The White Shield

by Myrtle Reed

  Her Volunteer

  The flags fluttered listlessly in the warm spring air, and the littlegroup on Jean Perry's piazza was scarcely more energetic. There wasa martial significance in the atmosphere, for the heavy tread ofbattalions reverberated in the hearts of those who had seen one war,and came forth with sudden force to those who were about to livethrough it for the first time. Yet, the few who lounged in hammocksspoke in depreciation.

  "The regular army is enough," said one; "that's what those fellowsare for. As for me, I'm not anxious to be shot at. I would rather beexcused."

  Two or three of the others agreed, but Jack Terrence was watchingJean with grave trouble in his face. At the first sneering commenther eyes had flashed and then filled; now her breast was heaving withexcitement, and her sensitive mouth was quivering.

  A passing breeze stirred the scarlet veined folds of the flag aboveher, and for a moment it seemed to wave in proud defiance. But even asthe century of its glorious history came back to her, one of the menlooking at it reminiscently, was moved to languid speech.

  "Funny thing, that rag up there--I suppose it really means a great dealto some people!"

  "Do you honestly think so?" Jean's voice carried a note of fearfulscorn. "I am proud to say that I am one of the people to whom it meanssomething--more than your little mind can comprehend. If I could diefighting for it, and have it wrapped round me at the last, it would beglory enough for one small life, but I'm only a miserable woman, and Ihave to stay at home. Why ar'n't you in the ranks, fighting like a man?What do you think would become of your country if all the men were likeyou?" She ended convincingly.

  The astonished individual whom she addressed made the earliest exitcompatible with his dignity. The girls followed by twos and threes,and at last the time came to which Terrence had looked forward for anhour--a solitary moment with Jean.

  "Let's go down to the river," he said, after waiting for her to speak.He took possession of her in the calm, masterful way that rests andsoothes a nervous woman, and as his ring on her finger gave him theright to do. He found her hat and put it on her unresisting headwithout jabbing her with the pins, for which, even in her excitement,she was dimly grateful.

  "You're such a comfort, Jack," she sighed restfully, as they strolledin the afternoon sunshine to the bank of the little noisy stream, thatby courtesy was called a river.

  "I get tired and fretted, and when you come it's just like putting on apair of old shoes after you've been wearing new ones."

  Terrence laughed. He was used to Jean's queer similes, and loved herall the more for her unexpectedness.

  "You take things too seriously, dear, but just the same I was veryproud of you this afternoon. You scattered the enemy's forces neatly."He laughed again, but this time there was no mirth in his face. "I wasglad, too, Jean, because it makes it easier to speak of something I'vebeen thinking about for the last two weeks."

  For an instant her heart stood still. She did not need to be told whathad made him unlike his sunny self for the past few days. He turnedhis face away that he might not see the trouble in hers. She began tounderstand.

  After a little he spoke again. "Dear little woman," he said softly, "itall rests with you. It is for you to decide--not me. If you feel thatmy first duty is to you, you have only to say the word; if you feelthat, dearly as I love you, there is something beyond that, you--youneed not speak at all."

  They were sitting on the bank of the stream now, and the late afternoonlight was playing upon its rippling surface, while a glory of crimsonand gold touched each rock and tree.

  Half-way up the hill beyond, was a tiny two-story house in process ofconstruction. On the crest, where the sun might shine on it longest,the flag seemed beckoning to them both. They felt its meaning.

  "Jean," said Jack again, and his lips trembled as they said the littlename, "is the roof of our home coming between us and our flag?"

  "If it did," she answered slowly, "it could only be a house--not ahome."

  In those few moments she had fought a gallant battle with herself. Shewas white now, but there was new strength in her voice.

  "Brave heart," said Terrence tenderly, "I knew what you would say!"

  Then he went on to tell her of the regiment that was forming, and inwhich he had been offered a position in the line of promotion.

  Something of the old fire came into her eyes. "Never mind position orpromotion. Put on the private's uniform and fight in the ranks and beglad you've got the health and the strength and the right to do it.Though," she added, as an afterthought, "I'd try to be reconciled toit, even if you were a major-general." She smiled slyly.

  There was no one to see him put his arm around her in the twilight anddraw her close. The soft melody of the little stream, as it hurriednoisily away, and the drowsy chirp of the birds came dreamily into thesummer stillness. Up on the hill, like a parting benediction, a softsunset glow trembled and shone around the flag.

  "My sweetheart," he said, "I want to tell you something for you toremember for all time." A lump came into his throat, but he choked itdown and went on. "It sounds like a joke in a comic paper for me to sayyou're the only woman I ever loved; but it's true, and you know it is,and it's the kind of love that couldn't die with the body of either ofus, don't you know that, dear?"

  A sob from Jean made him draw her closer still. "So I want to tell younow that, whatever happens, that will always be the same--nothing canever change that. I want you to remember that. I haven't half deservedthe love you've given me, but it's the sweetest thing God ever let aman dream of, and it's made me a better man, Jean, and there won't bea moment while I'm away that I won't see your dear face, because I'mfighting for you as well as for my dear country--to be the man you wantme to be, and to make you proud of your volunteer."

  The succeeding days were all confusion and preparation. To Terrence,they were days of drill, recruiting and unaccustomed labour; to Jeanthey were days of heartache, mingled with a strange pride that wasneither wholly happiness nor wholly pain.

  The day came at last when the regiment was ordered forward, and thewhole town turned out to give its boys a rousing farewell. The loveof fight, mingled with the stern discipline and cool courage of theAnglo-Saxon, was in the face of every man in the regiment.

  Jean never forgot the spectacle as they formed in marching ranks. Inspite of the pain at her heart, she was unreasonably proud at the sightof Jack in his new uniform--not that of a private, as she had wishedhim to go, but as first lieutenant, looking very handsome.

  The long column swung into line. Quick and short came the word ofcommand. Her eyes were upon her volunteer, and across the crowd ofwaiting thousands, he saw only her--cheeks crimson with pride, eyessweet with love, and lips that trembled and tried to be brave in spiteof all.

  "Forward, march!" It was the summons to the glory and the agony ofbattle for those who kept time with the music. It was the summons toas brave a faith to those who remained behind.

  After the first shock was over, Jean became almost happy. Jack wroteletters full of hope and good spirits. Every amusing thing thathappened in camp, he stored away to write to Jean. He even had a littlenote-book in which to jot down, from time to time, things which wouldinterest her. This was a never failing source of pleasure to his mates,and he was enthusiastically "guyed" by every man in the company. Ofcourse he told her this, and, womanlike, Jean was much pleased.

  Boxes of home delicacies sent to Jack filled the entire company witha beautiful admiration for "Terrence's girl." Magazines, papers andletters almost flooded the mails.

  "Poor Terrence is getting pale," said one of them at mess.

  "Separation," suggested the corporal.

  "Naw," rejoined the other. "It's carryin' his mail from the post-officeto his tent. That's what's wearin' on him."

  Like a happy lover, Terrence took the jokes cheerfully. The routine ofcamp life made some of the men complain bitterly, but he said never aword. It was for his country--and Jean.

  Aft
er two months of waiting, the regiment was ordered to the frontand the old confusion began again. The night in camp was a memorableone. Already the star-spangled flag had been planted in new places,and the thirst for conquest, which is perhaps, more Anglo-Saxon thanexclusively British, was upon every man in the army.

  There is no need to write of the gallant charge at Santiago; no needto speak of the steadfast courage of those who faced three times theirnumber in the narrow pass; no need to say that every lad in UncleSam's uniform proved himself to be the stuff of which Republics arebuilt--for the world knows it all. Whatever criticism the strategistsof the future, sitting in comfortable chairs, may make, as to tacticsand military skill, the valour of the American army has been provedanew.

  Up the burning, blazing heights, Lieutenant Terrence rushed with hismen, stopping not for strange pitfalls and unknown dangers, facingvolley after volley of explosive bullets, heeding not those who fellby the way, as long as through the smoke of battle, dimly lit by flashand flame, the flag called--"Follow!"

  The orders had been brief: "Take the blockhouse on the height bystorm." And the charge began with a cheer. But only twenty-twoof the seventy-five men reached the summit, and after a fiercehand-to-hand conflict, dislodged the superior force. The rest layupon the hillside,--some past help, and all exposed to the fire of anunchivalrous foe.

  Lieutenant Terrence was among those reported "missing." The corporalspent the night in the underbrush with a lantern, but to no avail.

  "Don't be so cut up, Johnny," said a messmate, "you can't do him nogood."

  "Maybe he fell off the side," replied the corporal, after a longsilence, "and, anyway, it's his girl I'm thinking of. I'm going to findhim for her."

  Over the wire from headquarters came the list of killed, wounded andmissing. Jean grasped the morning paper eagerly and then grew white"Missing! Missing!"

  A dull dead weight settled down upon her like a suffocating pall. Withsudden meaning, what he had said came back to her: "It's you I'mfighting for as well as for my country--to be the man you want me tobe, and to make you proud of your volunteer."

  The strained nerves and tortured heart could bear no more, and she wasmercifully unconscious when they found her lying with the paper in herhands.

  There were hushed whispers in the house for days to come, and the wireswere kept busy with eager questionings. The old family physician wasfighting an unequal battle with death for Jean had no desire to live.

  After a week, a telegram came for Jean. It was the old doctor whoopened it with trembling hands, dreading to give her the message heknew it must contain. After the first eager glance, his face changedmysteriously, and then became transfigured with a radiant smile as heread:

  "Wounded, but not seriously. Home on _Olivette_. Terrence."

  The little blind god has a healing power quite beyond prosaic beliefand in a very short time Jean was able to go out and once more thesound of building came from the hillside. All through the days thatfollowed she listened to it with joy. Every ring of metal or shout ofcommand was a distinct pleasure.

  It was evening when Terrence reached the town unannounced andunheralded with his right arm in a sling. Those on the piazza merelyknew that some one had entered the gate, but a white-robed figure flewdown the steps with a cry of gladness that sent the family into thehouse.

  Human hearts did not need to be told that a bronzed and bearded soldierwas holding his sweetheart close, and that a woman was sobbing out morehappiness than one heart could hold, on the shoulder of her volunteer.

  In Reflected Glory