, at any rate; I haven’t. I don’t deserve that he should get well, I know—but I do want him so much. When I think that he has been wasting his love upon me all this time, while I was too proud to take it, I feel it would serve me right if I never had the chance of telling him how glad and thankful I am to have it. But I do love him, Georgie, indeed I do.”
“I know you do, Mab,” said Georgia, still passing her hand softly over Mabel’s hair. She would not allow a word of reproach to cross her lips, but in her heart there was a little tumult of wifely indignation. Mabel was so much engrossed with Fitz Anstruther as not even to remember that her brother had taken his life in his hand and gone straight into the enemy’s camp. “But it is only natural. Perhaps I should do the same in her place,” thought Georgia, and continued the pleasant restful movement. Before very long Mabel was asleep, and she was still crouched upon the floor, leaning against Georgia, when Dr Tighe came to say that she might take her second turn of watching in the sick-room. She awoke with a start, while he was talking to Georgia in an excited whisper.
“Yes, Mrs North, I’m certain there’s something up. Two or three distinct jirgahs seem to be going on in the enemy’s lines, and though they began to make preparations for fighting two hours ago, they don’t get any forrarder. And we are almost certain that there’s a movement of some kind in progress at the back of Gun Hill. There may be artillery there, taking up a position, or possibly the whole relief column is preparing to occupy the heights. If it’s anything of the sort, it’s all due to that marvellous husband of yours, whom I’d make Viceroy this very hour if I had my way.”
“And he would be excessively unhappy at Government House, and the cause of extreme misery to every one else,” laughed Georgia; but Mabel, who had been listening to their talk half asleep, sprang up.
“Oh, Doctor, is there any change? Is he awake?”
“No change whatever, I’m sorry to say. Have your breakfast before you come across, and then I’ll leave you in charge while I go my morning rounds in the hospital.”
Very soon Mabel was at her post again, wondering at the horror which night and silence had lent to the rough-walled, commonplace little room. The full blaze of sunlight never reached this particular corner of the courtyard until late in the afternoon, but the hole which had been left as a window admitted a certain amount of light. Through it also there came pleasantly distant sounds of life and movement from the other parts of the fort. As Mabel sat with her eyes fixed upon the bed, the murmur of different noises lulled her into a state very nearly resembling sleep, and once again she thought she saw a movement, only to discover that it was merely fancy. Another period of intense vigilance passing gradually into semi-consciousness followed, the mere effort of concentrating her gaze on one object inclining her to slumber, and then there came a sudden awakening. Was it thunder, or another earthquake, or what could be the meaning of those tremendous crashes, each of which was welcomed by cries of delight from the walls?
“Guns, I suppose,” said Mabel to herself, still half asleep. “Perhaps it will wake him.” She bent forward eagerly, but there was still no movement, and she sat down again disappointed. The crashes and the shouts of joy overhead still continued, but she made no attempt to learn what was going on, not so much from reluctance to leave her post as from sheer lack of interest. Suddenly there came a different sound, a singing, shrieking noise, deepening into a groan as it came nearer. She had never heard it before, and yet she knew by instinct what it meant.
“A shell!” she cried, springing up involuntarily. However long she may live, she will never remember that moment without a blush of bitter humiliation, for she sprang up to run away. But the impulse was only momentary. Even before she could turn towards the door a rush of incredulous shame swept over her and made her throw herself on her knees by the bed. She clasped one of the bandaged hands in hers to give herself courage. “I will die with him!” she said, and burying her face in the coverlet, waited. It seemed to her that she waited for hours, and yet only the minutest fraction of time can have elapsed between her recognition of the nature of the sound and the concussion which followed—a deafening, rending noise, which seemed to comprise within itself all imaginable sounds of terror, and which was intensified a hundredfold by the echoes it evoked from the walls of the fort. To Mabel it felt as if the world was coming to an end, and she was being buried in the ruins, but at this point she lost consciousness, and knew no more until she found Dr Tighe and Flora dashing water into her face, rubbing her hands, and using various other means to revive her. Her first impression was of a blaze of intense light, and it only dawned upon her gradually that the roof of the room and the two walls facing the courtyard were gone, their shattered fragments lying in heaps around.
“I’ll never forgive myself!” cried Dr Tighe frantically. “What business had I to be trespassing upon the walls, just to watch the practice our fellows were making, and leaving my patients to be killed without me? The moment I saw the Nalapuri horse trying to escape across the canal, and the gun on the hill turned round to cover them, I said, ‘We’ll have a shell dumped into us in another minute,’ and sure enough we had.”
“What was it, then?” asked Mabel feebly.
“Thank God you’re alive yet! ’Twas one of our own shells that fell short, and as nearly as possible wrecked the whole place. I made sure you were done for when Miss Graham and I got you out.”
“Oh, but what about him—is he safe?” cried Mabel, starting up and pushing her way into the corner where the bed stood. Its position had protected it to a wonderful extent from the falling timbers of the roof and walls, but it was covered with smaller fragments, and enveloped in a haze of dust which was only now dispersing. But Mabel cared nothing for the dust or falling plaster.
“He’s talking!” she shrieked to Dr Tighe, who followed her, stumbling over the rubbish on the floor. “Hush, oh, hush! I must hear what he says.”
Dr Tighe held his breath, and Flora quickly waved back the curious servants and others who had been attracted to the spot by the bursting of the shell, and withdrew with them out of earshot. Mabel, kneeling beside the bed, was listening hungrily to the words which poured from the patient’s lips, not spoken with any apparent difficulty, but rattled off in quick low tones.
“Awfully good job those Sikh fellows are making such a noise on the wall. I’m sure I dislodged something then, but I didn’t hear it fall. Perhaps it fell on our friend down below. Rather a startler for him, but he’ll be waiting for me. Hope he looks in the wrong place. This is the best point to drop from, I should think. Hope and trust there are no sharp bricks and things to come down upon. It’s creepy work. One, two, three, and away! So far, so good. Now to stalk our friend. If he’s trying to stalk me at the same moment, our heads will probably meet with a bang. I’ll have my knife out—revolver would be too risky. Ah—h—h—h—what’s that? The powder-bag, I’ll swear; but I thought it was the man. Now if only I knew where you are at this moment, my friend, I would drag your bags to a safe distance, and give you a nice little hunt for them. But it would be awkward if you came on me from behind, so I’ll wait here. Wonder if my eyes shine in the dark like a cat’s? That would give him rather a turn; he might think it was a tiger. Hullo! back already, are you, and another lot of powder too? Now if you’ll only leave it behind you, and retire gracefully for the moment, we’ll whip it up over the wall in no time, and requisition it for her Majesty’s service. Oh, that’s it, is it? Well, you are a cool hand, I must say, to make your bed on a heap of powder-bags! But I can’t stay watching you until you choose to make a move. I might sneeze, you know, so I’m afraid I must trouble you. Now then! just hand over that knife. Oh, that’s your little game, is it? This is not playing fair. Firearms not allowed on any account. I say!”
There was a pause, a sigh, and the voice went on again.
“I never guessed these bricks would be so knobby. It’s rather rough negotiating them without any boots. Awfully good job those Sikh fellows are making such a noise on the wall. I’m sure I dislodged something then——” Mabel lifted an agonised face to the doctor.
“He’s saying the same things over again. What does it all mean?”
“He is going over the last two or three minutes before the explosion. I suppose the thoughts and impressions of that time have fixed themselves in his mind, which seems to have been set working again by the shock of the bursting shell. Very likely he will go on like this.”
“What! Always?” cried Mabel, in horror.
“We’ll hope not, though I have known cases in which the effect of such a shock has been permanent. The brain seems unable ever to receive any other impression afterwards. But he can’t well go on talking at this rate long, and when he’s exhausted he may sink into a stupor, and emerge in a more rational state of mind. I wonder whether his hearing has returned? Anstruther!”
There was no answer. “You try,” said the doctor.
“Fitz!” cried Mabel, her tones sharpened by anxiety; but the low monotonous voice rambled on, and there was no response to be discerned.
“We can’t do anything. He must go on until he is tired,” said Dr Tighe. “And you had better go on the sick-list yourself, Miss North. You’re a good deal knocked about.”
To her astonishment, Mabel found that this was the case. Bruises and flesh-wounds of which she had not been conscious were painfully evident on her arms and shoulders, and her dress was torn in a dozen places. But she refused to leave her post until the time Dr Tighe had appointed her was over; and perceiving that she would not be able to rest while Fitz was in this state, he consented to do what he could for her on the spot, and allowed her to remain for the present. It was almost more heart-rending to listen to the often-repeated story of the last few minutes of consciousness Fitz had known, than it had been to see him lying silent, but she remained at her post until the low hurrying tones became intermittent, and finally ceased altogether. By this time the servants had contrived, by means of screens and loose boards, partially to repair, or at least to conceal, the dilapidation of the room, for Dr Tighe declined to attempt the removal of the patient, assuring Mabel cheerfully that he was in the safest place in the fort. Even if the relieving column should chance to drop in a few more shells, all the probabilities were against their falling in the same spot. Thus assured, Mabel consented to allow her own hurts to be looked to, and swallowed with unexpected docility the draught which the doctor gave her. She did so the more readily that she began to be conscious she could not keep up much longer. The vigil and terror of the night, the alarm and anxiety of the day, seemed to have robbed her of every vestige of strength, and she had no mind to allow herself to be ousted from the post which was hers by right. If she was to continue in charge of Fitz, she must contrive to get the doctor on her side, and not alienate him by opposition to his orders.
This time she had no difficulty in obtaining rest. Her eyes closed almost as soon as she threw herself on her bed, and she slept without waking until the evening. When at length she awoke, she sprang up in alarm. Why had no one called her? It was actually getting dark, and the courtyard looked utterly deserted. What had happened? She threw on her dress, and ran along the verandah to the sick-room. Just as she reached it, the screen which served as a door was moved aside, and Dick and Dr Tighe came out, accompanied by a sunburnt elderly man in khaki campaigning uniform.
“My sister,” said Dick laconically. “We have been taking Colonel Slaney to see Anstruther, Mab. Glad to say he thinks he’ll do.”
“Oh, really, really?” cried Mabel, clasping her hands, and looking at the surgeon with eyes suddenly overflowing with tears.
“Well, he’ll never be much of a beauty again,” was the gruff reply.
“Oh, what does that signify? His mind—will that be all right?”
“I hope so—if he can be kept from any more shocks. That shell to-day seems to have been a kill or cure business—I shouldn’t recommend any more of the same sort. You were there at the time—stuck to him—eh? Very plucky thing to do. Well, you just let him alone now. Don’t try to excite his feelings, or make him recognise you. Give the brain time to recover itself.”
“But you are sure it will be all right? Oh, I can’t thank you properly for telling me this—but he will get quite well?”
“Very ungrateful if he doesn’t, with such a nurse. Don’t go and wear yourself to a shadow looking after him while he’s insensible. You’ll need all your cheerfulness and good spirits when he recovers consciousness.”
Mabel looked dumbly at Dr Tighe. What did this warning portend? The little man answered her mute appeal with friendly alacrity.
“At the best he’ll be rather badly scarred, Miss North, but we hope and trust there’ll be nothing else the matter. Colonel Slaney doesn’t mean to imply that you would mind the scars, or that the poor fellow would care about them for his own sake, but it’s likely he will for yours.”
“I see. Thank you for telling me. I shall know what to do now,” said Mabel, quite calmly, though the screen trembled where her fingers were gripping it.
“Buck up, Queen Mab!” said Dick kindly, lingering behind the other two to give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Never say die!”
She caught his hand and wrung it, reading in his action an apology for his hasty speech of the night before, and he smiled at her cheerily as she disappeared behind the screen. Fitz was still lying in the state of stupor in which she had left him, and she sat down beside the bed, and tried to lay her plans for the future. As she recalled what Colonel Slaney had said, it was natural that the man himself should recur to her mind.
“Why, we must be relieved!” she said to herself. “How stupid of me never to have thought of it. Colonel Slaney belongs to the column, of course. And Dick has come back safe, too. And I took it all for granted, and nobody said anything. Where can Georgie be—and Flora?”
Wondering again at the calm way in which the three men had ignored the almost incredible fact of the ending of the siege, she tried to recall her conversation with them, in order to see whether any allusion had been made to it, and suddenly remembered what had struck her vaguely at the time, the stranger’s manner. He had not addressed her in the way in which long experience had prepared her to be addressed; in fact, she missed the peculiar deference to which she was accustomed from the other sex.
“He spoke to me just as if I was any other woman!” she said to herself, with a naïveté which would have struck her as laughable in any one else. “He was kind and encouraging—patronising, almost. Do I look very dreadful, I wonder?” She cast a puzzled glance at her limp cotton gown. “Still, even then, it’s not usually my clothes that people think about. How Dick would laugh! He’ll say that the celebrated smile failed of its effect for once.”
Presently an unexpected solution of the mystery occurred to her.
“Perhaps I’m getting old and ugly, and people won’t care to talk to me any more. How dreadful to have to ask men to do things, instead of their rushing to do them of their own accord! It will take a long time to get accustomed to it. Oh, and perhaps Fitz won’t care for me now! If he leaves off loving me just as I have found out that I love him, what shall I do? I told Georgie once that I would give anything to care for any one as she cared for Dick, but I never thought of not being loved in return. There was some fairy tale about a princess who had no heart, and could not get one without giving everything she had in exchange for it, and that’s how I feel. But how dreadful to get the heart, and then find that it’s not wanted! If he cares for me still, I don’t mind if I never speak to another man again, but if he doesn’t——!”
There was a step outside, and Flora looked cautiously round the corner of the screen, then advanced, bearing a tray.
“Oh, Mab, you must have thought we had forgotten you, you poor thing!” she murmured, in subdued tones. “But you were fast asleep when I looked into your room, and we thought it would be kinder not to wake you. We were all in the mess-room verandah to welcome General Cranstoun and the officers of the column. It was lovely to see them come in; I did wish you were there. And they are all so kind, you can’t think! As soon as ever they heard what we were reduced to, they sent their servants for all sorts of private stores, and gave us everything they could think of that we should like. Look! here’s a cup of tea—strong tea—for you, with milk in it, and I have made you some sandwiches of potted meat. Isn’t it good of them? And they say such nice things about the way we have stood the siege, and they are so interested in the boy, and they admire your brother and Mrs North so much. It’s delightful to hear them.”
“But what has happened to the enemy?” asked Mabel.
“Oh, most of them have surrendered, but Bahram Khan and a body of horse escaped, and got safely to Dera Gul. Major North just succeeded in saving the Amir, and he’s in the fort now. Part of the column has gone on to keep an eye on Dera Gul, but the rest will camp here for to-night. Some of the officers are coming in after dinner—doesn’t it sound funny to say that again? You will come and talk to them, won’t you?”
“I’ll just come and see them—it would seem rude not to go near them after all they have done for us—but I can’t leave him for long. Flora!” suddenly, “do you see anything different in me?”
“You are dreadfully pale and tired, and your dress looks as if you had put it on in a hurry, and your hair isn’t very nicely done,” said Flora hesitatingly. “Is that what you mean?”
“No—not quite. If—if you were a man, should you still think of me as Queen Mab?”
Flora hesitated still, then suddenly flew at Mabel, and kissed her with great vehemence. “What does it signify?” she demanded. “I shall love you just as well, and so will he, and lots of people will love you a great deal more. You’re just as lovely, really, as ever you were.”
“Then there is something,” cried Mabel. “What is it?”
“I—I don’t know, exactly. It’s something gone. I have noticed it going, since—I think since Mr Anstruther came back from looking for your brother. It was a sort of assurance—I can’t think of the proper word—as if you knew that every one admired you, and you had a right to their services. Yes, that was it. It took every one captive, you know, Mab.”
“And now?” asked Mabel, in a low voice.
“Now? Oh, it makes me miserable to see you. You look as if you wanted people to be kind to you, poor darling.”
“Only one person,” whispered Mabel. “Do you think he will?”
“As if you doubted him! Fraud! If he isn’t, I’ll give Fred up, and come and live with you in a hermitage. There!”
“Then I don’t mind. I have lost my kingdom, and found a heart.”