Jane Cable

  Jane had been a nurse in the Red Cross society for a little morethan six weeks. She was inexperienced but willing and there wassuch urgent need for nurses that the army accepted any and all whoseemed capable of development under the training of experts. Therehad been tremendous opposition on the part of the Harbins, but inthe end, finding her unalterably determined, the colonel permittedher to go out in the service. She was sent forth on the specialexpedition in the wake of Major March's forces, her secret desirebeing to be near Graydon Bansemer in event of his injury. Shegave no heed to their protest that the name of Bansemer should behateful to her; she ignored the ugly remarks of her aunt and theangry reproaches of the colonel. It was more the spirit of spitethan any other motive which at last compelled him to accept thesituation; he even went so far as to growl to his wife: "Cursedgood riddance, that's what I say. I didn't want her to come in thefirst place."

  But when, after a month, she brought Bansemer back to the city,wounded almost to death, the heart, of the soldier was touched. Itwas Colonel Harbin who wrestled with the hospital authorities and,after two or three days, had her installed regularly as a nursefor Bansemer, a concession not willingly granted. Those days werelike years to her. She was thin and worn when she came down fromthe north, but she was haggard with anxiety and despair when thetwo days of suspense were ended.

  Ethel Harbin was her ablest ally. This rather lawless young personlaid aside the hearts with which she was toying and bent her everyendeavour to the cause of romance. It was not long before everyyoung officer in the city was more or less interested in the welfareof Graydon Bansemer. She threw a fine cloak of mystery about the"millionaire's son" and the great devotion of her cousin, The youthof the army followed Ethel to and from the hospital for days anddays; without Ethel it is quite doubtful if anybody could have knownwhat a monstrous important personage Private Bansemer really was.

  At the end of a fortnight he was able to sit up and converse withhis nurse and the occasional Ethel, Dr. G---, chief of the ward,remarked to Colonel Harbin:

  "He'll get well, of course. He can't help it. I never knew beforewhat society could do for a fellow. He's got a society nurse andhe is visited by a society despot. It beats Christian Science allto pieces."

  "Do you think he will be able to do any more fighting? Will he bestrong enough?"

  "I don't see why. The government won't let him do it, that's all.He can claim a pension and get out of service with an honourabledischarge--and maybe a medal. He'll be strong enough, however. Thatfellow could go on a hike inside of a month."

  "I suppose we'll all be going home before long. This war is aboutover," growled Harbin.

  "No sirree! We'll be fighting these fellows for ten years. Ah,there's your daughter, Colonel. Good-day."

  With the first returning strength, freed from lassitude and stupor,Graydon began whispering joyous words of love to Jane. His eyeswere bright with the gladness that his pain had brought. She checkedhis weak outbursts at first, but before many days had passed she wasobliged to resort to a firmness that shocked him into a resentfulsilence. She was even harsh in her command. It cut her to the quickto hurt him, but she was steeling herself against the future.

  When he was able to walk out in the grounds, she withdrew fartherinto the background of their daily life. He hungered for her,but she began to avoid him with a strange aloofness that broughtstarvation to his heart. While she was ever attentive to his wants,her smile lacked the tenderness he had known in the days of danger,and her face was strangely sombre and white.

  "Jane," he said to her one day as he came in from his walk andlaid down his crutches, "this can't go on any longer. What is thematter? Don't you love me--not at all?"

  She stood straight and serious before him, white to the lips, herheart as cold as ice.

  "I love you, Graydon, with all my soul. I shall always love you.Please, please, don't ask any more of me. You understand, don't you?We cannot be as we once were--never. That is ended. But, you--youmust know that I love you."

  "It is sheer madness, dearest, to take that attitude. What else inthe world matters so long as we love one another? I felt at firstthat I could not ask you to be my wife after what my father didthat night. That was as silly of me as this is of you. I did notcontend long against my love. You have never been out of my mind,night or day. I was tempted more than once to desert-but that wasimpossible, you know. It was the terrible eagerness to go back toyou and compel you to be mine. My father did you a grave wrong.He---"

  "But my father did me a graver wrong, Graydon. I have thought itall out. I have no right to be alive, so what right have I to beany man's wife?"

  "Nonsense, dearest. You are alive, and you live for me, as I dofor you. You have saved my life; you must save my love. These lastfew weeks have knit our lives together so completely that neitherof us has the right to change God's evident purpose. I love youfor yourself, Jane. That is enough. There has not been an instantin which I have felt that any circumstance could alter my hope tomarry you. You say; you have no name. You forget that you may havemine, dearest--and it is not much to be proud of, I fear, in thelight of certain things. You must be my wife, Jane."

  "I cannot, Graydon. That is final. Don't! Don't plead, dear. Itwill not avail. Look into my eyes. Don't you see that I mean it,Graydon?"

  "By Heaven, Jane, your eyes are lying to me. You can't mean whatis back of them. It's cruel--it's wrong."

  "Hush! you must not become excited. You are far from strong, andI am still your nurse. Be---"

  "You are my life--you are everything. I can't give you up It'sridiculous to take this stand. Be sensible. Look at it from mypoint of view."

  "There is only one point of view and love has nothing to do withit. Come, let us talk of something else. Have you heard fromyour--your father? Does he know you've been injured?"

  He looked long into her tense face and then muttered, with thesullen despair of the sick: "I don't know. I've had no word fromanyone."

  "The despatches have doubtless given your name. One of the Chicagocorrespondents was talking about you recently. Your father willsurely write to you now."

  "Are you eager to have him do so? I should think you'd hate hisname. I can't help caring for dad, Jane. I tried to curse him onetime, but he really has been good to me. I don't see how he canhave done the things they say he's done."

  "There may be a mistake."

  "That's good of you, dear, but you forget your mother's statementsand all that Rigby says--all that. Oh, I've gone over all of it,and I am convinced. I wonder what has become of him. He was afraidof--of--well, there was talk of an arrest before I left. I have notlooked at a newspaper since I saw the headlines that awful morning.God, how they must have hurt you!"

  "I, too, have not looked at a newspaper since then, Graydon," shesaid simply. He smiled wearily and there was response in her eyes.

  He took her hand in his and they sat silently side by side on thebench for half an hour, their thoughts far away but of one another.

  "Graydon," she said at last, "are you going to remain in the army?"

  "No, I am through with it. My discharge is to be recommended. I'mdisabled."

  "You will be as strong as ever, dear."

  "Do you want me to stick to the army? I am only a private."

  "You can do greater things out in the world, I know. You will bea great man if you don't lose heart, Graydon."

  "I can't be a soldier, dear, and support a wife on the pay I get,"he said with a smile.

  "You shouldn't marry,"

  "But I am going to marry," he said.

  "I have decided to become a nurse. It is my intention to give mywhole life to---"

  "The Red Cross?"

  "No. The hospitals at home--the hospitals for the poor and homeless."

  Ethel Harbin was coming through the grounds toward them. Her facewas clouded by a dark frown and she was visibly excited.

  "It's all off," she announced as she came up.

  "Where is the usual hero?" as
ked Graydon.

  "I'm through with the real army. They've dismissed me. That is fatherand mother have. They are driving me into the Salvation Army," sheexclaimed, seating herself beside Graydon. "I wish I were Jane andmy own mistress."

  "Dear me, Ethel, what an ambition!" said Jane. "What has happenedto upset you so?"

  "Father has."

  "I should have asked who, not what."

  "I suppose they expect me to marry a Salvation Army man. They sayHarry isn't good enough. I think he is a very moral young man."

  "Harry? Who is Harry?"

  "Why, haven't you heard? Harry Soper. I'm engaged to him."

  "The lieutenant?"

  "Certainly. He's going to be promoted, though, if he ever gets onthe firing line. It's not his fault that he has to do duty in thewalled city. He's aching to get out and fight. But father---" Hereshe paused, her lips coming together with a firmness that bodedill.

  "Colonel Harbin doesn't approve?"

  "No--he says Harry is a 'little pup.' It's outrageous, Jane."

  "Don't cry, dear. The world is full of men."

  "Not for me," said Ethel dolefully. "I've picked Harry out of ahundred or more and I think my discrimination ought to be considered.I'm the one to be satisfied. Father has no---"

  "But how about that young fellow back in New York? You used to sayhe was the only one."

  "He is the only one in New York. But look how far off he is! Ittakes weeks for his letters to get to me."

  "But he writes every day."

  "Harry telephones every day. I tell you, Jane, the voice has a gooddeal to do with it. You like to HEAR a fellow say nice things. Itbeats ink all to pieces. It will go hard with him, perhaps, buthe's young. He'll get over it."

  "You are young, too. That is why you have gotten over George."

  "I'm not as young as I was. But I've decided on Harry. If fatherdoesn't let us get married right away, I'm liable to get overhim, too. It's silly doing that all the time; one might never getmarried, you know. But father is firm. He says I can't, and hesays he'll kick Harry into the middle of next summer. Father saysI shall not marry into the regular army. He says they don't makegood husbands. I've got the joke on him, though. He appealed tomother, and she forgot herself and said the same thing. They werequarrelling about it when I left the hotel. It was an awful jar tofather. For two cents I'd elope with Harry."

  "It would be pretty difficult for an officer on duty to elope,don't you think?" asked Graydon, amused.

  "Not if he loved the girl. He does, too. But I haven't told youthe worst. Mother says I am being absolutely spoiled out here inManila, and she says flatly, that she's going to take me back tothe States. Isn't it awful?"

  "Back to the fellow in New York?" smiled Jane encouragingly.

  Ethel thought for a moment and a dear little smile came into hertroubled eyes.

  "I hope he hasn't gone and fallen in love with some other girl,"she said.

  It was true, as Jane soon learned, that Mrs. Harbin had concludedto return to the United States with Ethel. Jane's aunt had grownimmeasurably tired of Manila--and perhaps a little more tired of theColonel. It was she who aroused the Colonel's antipathy to littleLieutenant Soper. She dwelt upon the dire misfortune that waspossible if Ethel continued to bask in the society of "those youngninnies." The Colonel developed a towering rage and a great fearthat Ethel might become fatally contaminated before she couldbe whisked off of the island. It was decided that Mrs. Harbin andEthel should return to the United States soon after the first ofMarch, to take up their residence in New York City.

  "Mother wants to be a soldier's widow--on parole," sniffed Ethel,almost audibly enough for her father's ears.

  Mrs. Harbin at once informed Jane that she was expected to returnwith them. She demurred at first, purely for the sake of appearances,but in the end agreed to tender her resignation to the Red Crosssociety. The knowledge that Graydon Bansemer's discharge was soonforthcoming and that he intended to return to America in the springhad more to do with this decision than she was willing to admit.She therefore announced her ambition to become a trained nurse andgave no heed to Mrs. Harbin's insinuating smile.

  Letters, of late, from Mrs. Cable, had been urging her to return toChicago; David Cable was far from well--breaking fast--and he waswearing out his heart in silent longing for her return. He wrote toher himself that he expected to retire from active business earlyin the year, and that his time and fortune from that day on wouldbe devoted to his family. He held out attractive visions of travel,of residence abroad, of endless pleasure which they could enjoytogether.

  Jane had written to them that she would not live in Chicago--anyplace else in the world, she said--and they understood. There wasno word of James Bansemer in all these letters. She was alwaysdaughter to them and they were father and mother.

  Graydon Bansemer one day received three letters--all from Chicago.He knew the handwriting on the envelope of each. Three men hadwritten to him, his father, Elias Droom, and Rigby. A dark scowlcame over his face as he looked at the Rigby envelope. It was thefirst letter that he opened and read. Jane was sitting near bywatching the expression on his face.

  "It's from Rigby," he said as he finished.

  "What does he say?" she asked anxiously.

  "He says he is my devoted friend for life," replied Graydon bitterly."I can't forget, though, Jane. He is not the sort of friend I want."

  "He thought it was for the best, Graydon."

  "Yes, and he may have thought he was my friend, too. This lettersays as much. But I like an enemy better, dear. You know what toexpect of an enemy at all times. Here's one from Elias Droom--oldElias." Droom scrawled a few words of cheer to the young soldier,urging him not to re-enlist, but to come home, at the end ofhis two years. He enclosed a letter from Mr. Clegg, in which thatgentleman promised to put Graydon in charge of their New York office,if he would take the place. This news sent his spirits bounding.Tears of a gratefulness he never expected to feel sprang to hiseyes. Jane's happiness was a reflection of his own.

  James Bansemer's letter was not read aloud to Jane. When he hadfinished the perusal of the long epistle he folded it and stuckit away in his pocket. His eyes seemed a bit wistful and his facedrawn, but there was no word to let her know what had been writtenby the man who had denounced her.

  "He is well," was all he said. He did not tell her that his fatherhad urged him to go into business in the Philippines, saying thathe would provide ample means with which to begin and carry on anyenterprise he cared to exploit. One paragraph cut Graydon to thequick:

  "I'd advise you to steer clear of Chicago. If they don't kill youin the Philippines, you're better off there. They hate us here."

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  HOMEWARD BOUND