CHAPTER XVI
Meet for Repentance
NONA did not know what to do, whether to go first to Eugenia Castaigne or to Barbara herself. Then she decided that it would possibly be fairer to go directly with her warning to Barbara. In Barbara’s place she would have preferred not having Eugenia prejudiced by an outside person.
However, Nona felt that she was having rather more responsibilities toward her friends than she cared to undertake.
Certainly the duty ahead of her was an utterly disagreeable and thankless one! To warn Barbara that her name was being associated with that of Lieutenant Kelley, that there were even other disagreeable rumors, having some mysterious connection with spying, in which she might possibly be supposed to be playing a part, well, Barbara could scarcely be expected to receive such information calmly, or to feel anything but anger and resentment toward the person who brought her such ill news.
Moreover, Nona knew that Barbara had realized she had not altogether approved of her recent behavior and would be the more annoyed for this reason that she should be the messenger.
Several times Nona almost concluded that she would let the whole matter drop. Sooner or later, in some fashion, the gossip or, perhaps, a serious accusation, would eventually reach Barbara. Possibly someone would come to Madame Castaigne or to Mildred Thornton with the story. In either case she would escape all responsibility.
But, seriously, Nona believed that Barbara should be warned. Her entire behavior, although it had been indiscreet, was perfectly innocent. Therefore, it was unfortunate that she should be the subject of disagreeable discussion, when Barbara herself could, in all probability, end it, whatever she might be forced to suffer as a consequence. Nona finally concluded that she owed it not only to her old friendship with Barbara, but to Barbara’s husband, Richard Thornton, to tell Barbara what Philip Dawson had confided to her. For it had been Philip Dawson’s judgment that Barbara should know, and Nona had confidence in his opinion, if not in her own.
That same evening, after dinner, Nona went directly to Barbara’s room. Whether or not she would find her there she had no idea, as Barbara had not been in the dining-room. But then she might possibly be on duty with a patient.
Fortunately, Barbara now occupied a room to herself. After Mildred Thornton had undertaken the care of Captain Castaigne, she had changed into a small room adjoining his, in order that she might be near should he require her attention during the night.
A little later Mollie Drew was to move across the hall to share Barbara’s room. The week before, Agatha Burton had unexpectedly departed for Paris, saying that she had been called home to New York by the illness of her mother and probably could not return to continue her Red Cross work for several months. However, as Eugenia was expecting two new nurses who had just sailed from a port in the United States, the loss of Agatha’s aid was not important.
When Nona knocked at her friend’s door, there was a brief silence, and then a voice inquired:
“Who is it wishes to speak to me? I would prefer to see no one; I am not very well.”
But when Nona had given her name in response, Barbara immediately opened her door.
“Come in, do, Nona, I am so glad to see you. I have been thinking that I would send word for you to come to me, only I was afraid that I might interfere with your work.”
Barbara spoke in the quick fashion characteristic of her. Tonight, however, there was something unusual in her manner, a kind of suppressed nervousness. Now, before Nona could reply to her, she began walking up and down the tiny room.
It was not dark, yet the early dusk had fallen. So Nona could see that Barbara really did look ill. She was extremely pale and her big dark-blue eyes revealed unaccustomed shadows beneath them.
So, instantly Nona made up her mind that her own disagreeable information must wait until a serener hour.
“Of course you should have sent for me, Barbara. But suppose, if you are not well, you lie down and then tell me what is the matter afterwards.”
Impatiently Barbara shook her head.
“Oh, I am not ill, at least not in the way you think. I only told that story in order to keep anyone from coming in whom I did not wish to see. Then I was afraid that it might be either Mildred or Gene, and I did not even wish to see them. I did not really wish to see anyone except you, Nona.”
Barbara was talking in a somewhat incoherent fashion, but Nona did not attempt to interrupt her nor to ask for an explanation.
She had not taken off her nurse’s costume, the white cap and dress with the Red Cross band.
But then, in her Red Cross uniform Barbara Thornton frequently made people think of a stage nurse, she looked so little and young and so extremely piquant.
Even at the present moment Nona thought that no one had the right to take Barbara too seriously. She was really too young to have assumed the responsibilities of marriage.
“I have been behaving very badly, Nona,” Barbara confessed suddenly, but not ceasing her walking up and down, “and I am being punished for it with the comfortable knowledge that I deserve my punishment. But the worst is my punishment has only begun. I don’t know what will become of me when Dick finally hears.”
Nona sat down on one of the two little stiff-backed chairs in the room, but made no suggestion that Barbara should follow her example.
She knew that Barbara would be able to talk more easily if she continued moving.
“You know, Nona, that I have been allowing Lieutenant Kelley to think I was unmarried. No, you do not know this. You only heard me speak of his making this mistake at first, and you must have supposed I had told him the truth before now. But I did not tell him, and, well, I might as well confess the whole story, as I have no right to spare myself anything. Ever since our meeting I have been flirting with him a little. Oh, I did not consider that it would make any difference to him, I presumed he would soon be going away to fight and I meant to confess then. I simply thought as he was a Kentuckian, and accustomed to making himself charming to girls, he was amusing himself with me just as I was having a good time with him. I even supposed he might be engaged to someone at home. Certainly I never dreamed of his taking his feeling for me seriously. Then, this afternoon, when Lieutenant Kelley had an hour off duty and I met him in the garden at Madame Bonnèt’s, why—why, Nona, he told me he loved me, and actually asked me to marry him. Some day, perhaps, I may get over the shame and pain of it, but tonight I feel that I never can.”
And, dropping down on the side of her bed, Barbara covered her face with her hands.
“I had to tell him the truth then, Nona, and there is something else I shall never forget, and that is the way Lieutenant Kelley looked at me and the apology he made, oh, not to me, but to my husband: ‘It has been my mistake, of course, all along, Mrs. Thornton, you cannot have intended me to misunderstand you. I have simply been inconceivably stupid, and I hardly know what amends I do not owe to your husband.’ Then, Nona, he looked such a boy and as if he had been so horribly hurt in his faith in women and in his own sense of honor. I don’t know what I said to him afterwards, I scarcely know what I am saying to you now. Of course I told him that he did not really care for me, but, somehow, I am afraid he does, Nona, and oh, isn’t it dreadful that one cannot suffer alone for one’s sins in this world? I deserve anything, but Hugh isn’t responsible and neither is Dick, and yet they must both be unhappy for my fault. I think, perhaps, when I tell Dick of my deception he may not care to have me for his wife any longer.”
Barbara appeared so utterly dejected that if the situation had been less serious Nona would have smiled. Yet, somehow, she could not find anything to make her feel like smiling at this moment. She thought of saying to Barbara that, perhaps, she need not make a confession to her husband. Then Nona decided that she had no right to offer any possible advice. Since she was unmarried herself, she did not understand how complete a confidence should exist between a man and wife. It might also be a safeguard to Barbara’s future if she felt impelled to confide her first breach of faith to her husband. Nona knew Dick Thornton well enough not to envy Barbara her confession.
“Dick is coming tomorrow. I had a letter from him today saying he had been given a short leave and would take the first train to me. I suppose I ought to be happy over his coming, but I am not. Later it might have been easier to have told him what I must tell him. Perhaps, after a while, I won’t even feel quite so wicked as I do now. It is a perfectly horrid sensation, Nona! Of course you are such a saint you can’t even imagine how I feel!”
Then Nona did manage to laugh, and getting up from her chair she went over and sat down on the bed beside Barbara, putting her arm about her.
“I know you do not wish me to say, Bab, that I think you have been quite square. But please don’t think I desire to criticise you; I am just dreadfully sorry and wish there were something I could say or do that might help. I know you were simply lonely and that life at the hospital has seemed rather hard and dull after your happy time in your own home with Dick. If we had only been very busy at the hospital it would have made a great difference. Perhaps Mildred or Eugenia——”
“Mildred and Eugenia!” Nona felt her hand being tightly clutched.
“Oh, for goodness sake promise me never to breathe a word of what I have told you either to Mildred or Gene. I am sure Gene would never allow me to remain at the hospital afterwards. And, somehow, to have one’s right to be a Red Cross nurse taken away would make one feel as a soldier must who is stripped of his uniform and sword. Then you see Mildred might possibly tell my mother-in-law what I have done and she has never been any too enthusiastic over me as a wife for Dick.”
The faintest suggestion of a smile appearing on Barbara’s face at this moment, Nona felt the gloom of the situation a bit lightened.
“Suppose you allow me to help you to bed then, Bab, and let us not talk about disagreeable things any more tonight. As Dick is to arrive tomorrow, at least there is no point in your looking as if you had been ill. Just remember you can count on me if I can be useful in any possible fashion.”
“You are a dear, Nona,” Barbara answered, as she began slowly to follow her friend’s advice, “especially as I have been pretty neglectful and have seemed to be indifferent to you lately. But you know I never have been indifferent really. It was only that I was doing something of which I realized you would not approve and I did not wish you to know.”
Nona made no answer, but after waiting until Barbara was comfortably in bed she kissed her and went quietly away.
As a matter of fact, she had told Barbara nothing of what she had intended telling her. But she could not make up her mind to burden her further with the information that Lieutenant Kelley might have to meet another disillusion, more serious, perhaps, than the loss of his faith in her. For there can be nothing in the life of a soldier that comes so close to him as having his loyalty doubted.
Neither did Nona mention that Barbara might also have to clear herself of an impossible suspicion. But she was not sorry that Richard Thornton was to be with his wife for the next few days. If any difficulty should arise, Dick’s reputation was a sufficient guarantee for them both.