Works of Robert W Chambers

by Robert W. Chambers

  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 suf
focating 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!”

  “W-what?” asked Ailsa.

  “The right kind of devil, ma’am. I’ve been to see him! He wanted my sword; he tried to chew off my shoulder straps; he almost impaled himself on my spurs. By heaven, ma’am, that’s a boy for you!”

  Ailsa smiled. She knew about babies; implanted in her had always been a perfect madness to possess one.

  She and the red-faced Major talked babies. Letty, knowing nothing about babies and not deeply interested, lay back in her seat, watching Ailsa in the dim light of the ceiling lamps. She seemed never to have enough of Ailsa. It had been so from the first.

  In Baltimore dawn was breaking when Ailsa awoke at the summons of the major; and he remained devoted to the two nurses of Sainte Ursula, attending to their baggage and transfer across the city, finding seats in the waiting-room already invaded by the officers of several regiments in transit, and finally saw them safely aboard the cars again.

  “Good-bye, little ladies,” he said cheerily. “If I’m hit, God send one of you to wash my face for me. My card, ladies — if I may be permitted the honour. I’m to be at Fortress Monroe as soon as my command leaves Baltimore.”

  After he had gone away, Ailsa looked at his card:

  A. J. DENISLOW MAJOR, ART., U. S. A.

  “I thought he was a regular,” she said, smiling at Letty. “He’s a perfect old dear. Shall we open the parcel and see what he has left us for breakfast?”

  There was more milk, more peaches and pears, more bread and butter, and a cold roast chicken; and they made very merry over it, doing the best they could without knife and fork.

  They were nearing Washington now. Every little while they passed bodies of troops marching or encamped along the roads; and once they saw a line of army waggons, drab coloured, with yellow canvas tops, moving slowly in clouds of dust.

  In the limpid morning light buzzards were already soaring over the green fields; the fresh odour of wild flowers came blowing in at the open car window; butterflies fluttered, wind-driven, helpless.

  And now they were passing mounds of freshly turned red earth — long stretches of hillocks banked high and squared at the ends. Hundreds of negroes were at work sodding them; here and there a flag fluttered and a bayonet gleamed.

  “I believe all these little hills and ditches have something to do with forts,” said Ailsa. “Certainly that great mound must be part of a fort. Do you see the cannon?”

  Letty nodded, wide-eyed. And now they were passing soldiers on every road, at every bridge, along every creek bank.

  Squads of them, muskets shining, marched briskly along beside the railroad track; sentinels stood at every culvert, every flag house, every water tank and local station past which they rolled without stopping. Acres of white tents flashed into view; houses and negro cabins became thicker; brick houses, too, appeared at intervals, then half-finished blocks fronting the dusty roads, then rows and lines of dwellings, and street after street swarming with negroes and whites. And before they realised it they had arrived.

  They descended from the car amid a pandemonium of porters, hackmen, soldiers, newsboys, distracted fellow-passengers, locomotives noisily blowing off steam, baggagemen trundling and slamming trunks about; and stood irresolute and confused.

  “Could you direct us to the offices of the Sanitary Commission?” asked Ailsa of a passing soldier wearing the insignia of the hospital service on his sleeve.

  “You bet I can, ladies! Are you nurses?”

  “Yes,” said Ailsa, smiling.

  “Bully for you,” said the boy; “step right this way, Sanitary. One moment — —”

  He planted himself before a bawling negro hack driver and began to apply injurious observations to him, followed by terrible threats if he didn’t take these “Sanitary Ladies” to the headquarters of the Commission.

  “I’m going up that way, too,” he ended, “and I’m going to sit on the box with you, and I’ll punch your nose off if you charge my Sanitary Ladies more than fifty cents!”

  And escorted in this amazing manner, cinder-smeared, hot, rumpled, and very tired, Ailsa Paige and Letty Lynden entered the unspeakably dirty streets of the Capital of their country and turned into the magnificent squalor of Pennsylvania Avenue which lay, flanked by ignoble architecture, straight and wide and hazy under its drifting golden dust from the great unfinished dome of the Capitol to the Corinthian colonnade of the Treasury. Their negro drove slowly; their self-constituted escort, legs crossed, cap over one impish eye, lolled on the box, enjoying the drive.

  Past them sped a company of cavalry in blue and yellow, bouncing considerably in their saddles, red faces very dusty under their tightly strapped caps, sabres and canteens jangling like an unexpected avalanche of tin-ware in a demoralised pantry.

  “Go it, young ‘uns!” cried their soldier escort from the box, waving his hand patronisingly. He also saluted an officer in spectacles as “Bully boy with a glass eye,” and later informed another officer in a broad yellow sash that he was “the cheese.” All of which painfully mortified the two young nurses of Sainte Ursula, especially when passing the fashionably-dressed throng gathered in front of the Willard and promenading Lafayette Square.

  “Oh, dear,” said Ailsa, “I suppose he’s only a boy, but I didn’t know soldiers were permitted to be so impudent. What on earth do all these people think of us?”

  Letty, who had been mischievously amused and inclined to enjoy it, looked very grave as the boy, after a particularly outrageous jibe at a highly respectable old gentleman, turned and deliberately winked at his “Sanitary Ladies.”

  “That’s old hoss
Cameron,” he said. “I made such a mug at the old terrapin that he’ll never be able to recognise my face.”

  “The — the Secretary of War!” gasped Ailsa.

  “You very wicked little boy, don’t you dare to make another face at anybody! — or I’ll — I’ll report your conduct to — to the Sanitary Commission!”

  “Oh, come!” he said blankly, “don’t do that, lady! They’ll raise hell with me, if you do. I want to get hunky with the Sanitary boss.”

  “Then behave yourself!” said Ailsa, furious; “and don’t you dare to swear again. Do you hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am — I will — I won’t, I mean. And if I see that old mudsill, Simon Cameron, I’ll take off my cap to him, b’gosh!”

  It was an anxious and subdued soldier who showed them the door of the Commission’s office, and stood at attention, saluting carefully as the ladies passed him.

  “You won’t peach, will you?” he whispered loudly, as Ailsa stopped to pay the driver.

  “No, I won’t — this time,” she said, smiling, “if you promise to be a very good soldier hereafter.”

  He promised fervidly. He happened to be on duty at headquarters, and the fear of the Commission had been driven into him deep. So she and Letty entered the door with a stream of people who evidently had business with the officials of the American Sanitary Commission; and a very amiable young man received them in their turn, took their papers, examined their credentials, nodded smilingly, and directed them to a small boarding-house on F Street, where, he explained, they had better remain until further orders.

  There had been some desultory fighting in Virginia, he said, also there were a great many sick soldiers in the army.

  Perhaps, added the young man, they would be sent to one of the city hospitals, but the chances were that they would be ordered directly to a field hospital. In that case their transportation would be by army waggon or ambulance, or the Commission might send one of its own mule-drawn conveyances. At any rate, they had better rest and not worry, because as long as the Commission had sent for them, the Commission certainly needed them, and would see that they arrived safely at their destination.