It was anxious work waiting in the hospital while Harold was in the field. But Brenda had not much time for thought. She was nursing the wounded with all her heart and soul, and was an angel of light amongst the weary, wounded soldiers. The doctor called her his right hand, as well he might. She deprived herself of rest and food to be by her patients. Only when compelled to, did she lie down; and then it was in her clothes, ready to be up and doing at the call of duty. Her best qualities came out in this most arduous work.
The grand attack on Spion Kop was to be made at night, in order to effect a surprise. All day long the operations went on in the field. Toward sunset Harold's company had to dislodge a number of Boers who had entrenched themselves on the slope of the mountain. The position was taken and the enemy fell back; but not without considerable loss of life on both sides. Amongst the wounded was Harold, who was shot through the lung. It was dark when the news was brought into the camp, and the ambulance bearers started under a rising moon for this miniature battlefield.
Quite unaware of her husband's mishap, Brenda was busy attending a dying man. But he was beyond her aid, and died within a very short time of his being brought in. She was closing his eyes with a sigh at the horrors of war when one of the doctors told her that she was wanted. With a presentiment of bad news she went out and found Wilfred waiting to speak to her. He was greatly agitated and took her hand as if to give her courage.
"Brenda, I have bad news for you!"
"It is Harold!" she cried, pale to the lips.
"Yes, it is Harold. I have only just heard."
"He is dead?"
"No. I hope not--I don't know but he fell while leading the attack on one of the small kopjes. They are just going out to bring in the wounded. I thought----"
"Yes, I'll come," said Brenda, anticipating his speech. "Is it far?"
"No, not very. Make haste. God grant we may find him alive!"