“I saw her for only a minute after I woke up,” he said, turning on his side with a slight painful effort, to look into Lucy’s face. “But that was long enough to thank her for what she did last year. She told me that she had been allowed to help in the hospital, and that she hoped to see you. How she got here I can’t imagine, nor why they trust her to work among the wounded—though we both know there couldn’t be found a better nurse.”
Lucy was silent, afraid to answer, since she could not tell the truth—that Elizabeth was trusted because the hospital was in the hands of her compatriots. Colonel Gordon did not notice her confusion as he continued earnestly:
“I’m very glad she’s here—however she came—for your sake, Lucy. She is devoted to you, beyond all doubt, and I won’t be quite so uneasy with her here to look after you. Greyson seems almighty slow about getting you off to Calais. I suppose he can’t help it. I can imagine what the state of transportation is, but surely you won’t have to stay much longer. Of course, if it were possible to get right on, your mother and Henry would have been here long ago.”
He paused, breathing a little hard, and frowning, unreconciled, as he silently considered the obstacles to Lucy’s departure.
Lucy sat wretchedly silent, knowing the truth to be a hundred times worse than what already greatly troubled him. In a moment he found breath to speak again.
“Lucy,” he said thoughtfully, “I said I knew Elizabeth was devoted to you, and so she is. But don’t forget for a moment, however kindly we feel toward her, that her country is our enemy. We have good proof that she would not harm Bob, even at Karl’s command, but that is a personal affection with her. It does not mean she would not harm the Allies’ cause. You must be on the watch lest you speak a word that might be repeated to the enemy’s advantage.”
Lucy murmured her agreement as her father, his emphatic tone changing to one of wonder, said again, “Why they allow her to work here I can’t imagine. I must ask Greyson.”
“You’re tired, Father,” said Lucy, getting up after a moment from the floor beside the cot, as Colonel Gordon lay wearily back after his prolonged talk. Her voice shook a little with threatening tears, for it seemed dreadful to her that he should not know the truth, and that she should help to deceive him, though common sense told her it was wise and necessary. He would certainly sleep more peacefully that night thinking the Allies in possession of the town. But it was a deception which could not be kept up much longer.
She bade him good-night with a brave attempt at cheerfulness, and went out into the big ward, which was just dimmed by approaching twilight. Elizabeth was carrying a heavy basket of Red Cross supplies across the hall to the storeroom, and Lucy, without asking permission, ran up to her and seized one of the straw handles, taking half the weight on her own arm. “Go on; I’m going to help,” she said briefly. Elizabeth obeyed, glancing back with troubled solicitude at the serious, determined face of the little girl she knew so well, while Lucy, with that familiar figure before her, bringing swift memories of happy days at home, looked down the rows of wounded men and wondered again if this could all be real.
That night, in spite of the welcome silence of the guns, Lucy’s natural fear and dread at the strange fate that had befallen her brought wakefulness and feverish dreams. But she was too worn out to lie awake long, and Miss Pearse’s footsteps, moving about in the gray dawn, roused her from deep sleep. She struggled at that moment with desperate drowsiness, intensified by the longing to fall back where the bitter truth could be forgotten. But she fought hard against her weakness and, fearful of yielding, sprang out of bed and plunged her face into cold water. Her sleepy eyes blinked stupidly back at her from the shadowy mirror as she vigorously rubbed away the drops, but her resolution was triumphant. To-day she meant to work, that by nightfall she might feel the satisfaction of having done what she could to help—the only thing that was worth doing here.