Part 53 (1/2)
”I was given a week's furlough last Sat.u.r.day and went up to Paris with my friend, Paul Caillard. He had a friend in a hospital on the way there, headed by Dr. Braithwaite, the celebrated surgeon of Detroit.”
I caught my breath. As well as if I had already read the words, I knew what was coming.
”At an unexpected turn in the corridor I almost knocked over a little nurse who was hurrying toward the office. She looked up at me startled, out of the prettiest brown eyes I ever saw, and then stopped, staring at me as if I had been a ghost. I stared back, frankly, for her face was familiar to me, although for the moment I could not tell where I had seen her before.
”Then, half-shyly, she spoke, and her voice matched her eyes.
”'You are Mr. Bickett, are you not, Mrs. Graham's cousin?'
”For a moment I did not realize that 'Mrs. Graham' was Margaret. But that gave me no clue to the ident.i.ty of the girl. Then all at once it came to me.
”'I know you now,' I said. 'You are Mark Earle's little sister, Katherine.'”
So they had met at last, Jack Bickett, my brother-cousin, and Katherine Sonnot, the little nurse who had taken care of my mother-in-law, and whom I had learned to love as a dear friend.
Was I glad or sorry, I wondered, as I picked up Jack's letter again that I had crushed any feeling I might have had in the matter, and had spoken the word to Dr. Braithwaite that resulted in Katharine's joining the eminent surgeon's staff of nurses? It seemed a pity to have these two meet only to be torn apart so soon by death.
”I cannot begin to tell you how delighted I was when we recognized each other. You can imagine over here that to one American the meeting with another American, especially if both have the same friends, is an event. Luckily, Miss Sonnot was just about to have an afternoon off when we met, and if she had an engagement--which she denied--she was kind enough to break it for me. I need not tell you that I spent the most delightful afternoon I have had since coming over here.
”You can be sure that I at once exerted all the influence I had through my friend, Caillard, and his friend in the hospital to secure as much free time for Miss Sonnot as possible for the time I was to be on furlough. It is like getting home after being away so long to talk to this brave, sensible, beautiful young girl--for she deserves all of the adjectives.”
In the two letters which were the last ones numbered by Mrs. Stewart, Jack spoke again and again of the little nurse. Almost the last line of his last letter, written after he returned to the front, spoke of her.
”Little Miss Sonnot and I correspond,” he wrote, ”and you can have no idea how much good her letters do me. They are like fresh, sweet breezes glowing through the miasma of life in the trenches.”
I folded the letters, put them back into their envelopes, and arranged them as Mrs. Stewart had given them to me. When she came back into the room she found me still holding them and staring into the fire.
”Did you read them all?” she asked.
”Yes,” I replied.
”Don't you think those last ones sounded as if he were really getting interested in that little nurse?” she demanded.
There was a peculiar intonation in her voice which told me that in her own queer little way she was trying to punish me for my failure to come to see her oftener with inquiries about Jack. She evidently thought that my vanity would be piqued at the thought of Jack becoming interested in any other woman after his life-long devotion to me.
But I flatter myself that my voice was absolutely non-committal as I answered her.
”Yes, I do,” I agreed, ”and what a tragedy it seems that he should be s.n.a.t.c.hed away from the prospect of happiness.”
The words were sincere. I was sure.
And yet--
x.x.xVII
A CHANGE IN LILLIAN UNDERWOOD
”Well, children, have you made any plans for d.i.c.ky's birthday yet?”