A Sister of the Red Cross: A Tale of the South African War

by L. T. Meade

Meanwhile things were getting more and more gloomy in Ladysmith. The real privations of the siege had now well begun. Enteric fever and dysentery were steadily increasing, and food for both men and horses was becoming very scarce. Ammunition also would have to be used with care. The suffering amongst those who had no stores of their own to fall back upon was getting more and more serious. Eggs were half a guinea a dozen, potatoes one and six a pound, candles a shilling each. Nothing could be bought in the way of drink except lemonade and soda water, and the question of all questions was, what was to be done with the horses. The difficulty amongst the sick was not so much to carry them through their different crises, but to build up their strength afterwards. All the milk in Ladysmith had long been reserved for use in the hospitals, but even for the sick it was now running out. Those who were ill began to say that convalescence was the hardest time of all—there was nothing fit for them to eat. The question which agitated the nurses and all those who had the ordering of supplies was whether or not the horses should be boiled down for food.

Throughout all, however, Major Strause got steadily better. There came a day when he was well enough to leave the hospital. Mollie herself brought his things, and helped him once more to get into his uniform. He had faithfully kept his word, and since the day when he had kissed her hand, had never, even by a look, shown Mollie that he thought more of her than of any other woman. Nevertheless she had a feeling that he was only biding his time. She was too busy just then to see all she might have seen of Kitty, but whenever she met her little sister, Kitty invariably asked the same question—"Are you engaged yet to Major Strause?" And Mollie invariably replied in the negative; whereupon Kitty sighed and turned her head away.

The events of the last few weeks had affected not only Kitty, but Mollie. Kitty indeed seemed to get thinner and thinner, and her small face more and more white. There was a weary, very weary expression about her eyes. She was exigeante to Captain Keith when he came to see her or she was sullen, and scarcely spoke at all. It was with difficulty she could keep the words back from her lips: "You have never loved me; you love my sister, not me." But hitherto she had refrained from uttering these mad, wild words, and she hoped she would have self-control until the end.

Mollie was also looking pale and fagged. It was not the nursing; it was not the personal privations; it was not the long, weary hours when she knew no sleep, and was indefatigable in looking after the sick and wounded; but it was the trouble of her mind—the knowledge that she did love Gavon Keith, the further assurance deep down in her heart that he loved her, the dread fear that she was, after all, breaking Kitty's heart—the dim outlook in the future. What was she to do? Oh, she could not set things right by doing wrong—she could not do it!

On the day that Major Strause quitted the hospital Gavon Keith went to see Kitty. He had not been with her for two or three days. He had been very much occupied. The sorties against the Boers were more and more frequent; and when in camp he had much to do, for each officer had now to bear his part, if in no other way, in cheering up the soldiers and making the best of things all round. Keith, too, was feeling the effects of the siege. From time to time he had received slight although nasty wounds, and the one on his leg, which Kitty had injured by her application of the too strong lotion, had never quite healed. It gave him incessant pain, and he limped slightly as he came now into the girl's presence. Her heart was in her mouth; all the misery and nervousness of the last few days were reflected in her small, thin face. Keith had come away from a very anxious discussion regarding ways and means with the other officers of his regiment. It had just been decided that the cavalry horses were to be let loose. There was great trouble amongst all the cavalry officers in consequence. Keith, who belonged to an infantry regiment, had not, of course, his own special horse, but he felt the trouble almost as much as the others. When would relief come? When would Buller get any nearer? It was not a moment for a girl's petty jealousy, for a girl's silly fears. The moment he looked at Kitty—Kitty whom he did not really love—and saw the expression on her small face and the discontent round her lips, it seemed to the young officer that this was the last straw.

"Why have you not come in to see me before?" was her first remark.

"You may be thankful that I could come now," was his answer. "I have been too busy. I have not had a single moment to devote to personal matters."

"I am glad you think anything connected with me personal," was her answer, and she went and stood, with her back to him, looking out of the window. A shell burst a few yards away. She started, and glanced nervously at Keith. "Why don't you speak?" said the girl. "It is bad enough to be away for a few days, but then to come and—and to say nothing! And you have not even kissed me!"

He strode up to her, laid a hand on each of her shoulders, drew her towards him, and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"Poor Kitty!" he said, "you are more to be pitied than any other woman in Ladysmith. There are fifteen thousand people in the town all told, and I don't believe there is a woman here more wretched than yourself!"