Ailsa Paige Part 40

He waited a moment, then said coolly: "If you actually have any interest in what I'm doing-" and broke off with a shrug. At which she raised her eyes, waiting for him to go on.

"I went into an unattached company-The Westchester Horse-and some fool promised us incorporation with the 1st Cavalry and quick service. But the 1st filled up without us and went off. And a week ago we were sent off from White Plains Camp as K Company to"-he bit his lip and stared at her-"to-your friend Colonel Arran's regiment of lancers. We took the oath. Our captain, Hallam, selected me for his escort to-night. That is the simple solution of my being here. I didn't sneak down here to annoy you. I didn't know you were here."

After a moment she raised her pallid face.

"Have you seen Colonel Arran?"

"No," he said shortly.

"I-it would give me-pleasure-to recommend you to his-attention.

May I write--"

"Thank you, no."

There was another painful interval of silence. Then:

"May I speak to Captain Hallam about you?"

"No, thank you!" he said contemptuously, "I am currying no favours."

Hurt, she shrank away, and the blood mounted to her temples.

"You see," he said, "I'm just a plain brute, and there's no use being kind to me." He added in a lower voice, but deliberately: "You once found out that."

She quivered and straightened up.

"Yes," she said, "I found that out. I have paid very dearly for my-my-" But she could not continue.

Watching her, cap hanging in his gauntleted hand, he saw the colour deepen and deepen in neck and cheek, saw her eyes falter, and turn from him.

"Is there any forgiveness for me?" he said. "I didn't ask it before-because I've still some sense of the ludicrous left in me-or did have. It's probably gone now, since I've asked if it is in you to pardon-" He shrugged again, deeming it useless; and she made no sign of comprehension.

For a while he stood, looking down at his cap, turning it over and over, thoughtfully.

"Well, then, Ailsa, you are very kind to offer what you did offer. But-I don't like Colonel Arran," he added with a sneer, "and I haven't any overwhelming admiration for Captain Hallam. And there you are, with your kindness and gentleness and-everything-utterly wasted on a dull, sordid brute who had already insulted you once... . Shall I leave your kitchen?"

"No," she said faintly. "I am going."

He offered to open the door for her, but she opened it herself, stood motionless, turned, considered him, head high and eyes steady;

"You have killed in me, this night-this Christmas night-something that can never again l-live in me. Remember that in the years to come."

"I'm sorry," he said. "That's the second murder I've attempted.

The other was your soul."

Her eyes flashed.

"Even murderers show some remorse-some regret--"

"I do regret," he said deliberately, "that I didn't kill it... .

You would have loved me then."

She turned white as death, then, walking slowly up in front of him:

"You lie!" she said in even tones.

Confronted, never stirring, their eyes met; and in the cold, concentrated fury which possessed her she set her small teeth and stared at him, rigid, menacing, terrible in her outraged pride.

After a while he stirred; a quiver twitched his set features.

"Nevertheless-" he said, partly to himself. Then, drawing a long breath, he turned, unhooked his sabre from a nail where it hung, buckled his belt, picked up the lance which stood slanting across a chair, shook out the scarlet, swallow-tailed pennon, and walked slowly toward the door-and met Letty coming in.

"Mrs. Paige," she said, "we couldn't imagine what had become of you-" and glancing inquiringly at Berkley, started, and uttered a curious little cry:

"You!"

"Yes," he said, smiling through his own astonishment.

"Oh!" she cried with a happy catch in her voice, and held out both hands to him; and he laid aside his lance and took them, laughing down into the velvet eyes. And he saw the gray garb of Sainte Ursula that she wore, saw the scarlet heart on her breast, and laughed again-a kindly, generous, warm-hearted laugh; but there was a little harmless malice glimmering in his eyes.

"Wonderful-wonderful, Miss Lynden"-he had never before called her Miss Lynden-"I am humbly overcome in the presence of Holy Sainte Ursula embodied in you. How on earth did old Benton ever permit you to escape? He wrote me most enthusiastically about you before I-ahem-left town."

"Why didn't you let me know where you were going?" asked Letty with a reproachful simplicity that concentrated Ailsa's amazed attention on her, for she had been looking scornfully at Berkley.

"Why-you are very kind, Miss Lynden, but I, myself, didn't know where I was going."

"I-I wanted to write you," began Letty; and suddenly remembered Ailsa's presence and turned, shyly: "Mrs. Paige," she said, "this private soldier is Mr. Berkley-a gentleman. May I be permitted to present him to you?"

And there, while the tragic and comic masks grinned side by side, and the sky and earth seemed unsteadily grinning above and under her feet, Ailsa Paige suffered the mockery of the presentation; felt the terrible irony of it piercing her; felt body and senses swaying there in the candle-light; heard Letty's happy voice and Berkley's undisturbed replies; found courage to speak, to take her leave; made her way back through a dreadful thickening darkness to her room, to her bed, and lay there silent, because she could not weep.

CHAPTER XII

In February the birds sang between flurries of snow; but the end of the month was warm and lovely, and robins, bluebirds, and cardinals burst into a torrent of song. The maples' dainty fire illumined every swamp; the green thorn turned greener; and the live-oaks sprouted new leaves amid their olive-tinted winter foliage, ever green.

Magnolia and laurel grew richer and glossier; azaleas were budding; dog-wood twigs swelled; and somewhere, in some sheltered hollow, a spray of jasmine must have been in bloom, because the faint and exquisite scent haunted all the woodlands.

On the 17th the entire army was paraded by regiments to cheer for the fall of Fort Donnelson.

About mid-February the Allotment Commission began its splendid work in camp; and it seemed to Ailsa that the mental relief it brought to her patients was better than any other medicine-that is, better for the Union patients; for now there were, also, in the wards, a number of Confederate wounded, taken at various times during the skirmis.h.i.+ng around Fairfax-quiet, silent, dignified Virginians, and a few fiery Louisianians, who at first, not knowing what to expect, scarcely responded to the brusque kindness of the hospital attendants.

The first Confederate prisoner that Ailsa ever saw was brought in on a stretcher, a quiet, elderly man in b.l.o.o.d.y gray uniform, wearing the stripes of a sergeant.

Prisoners came more often after that. Ailsa, in her letters to Celia Craig, had mentioned the presence of Confederate wounded at the Farm Hospital; and, to her delight and amazement, one day late in February a Commission ambulance drove up, and out stepped Celia Craig; and the next instant they were locked tightly in each other's arms,

"Darling-darling!" sobbed Ailsa, clinging desperately to Celia, "it is heavenly of you to come. I was so lonely, so tired and discouraged. You won't go away soon, will you? I couldn't bear it-I want you so-I need you--"

"Hush, Honey-bud! I reckon I'll stay a while. I've been a week with Curt's regiment at Fortress Monroe. I had my husband to myse'f fo' days, befo' they sent him to Acquia Creek. And I've had my boy a whole week all to myse'f! Then his regiment went away. They wouldn't tell me where.' But G.o.d is kinder... . You are certainly ve'y pale, Honey-bee!"

"I'm well, dearest-really I am, I'll stay well now. Is Curt all right? And Stephen? And Paige and Marye?-and Camilla?"

"Everybody is well, dear. Curt is ve'y brown and thin-the dear fellow! And Steve is right handsome. I'm just afraid some pretty minx-" She laughed and added: "But I won't care if she's a rebel minx."