in the meantime nona was on duty in the convalescent ward. it was the work that she had been able to attend to with peculiar success ever since her arrival at the base hospital. this was a duty which many of the red cross nurses liked the least. for the convalescent soldiers were often like spoiled and nervous children. it was amazing how many drinks of water they required, how frequently their pillows had to be turned, how often letters from home had to be read and re-read until the nurses knew them by heart as well as the patients.
it was a dark, cloudy afternoon when nona entered the big room and before she had more than crossed the threshold she became aware of an atmosphere of gloom and ill-temper.
daisy redmond, the english girl with whom they had crossed the channel, had[180] been in attendance on the ward before nona’s appearance and she seemed bored and annoyed. she was a very good nurse for an ill person, but too serious and reserved to cheer the convalescent, and on nona’s entrance she gave a sigh of relief.
the room, which was used for the soldiers who were on the high road to recovery from whatever disaster they had suffered, must have been the refectory or the old dining hall of the convent in the days before the franco-prussian war. it was an oblong room with a high ceiling crossed by great oak beams. midway up the walls were of dark oak and the rest of stone. the floor was of stone and the windows high and crossed with small iron bars. while they let in the air and sunlight, it was impossible to see much of the outside world unless one climbed a ladder or chair. evidently it had been thought best not to permit the little french convent maids to seek for distractions even among the flowers and trees.
so the great room, in spite of its perfect cleanliness, had little suggestion of gayety or[181] beauty to recommend it at present. the floor, walls, beds, everything apparently had been scrubbed to the limit of perfection and were smelling of antiseptics. but there was not a flower in the room, not a picture, only two long rows of beds each containing a weary, impatient soldier, longing to be home with his own people or back at the front with the other tommies.
almost anyone might have become discouraged with the prospect of two hours’ effort in such surroundings, but nona never dreamed of flinching.
as she went up toward the first bed, the young fellow with his right arm in a sling who was trying to write with his left hand, used a short word of three letters. he was a boy who worked in a butcher’s shop in london. when he saw nona so near him, he blushed crimson and stammered an apology.
nona only laughed. “oh, i say that myself sometimes, inside of me,” she whispered. “if it hurts your arm, do let me finish your letter. i’d like to add a line or two anyhow just to let addie know you are[182] really getting well and not trying to encourage her with false hopes.”
the young fellow smiled. it was clever of the little american girl to remember his girl’s name. he was glad enough to have her end his letter so that he might lie down again. besides, he liked to have her sitting near him, she was so pretty—the prettiest nurse in the hospital in his opinion. five minutes after when nona had finished his letter and made him comfortable, he sighed to have her leave him. she was only going to another duffer a few beds away, who had been trying to read and dropped all his magazines on the floor. with one of his legs in a plaster cast, he had almost broken his neck trying to fish for them.
so nona wandered up and down the ward doing whatever was asked of her. she felt that she was being useful in spite of her lack of long experience in nursing. but it was amusing the queer things she was called upon to do.
she was passing one of the cots where a boy lay who had received a wound in his head. he was not more than seventeen[183] or eighteen, and was a blue-eyed, fair-haired boy with a mouth like a young girl’s. you would never have dreamed of him as a fighter; indeed, he had left eton to join the army and had never before known a real hardship in his life. but now a pair of wasted white hands clasped nona’s skirt.
looking down she discovered that the bandage had slipped off his forehead and that his eyes were full of tears.
nona’s own eyes were dim as she bent toward him.
“are you suffering again?” she asked gently. “i am so sorry; i thought you were almost well.”
“it isn’t that,” the boy whispered. “i wouldn’t mind the pain; it’s only—oh, i might as well say it, i want my mother. funny to behave like a cry-baby. i wish i could sleep. i wonder if you could sing to me?”
at first nona shook her head. “why i can’t sing, really,” she returned. “i have never had a music lesson in my life. i only know two or three songs that i used to sing to my father way down in south[184] carolina. i expect you hardly know there is such a place.”
then suddenly the boy’s disappointed face made the girl hesitate.
she glanced about them. in the bed next to the boy’s the man she and barbara had rescued from the aeroplane disaster lay apparently too deeply absorbed in a bundle of newspapers to pay the least attention to them.
by this time he had almost recovered and was enormously impatient to return to his regiment. it appeared that he was not a regular member of the aviation corps, but a colonel in command of one of the crack line regiments. however, he happened also to be a skilled aviator and on the morning of the accident, having a leave of absence from his command, had gone up to reconnoiter over the enemy’s lines.
no, colonel dalton would pay no attention to her, nona felt convinced. he was very quiet and stern and a distinguished soldier, so that most of the nurses were afraid of him.
“if you’ll try to sleep, why i’ll sing[185] softly just to you, so we need not disturb any one else,” nona murmured, kneeling down by the side of the boy’s cot so that her face was not far from his. “i only know some old darkey songs.”
straightway the young english boy closed his eyes. very quietly in a hushed voice nona began to sing, believing no one else would listen.
she chanced to be kneeling just under one of the tall windows and the afternoon sun shone down upon her white cap, her pale gold hair and delicate face. if she had known it she was not unlike a little nun, but fortunately nona had no thought of herself.
she had only a small voice, but it was sweet and clear.
“all this world am sad and dreary,
everywhere i roam,
oh, darkies, how my heart grows weary,
far from the old folks at home.”
not one, but half a dozen soldiers lay quiet listening to nona’s song. she was only aware that the boy for whom she was singing was breathing more evenly as she[186] sang on and that there was a happier curve to his lips. in a few moments more, if nothing occurred to disturb him, he must be asleep.
so nona did not know that colonel dalton, although holding his beloved london newspaper before his face, had been watching her and that her old-fashioned song had touched him.
she was slipping away with her patient finally asleep when he motioned to her.
“it is a wonderful thing you are doing, miss davis,” he began in a low tone, so as not to disturb the sleeper, “you a young american girl to come over here to help care for our british boys. i want to shake hands with you if i may, you and that clever little friend of yours, who helped me out of my difficulty. i shall be away from the hospital in a few days and back at my post, as i’ve almost entirely recovered from the effects of the chlorine gas. but later on if i can ever be of service to you in any way, you are to count upon me. i trust that at some future day the english nation can show its appreciation for what[187] the united states has done for us in this tragic war.”
colonel dalton spoke with so much feeling and dignity that nona was both pleased and embarrassed. of course, she seemed like a young girl to him, and yet after all colonel dalton could be only a little over thirty. it must be something in his character or in his history that gave his face the expression of sadness and sternness. although his duties as an officer in the war might already have created the look.
“you are very good,” she murmured confusedly. she was moving away when she noticed that colonel dalton was staring fixedly, not at her, but at a brooch which she wore fastening her nurse’s apron to her dress.
but probably he was in a reverie and not seeing anything at all!
however, nona did not have to remain long in doubt. colonel dalton spoke abruptly.
“that’s an extraordinary pin you’ve got there, a collection of letters isn’t it? i[188] wonder if by any chance it represents the motto of your own family?”
nona shook her head and carelessly unclasped the pin. “no,” she answered, “and i have scarcely been able to find out what the letters spell. i wonder if you could tell me.”
the man scarcely glanced at the pin. “the letters are ‘vinces,’ the latin for ‘conquer.’” then strangely enough colonel dalton flushed, a curious brick-red, which is a peculiarity of many englishmen.
“it’s a remarkable request i wish to make of you, miss davis. but would you mind parting with that little pin? it’s an odd fancy of mine, but then every soldier is superstitious and i should like very much to possess it. possibly because of the meaning of the word, for the word ‘conquer’ never meant more in the history of the world than it does to an englishman today.”
but nona had crimsoned uncomfortably and was clutching at her brooch in a stupid fashion. “i am awfully sorry,” she murmured, “it must seem ungracious of me,[189] but i value the pin very much. you see, it was given me by some one——”
“in this country, or in your own?” colonel dalton interrupted.
again nona hesitated. suddenly she had become conscious of the unread letter in her pocket which she had just received from lady dorian, and of the hour of their parting and her bestowal of the pin.
she smiled. “it wasn’t given me in either your country or mine, but upon the sea.”
then she walked over to another patient who required a drink of water.
