Sister Mollie Hepworth was twenty-five years of age. She had just completed a long and exhaustive training as a nurse. She had served her time in the London Hospital, entering as a probationer, and finally being promoted to the proud position of a ward sister. She had then undergone a period of six months' probation at the Royal Victoria Hospital, Netley, as her dream of all dreams was to nurse our soldiers in their hours of danger and death.
Mollie was a bright-looking, handsome girl. Her eyes were brown and well opened; she had a healthy colour in her cheeks; and she held herself as upright as any soldier in Her Majesty's army. No one had ever seen Sister Mollie perturbed or put out—her self-control was proverbial. She had an admirable temper, too, and never allowed an impatient word to cross her lips. She was reticent, and no gossip. Secrets, even important ones, could be intrusted to her without any fear of their being betrayed. Her eyes looked clearly out at life. Her lips were firm; her whole bearing that of one who has made up her mind, whose career is fixed, whose watchword is duty, and whose desire is to benefit her fellow-creatures.
"Put my luggage on the cab, please, porter; there is not a moment to lose, or I shall miss my train," said the clear voice of the Sister on a certain sunny morning early in September 1899.
The man obeyed. A neat trunk, followed by a hat-box, was deposited on the top of a cab, and a moment later Sister Mollie had left Netley. She was going to spend a fortnight with her sister in London.
"A fortnight of absolute rest," she said to herself; "a whole fourteen days with nothing special to do! No necessity to think of my patients; no obligation to rise at a given hour in the morning. To be out of training for a whole fortnight! I can scarcely believe it. I wonder if I shall enjoy it. I know one thing, at least, that I shall enjoy, and that is seeing Kitty. I have not met my darling for nearly two years!"
As this thought came to Mollie Hepworth, dimples visited her cheeks, and her eyes shone so brightly that some of her fellow-passengers turned to look at her.
She was wearing her nurse's uniform, and it set off her clear complexion and graceful figure to the best possible advantage. Sister Mollie arrived at her destination between five and six o'clock that evening. Her cab conveyed her to a large house in Maida Vale.
The moment she entered, a merry voice shouted her name, and a girl, with complexion and eyes very like her own, rushed downstairs and flung herself into her arms.
"O Mollie, this is like heaven! I have been counting the moments until you came. And how are you? Do let me have a good look. Are you altered? No, I declare, not a bit! Come upstairs; you and I are to share the same bedroom. You will have such a hearty welcome from Aunt Louisa; but she is out now with Gavon."
"Do you know, Kitty," replied Mollie, "that I have never yet seen Gavon Keith?"
"He is at home now," replied the other girl. "You will see plenty of him by-and-by. Oh, how I have missed you, and how delightful it is to have you back again!"
"And I have missed you, my darling little Kitty."
The girls had now reached a large and beautifully-furnished bedroom on the first floor.
"This is our room," said Kitty. "Aunt Louisa did not wish us to share it, at first; she thought you would rather have a room to yourself, but I over-persuaded her. We can have such cosy talks. Oh, I have a lot to tell you! There are some things joyful, and some things—well, just a bit worrying. But there is a whole beautiful fortnight when we can talk and talk to our hearts' content."
"And I am a full-blown Sister, absolutely through all my training," said Mollie.
She took off her nurse's bonnet as she spoke, and let her cloak tumble to the floor.
"You look superb, Mollie, in your Sister's dress; but you must not wear it while you are here. You and I are exactly the same height, and one of my pretty dinner dresses will fit you. I have been saying so much to Gavon about you. O Mollie, I don't like to tell you, and yet I think I must."
Here Kitty broke off abruptly. She toyed with the ribbons at her belt; her eyes sought the ground.
"What is it?" asked Mollie, half guessing at the information which Kitty was so anxious and yet so afraid to bestow.
"It is this," said Kitty restlessly: "I am not quite engaged, but I am all but."
"To whom, darling? You know you are very precious to me, and I am much older than you. I shall have to look into this matter."
"Oh, you will like him; you will be more than satisfied with him. You cannot help it," replied Kitty. "It is to Gavon—yes, to dear Gavon. I have loved him for so long. He has not quite absolutely spoken, but he will—I know he will. I think he will say something while you are here. The words often seem to me to be trembling on his lips. O Mollie, this is not like ordinary happiness! it is so deep that it frightens me."
Kitty's face grew very pale. She sank down in a chair, clasping her pretty hands together on her knee. Then she looked full up at her sister.
"This is quite splendid!" replied Mollie. "I shall look on Captain Keith with great interest now. Am I to see him to-night?"
"Of course you are. I told him you were coming. He is certain to be in, if not to dinner, very soon afterwards. Here is his photograph."
Kitty sprang up as she spoke, ran to her chest of drawers, took a photograph encased in a neat leather frame from a pile of others, and brought it up to Mollie.
"Here," she said, "look at his face. Is he not splendid?"
Mollie looked. A puzzled expression came into her eyes. It seemed to her that she had seen that face before, she could not recall where.
"What is the matter with you, Mollie?" asked Kitty.
"Nothing; only the face seems familiar."
"Perhaps you have seen him. You must have seen many soldiers at Netley."
"I cannot remember," said Mollie, returning the photograph to Kitty. "Thank you, Kits. He looks very nice, and, I think, even worthy of you. I am glad, after all, you are marrying a soldier, for I mean to devote all my life to them."
"Oh, how splendid of you, Mollie! But I do hope we are not going to have war. It would be too awful to have Gavon away, and his life in danger; and you also, darling Mollie, for of course if we do fight the Boers you will go to South Africa."
"Time enough to think of that," said Mollie. "Come and sit down. It is good to have a chat with you, Kitty. I may as well say it; I hope my chance to do something great will come before I am much older. I am just pining to be doing, and helping, and saving lives. Oh, mine is a grand mission!"
"I suppose it is," answered Kitty. "But, after all," she added, her eyes sparkling, "it is not half so grand as being engaged to the man you love best in the world. Oh, I do hope Gavon will soon speak, for I love him so very, very much!"
The girls chatted a little longer, and then Kitty ran downstairs to tell Mrs. Keith that Mollie had arrived. A young man, with dark hair, a straight moustache, and an otherwise clean-shaven face, was standing in the hall. He turned as she approached.
"Is that you, Kitty?" he said.
She ran up to him. He held out both his hands, and clasped hers. Her face turned first crimson, then pale.
"What is the matter?" he asked. "Have you heard what I was talking about to the mater?"
"You must not be frightened, Kitty," said Mrs. Keith. "After all, nothing may come of it; but Keith says the news from the Transvaal is anything but reassuring."
"War may be declared at any moment," said Keith.
"But your regiment won't be ordered abroad?" cried Kitty, with a catch in her voice.
"I hope it will!" he replied. "I want to get a bit of real fighting. Some stiff active service would suit me down to the ground."
Kitty's pretty lips trembled. She struggled with her emotion. Then raising her eyes, she said in as bright a tone as she could muster,—
"We must not think of dismal things to-night. Our Red Cross Sister has just arrived. I want you both so badly to see Mollie."
"I shall be delighted to make her acquaintance," replied Keith; "but I am not dining at home to-night. Sorry, little girl, but can't help it. I will be in as early as I can. Why, what's the matter, Kit?" for Kitty's eyes had filled with tears.
"I have been so looking forward to your seeing Mollie," she answered; "I am dying to know what you think of her. But there," she added, brightening up the next moment, "if you will come in soon after dinner, all will be right. And I am not going to be disagreeable," she continued, "for, of course, you cannot help it."
"Tell your sister, Kitty, that I will come up to see her in a few moments," said Mrs. Keith.
The girl nodded, and ran out of the room. In the hall she stood still for a moment, wrestling with her emotion.
"I wonder if he really cares, or if I am only imagining it?" was her thought.
"That is a dear little girl, mother," said Gavon, turning to speak to his mother when Kitty had left the room.
Mrs. Keith looked at her son gravely.
"I am very fond of Kitty," she said then. "I am glad that I adopted her. She is a delightful companion and a dear little soul. But how nervous she is, Gavon! I have noticed it often of late in your presence. I cannot help wondering—"
Mrs. Keith broke off abruptly.
"Wonder at nothing, mother," was his answer. "There is nothing between us—nothing at all. Kitty is a dear little sort of cousin—no more."
"You must remember that she is not really your cousin. Kitty is my adopted niece. Just as good as a real one, but in case by—"
"I know, mother; I know all you would say. I like her very much, but I have never yet met the girl I want to marry. I have never yet been in love, although I am twenty-eight years of age. You don't want to hand me over to the tender mercies of a wife too soon, do you, mater?"
"My dearest, as far as I am concerned, I like you best without a wife. But you must marry some day, Gavon; and if it should so happen that you really liked Kitty, why, why—"
"You would like it too? Well, I will think it all out, mother; but at present I fancy my attention will be turned to other matters. We are going to have fighting, and I am rejoiced to know it."
Mrs. Keith laid her hand on her son's arm. Just for a moment that hand trembled. Then she said in a brave voice,—
"Well, and I am the mother of a soldier. I must take the bitter with the sweet."
She turned away as she spoke. Gavon followed her, put his arm round her waist, bent down and kissed her on her forehead, and then left the house.
Meanwhile the girls upstairs talked as fast as a pair of eager tongues could manage. Each had a great deal to say to the other. Mollie and Kitty were orphans. Mollie was six years Kitty's senior. Their parents had died within one week of each other—when Mollie was seventeen years of age, and Kitty eleven. An aunt had left Kitty twenty thousand pounds, which was to accumulate for her until her majority. Mollie, on the contrary, had only fifty pounds a year of her own. Kitty was adopted by Mrs. Keith, who took a fancy to the pretty girl, and afterwards grew so much attached to her that she could scarcely bear her out of her sight. Mollie, at the age of twenty, took up nursing seriously as a profession. From her earliest years Mollie had shown a great aptitude for this noble work. She had that calmness of nature which denotes strength; she was not easily ruffled; and when she made up her mind she stuck to her resolves.
If there was one person in all the world whom Mollie loved better than another, it was her little sister Kitty. Each girl idolized the other; and although for long years now they had been to a considerable extent separated, their early love was still unchanged. Kitty was almost frantic with delight at the thought of a whole fortnight of her sister's society.
"Everything must happen in that time," she kept saying to herself—"everything that is possible and delightful. Gavon shall tell me that he loves me. I know he does—I know it; and he will tell me so while darling Mollie is with us. And auntie will consent, of course. And the wedding shall all be arranged, and Mollie shall advise me as to my trousseau, and Mollie shall see my engagement ring. And Mollie shall talk to Gavon and tell him what a naughty, silly, and yet affectionate little girl he has secured as his future wife. Oh, life is too beautiful, too beautiful! Even though I am in debt, horribly in debt for my clothes, and Aunt Louisa knows nothing about it, the joy of life is almost too much for me!"
Now Kitty poured out a great deal of her heart to Mollie. All her conversation was about Gavon Keith.
"He has not spoken, but I know he will speak," she kept on reiterating; "and I don't mind telling you, Mollie, for I have always told you just everything."
As Mollie listened, she could not help feeling just a little anxious. Suppose by any chance Kitty was mistaken! But then she made up her mind to hope for the best.
"The child would not speak as she does if she were not quite, quite sure. All the same, I wonder she can talk of him as she does until he has told her in so many words that he loves her as she deserves to be loved," was her grave inward comment.
"You shall see him for yourself to-night," said Kitty, at the end of almost every speech. "You shall tell me to-night what you think of him."
Just then a little clock on the mantelpiece struck the hour of seven.
"Who would have supposed it was so late?" said Kitty, starting up suddenly. "Now, Mollie, I will bring in the dress you are to wear. Gavon won't dine, but he is certain to be back about ten o'clock; and even if he keeps us up a little later, it does not matter, does it?"
"Certainly not, dear. I have had a day of perfect rest, and am good for any amount of sitting up to-night."
"You always were a darling! Now, I wonder which of my dresses would best become you?"
"It seems so ridiculous for me to wear anything but this," said Mollie, and she looked at her nurse's uniform with affection.
"Oh, I love you in your nurse's dress!" said Kitty. "You make me quite wish to be ill, in order that you may put me to bed and pet me, and give me my medicines, and tonics, and nice, tempting invalid food. But as I am not ill—as I am, on the contrary, in the most radiant health and strength—I should for the time being like to see my own Mollie in some other guise than that of a Red Cross nurse."
"Well, I would do more than that to please you, Kitty."
"We must be quick, or we shall be late for dinner, and that is just the kind of thing which does disturb Aunt Louisa."
The next half-hour was spent by both girls in getting into their evening finery. When their toilets were complete, they went and stood with their arms round each other in front of a tall mirror which stood in one corner of the room.
"I must say, though I say it who should not," said Kitty, with a laugh, "that we look as presentable as any two girls I have ever come across. Why, Mollie, I did not know until now that you were quite an inch taller than I am. But never mind; your dress looks perfectly sweet, and your feet are so pretty it does not matter whether they are seen or not. And oh, Mollie, what a white neck you have, and such round arms! I do think black lace is the very prettiest evening dress of all. But stay; you must have colour. I will run down to the conservatory and bring up some scarlet geraniums."
Kitty flew away, returning in a few minutes with a bunch of the brilliant flowers. She fastened them into her sister's belt, and stepped back to look at the effect.
"Now you are perfect!" she said. "You are a young lady enjoying one of her first peeps into society. Oh dear, it is too comical! Here am I, almost sick of going out (for Aunt Louisa takes me somewhere nearly every night); and here are you, with just the airs of an ingénue. And you are five-and-twenty, are you not, Mollie?"
"Quite old compared with you, Kitty."
"I shall be twenty in a month," said Kitty, "and then in one year my fortune comes in. Oh dear, what a horrible thing money is!"
As she spoke a change came over her face—a wistful, puzzled, distressed expression. Mollie noticed it.
"It is impossible the child can be in money difficulties," she said to herself. "I must speak to her about this later on."
The dinner gong sounded, and the two ran downstairs. Mrs. Keith was in the drawing-room. She gave Mollie a hearty welcome.
"You look very well indeed," she said. "How like Kitty you are, and yet how different!"
This was quite true. Kitty was far and away the prettier sister, and yet no one would look at Kitty when Mollie was present. It was difficult to account for this fact; nevertheless it existed. The very tone of the elder girl's voice was arresting—there was a dignity in everything she said; and yet she never posed, nor had she a trace of affectation in her nature. One secret of her influence may have been that she absolutely, on every possible occasion, forgot herself. Her life was a consecration. To make others happy was the whole aim and object of her existence. When her father and mother died, she had been old enough to feel their deaths intensely. But the greatest sorrow of all had never come into her life; and beautiful and perfect as her character seemed, there were hidden depths yet to be explored, and greater heights to be reached, before Mollie Hepworth would gain the full crown of womanhood. As to love, in the sense in which Kitty loved Gavon Keith, Mollie had never even thought of it. Her feeling, as she sat now at her aunt's luxurious table, was that nothing would induce her to marry.
"A consecrated life shall ever be mine," was her thought.
Nevertheless she was quite healthy enough to fully enjoy the present, and she drew Mrs. Keith out to talk of her son, and asked Kitty many fresh questions with regard to her employments and interests.
"I wish you would scold Kitty," said Mrs. Keith to Mollie in the course of the evening, "she is so very frivolous."
"O auntie, what a perfect shame!" said Kitty. "I frivolous! If frivolous means being intensely affectionate, I am that, but I don't think I am frivolous in any other sense of the word."
"I am not complaining of you, Kitty—you suit me perfectly; but you are just a dear little gay butterfly flitting about from flower to flower, always sipping the sweets and enjoying life to the utmost."
"Oh, I do enjoy life," said Kitty; "it is perfectly heavenly even to be alive!"
"Whereas Mollie," continued Mrs. Keith, "takes life, this very same life, Kitty, in a totally different way."
"Kitty and I were always different," replied Mollie. "What suits one doesn't suit the other. I should be sick of being a butterfly and just sipping the sweets out of the flowers. Such a life would be absolute misery to me. Therefore I cannot consider myself in any way praiseworthy for adopting another."
Mrs. Keith uttered a quick sigh.
"There are moments when life is serious to us all," she said gravely. "Hark! what are they crying in the street?"
Mrs. Keith raised her hand to listen. Both girls held their breath.
"'Further trouble in the Transvaal: serious disturbance,'" repeated Mrs. Keith, her lips turning white. "I am afraid there is no doubt that we shall have to go to war with the Boers."
"It looks like it," replied Mollie, and her eyes kindled.
"You would love to air your knowledge about nursing soldiers," said Kitty. "How horrid of you!"
"Well, Kitty, can you blame me? What is the good of being a soldier's nurse if I am never to enter on the full duties of my profession?"
"Surely it is not necessary to have war just to give you experience?" said Kitty. She turned very white as she spoke, and her brown eyes filled with sudden tears.
Mrs. Keith glanced at her, and then turned away. But as, a moment later, she passed Kitty's side, she took her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. Kitty jumped up impatiently.
"Mollie," she cried, "I am going to sing to you. You shall see at least that I have some accomplishments."
She ran to the piano, opened it, crashed out a noisy waltz, and then burst into a rollicking song. Her voice was powerful and beautifully trained. It lacked a certain power of expression, but was finished and very pleasant to listen to. Mollie was standing by the piano, and turning over the pages of her sister's music, when the door was opened, and Gavon Keith in his dinner dress came in. He was a striking-looking and very handsome man. As the girl raised her eyes to look at him she gave a sudden start. She had seen him before; he was not, after all, a stranger. She had seen him, and in such different circumstances that if she were to disclose all she knew this little party would indeed be electrified. When she recognized him, he also recognized her. The colour left his face; he stood still for a moment; then recovering himself, he went up to his mother.
"Introduce me to Miss Hepworth, won't you?"
Kitty, who had been singing, let her voice drop; her hands came down on the keys with a crash. She saw the change on Gavon's face when he looked at Mollie. Her love for him made her intensely jealous. Was it possible? Oh no, it could not be! She danced up to his side as he came up to Mollie and took her hand.
"We must not be strangers," he said. "We are relations of a sort, are we not?"
"I don't know," replied Mollie. "We are friends at least, I hope."
His eyes seemed to convey a warning as he looked at her. She returned his gaze with a full, frank expression on her face, and he knew at once that he had nothing to fear from her. The magnetic influence which she always carried with her wherever she went affected him strangely, however. He sank down on the nearest chair and began to talk to her. Kitty flitted restlessly about. Gavon did not once glance in her direction. After a time he said,—
"What is the matter with you, Kit? Can't you sit still? I am much interested in what your sister is telling me."
"Tell me too, then, Mollie," said Kitty, and there was a note of sadness and entreaty in her voice.
She slipped into a seat close to Mollie, who put her arm round her waist.
Keith continued to ask eager questions. He was interested in Mollie's experiences as a nurse at the Victoria Hospital, Netley. All of a sudden he seemed to recognize a change in her. Her voice at first had been full of enthusiasm, but when she felt the touch of Kitty's small hand her manner changed—it became formal. She rose after a moment.
"I did not know that I was tired, but I find I am," she said. "Will you excuse me, Aunt Louisa? I should like to go to bed."
"Do, my dear, certainly," replied Mrs. Keith.
"Then, Kit, you must give me another song," said Keith.
His words and request immediately chased away every cloud from her face. She took her seat at the piano, and Mollie went out of the room.
Several months before the events just related, as Mollie Hepworth was returning late to the hospital at Netley, she was arrested by seeing a figure lying by the roadside. Her professional instincts were at once aroused, and she hurried towards it. She bent down, to discover a gentlemanly-looking, well-dressed man. He was breathing heavily, and was evidently quite unconscious.
She gave a hurried exclamation, and fell on her knees by his side. She took one of his limp hands in hers, and bending low, perceived a smell like that of opium on his breath. Had he been drugged by another? What could have happened? Her first instinct was to shield him from any possible disgrace; her second, to restore him to consciousness. She looked to right and left of her. The road was lonely—there was no one in sight. Exercising all her strength, she pulled the man more to one side. She then applied a vinaigrette, which she happened to have about her, to his nostrils, and finding a little stream of water not far off, took some in the palms of both hands, and flung the liquid over his face. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked at her.
"She took one of his limp hands in hers."
"Where am I?" he said. "Who are you? What has happened?"
"I am a nurse," said Mollie—"a Sister of the Red Cross. I am a nurse at the Royal Victoria Hospital. I found you lying here: Let me help you home."
"Oh! what can have happened to me?" he exclaimed heavily, and yet with great consternation in his voice. "Give me your hand," he said then. "I am better; I can walk alone if you will help me to rise."
She got him to his feet with some difficulty, but he tottered, and she had to give him her arm.
"Lean on me," she said. "Where shall I take you?"
"I remember everything now," he replied, speaking more to himself than to her. "I have been drugged: I felt the effects, and came for a walk, hoping to walk them off. Before I knew what I was doing I became unconscious. What would have happened to me if you had not been passing by?"
"Some one else would have found you," said Mollie.
"It would have been reported at barracks, and I should have been disgraced."
"You are one of the officers, then?"
"Yes."
"Well, I will take you back."
"I will walk with you a little way, but I am fast getting better. What a mercy you found me!" he kept on repeating at intervals.
He leaned heavily against her. She was strong and tall. They paused at last just outside the barracks, under a lamp. The light fell full on her face. He looked into her eyes, and the colour mounted into his own forehead.
"To whom am I indebted?" he asked.
"To a Sister of the Red Cross," she replied. "But I don't need thanks," she added hastily; "I am only too glad to have been able to help you."
"As far as I can tell, I owe my life to you," he replied.
He looked at her as if he expected her to say more; but she did not ask his name. There was an expression of relief on his face as she turned away.
"Good-night; God bless you!" he said. "I shall thank you for this in my heart to the longest day I live."
She held out her hand, and he grasped it. Never before had he felt so strong, so cool, so firm, so strength-giving a hand.
Mollie went back to the hospital, and in the rush and excitement of her daily life more or less forgot this incident. But to-night, when Captain Keith entered the room, it all came back to her; for the handsome, careless face of Gavon Keith was the very same she had seen, pale and under the influence of opium, a short time ago. She had noticed then the upright figure, the straight features, the shape of the eyes, the well-formed lips, and as she recognized him she saw by a light which suddenly rushed into his eyes that he recognized her.
Mollie sat down and thought over this strange circumstance. She had been tired, really tired, when she left the drawing-room; but she was wide awake now, and not at all inclined to go to bed. It was past midnight when Kitty, her cheeks on fire, her eyes dancing, came into the room.
"What!" said the younger sister; "still up, Mollie? I thought you were so sleepy! Do you know, I stayed downstairs on purpose just to give you a chance to get very sound asleep before I disturbed you."
"I shall have plenty of time for sleep later on," replied Mollie.
"Oh, you made me so jealous, my darling Moll, when you talked to Gavon; but I am all right now. I will just slip off my dress, put on my dressing-gown, and we can renew our delightful conversation while we brush our hair."
"No," said Mollie, rising abruptly. "I find that, after all, I am tired. I want to go to bed."
Kitty looked at her in some surprise.
"But what does this mean?" she said. "I have so much to say to you. I cannot rest until you have told me what you think of him."
"Think of whom, Kate?"
"How stiff of you to call me Kate! No one does unless they are displeased. Are you displeased with me, my own Mollie—are you?"
"You must not talk nonsense, Kitty," said Mollie, in a grave voice. "I am tired, and am really determined to go to bed. I shall not utter another word to keep you from your own rest."
Kitty pouted, but Mollie was resolute. She was not a nurse for nothing. She knew that Kitty was already so excited that she might not sleep for some time. The sooner she got to bed, however, the better.
With a discontented pout on her rosy lips Kitty watched her elder sister undress. The little girl was happy, however; the last hour with Gavon had chased all uncomfortable feelings away. He did love her—he must love her. Was there not love in his eyes and tenderness in his voice? The moment, therefore, she laid her head on her pillow she fell asleep, to dream of him.
Not so Mollie. She felt uncomfortable and alarmed. She dreaded she knew not what. An intuition had already taken possession of her that Kitty's love affair was not to end happily. She doubted very much whether Keith really cared for her little sister. If so, what was to become of Kitty's passion? Keith had looked at Mollie as if he wished to confide in her. Would he allude to that circumstance in both their lives which had taken place a few months ago?
It was towards morning when the tired girl sank into slumber, and in consequence it was late before she arose. When she opened her eyes, Kitty was standing over her.
"Gavon has gone out long ago," she said, "and Aunt Louisa too; and it is nearly ten o'clock, and we have all breakfasted. And you, you lazy girl, are to have breakfast all by yourself in the morning-room. Or would you prefer it here?"
"Oh no; I am ashamed of myself," said Mollie. "I will get up at once and join you downstairs within half an hour."
"You are privileged, you know, Mollie dear," said Kitty. "Aunt Louisa says the carriage is to return for us both at eleven o'clock. I want to do some shopping, and I thought perhaps you would come with me."
"With pleasure, dear," replied Mollie.
The moment her sister left the room she rose, dressed in her nurse's uniform, and went downstairs. When she entered the morning-room Kitty was seated at the tea tray, looking as radiant and free from care as girl could look.
"Gavon was in a great state of excitement when he went off this morning," she said to her sister. "He is persuaded there will be war."
"Well, and if there is war," said Mollie, "it will do us a great deal of good. Oh, I know you think me heartless, but our army wants active service again. We need to test our strength."
"You talk just as though you belonged to the army yourself," said Kitty.
"And so I do. If there is fighting, I shall be in the thick of it."
"You don't think of me," cried Kitty, turning pale. "Please remember that if there is fighting Gavon is certain to be sent to the front. You will go as nurse, and he will go as soldier. What is to become of poor Kitty?"
"Kitty will be brave, and help us all she can at home," replied Mollie.
"That is all very fine," said Kitty, "but I must tell you frankly I don't like the rôle."
Mollie looked up as Kitty spoke.
"You are changed," she said slowly. "In some ways I should not know you."
"What do you mean?"
"You have been too much in the world, Kitty. My little Kitty, did I do wrong to leave you? When mother died she left you in my charge. Did I do wrong to let Mrs. Keith adopt you? It seems to me—I scarcely like to say it—that you—"
"Oh, do say it, please—do say it," remarked Kitty.
"You are less unselfish than you used to be, and more—oh, I hate myself even for thinking it—more worldly."
"No, no, I am not; but I am anxious," replied the younger girl. "There are many things to make me—yes, anxious just now. But I hope I shall be the happiest girl on earth soon."
"Kitty, suppose—"
"Suppose what?" asked Kitty. "Oh, what awful thing are you going to say now, Mollie?"
"Nothing. I won't say it," replied Mollie suddenly. "I have finished breakfast. I can go out with you whenever you like."
Kitty gazed in a frightened way at her sister.
"It is nothing, dear," said Mollie tenderly. "I have given you my little lecture, and I will say nothing further at present."
"And I am not all bad, and I love you, and I hope to be the happiest girl on earth before long," was Kitty's rejoinder. And then she flew upstairs to put on her hat and jacket.
The girls drove first to Madame Dupuys, a fashionable dressmaker in Bond Street. Madame received them both in her large showroom. Her face was rather grave.
"I had hoped to have a letter from you before now, Miss Hepworth," she said, in a significant tone, to Kitty.
"It is all right," replied Kitty. "You may expect to hear from me any day."
"Very well, miss."
"And I want to order a dress at once. I am going on Monday evening to the fancy ball at the Countess of Marsden's house on the Thames. I cannot possibly wear any of my old dresses."
"What will you have?" asked the dressmaker.
"Something very, very pretty, and absolutely out of the common. Madame, I should like to introduce my sister to you; she is a Red Cross nurse."
Madame bowed gravely in Mollie's direction. She was a very handsome woman, beautifully dressed.
"We are all interested in the Red Cross Sisters," she said, after a moment's pause. "Have you heard the latest news, miss? They say war will be declared within the week!"
Kitty turned white.
"I am determined not to think of disagreeable things before they occur," she said; "and I want my dress to be white, with silver over it. Now, do show me some designs."
"I will fetch some fashion-books," said madame, "and we can discuss the style."
"Kitty," said Mollie, the moment they were alone, "surely you are not in debt for any of your beautiful clothes?"
Kitty's face looked troubled.
"I am just a wee bit harassed," she said slowly, "but it will be all right by-and-by. Don't worry, Mollie."
"It seems so wrong," replied Mollie.
"You know nothing about it," answered Kitty, tapping her small foot impatiently on the floor. "I go out a great deal, and I have to look my best, because—" she stopped. "You would act as I do if you had the same reasons," she continued. "And you must remember that in about another year I shall have plenty of money."
"Well, it is wrong to go in debt," replied Mollie. "If you are in money difficulties, it would be far better to speak to Mrs. Keith."
"To Aunt Louisa? Never! she would tell Gavon. Ah, here comes madame.—Madame, my sister has been reading me such a lecture," and Kitty smiled her incorrigible smile.
Madame Dupuys made no remark. She opened the fashion-book, and soon Miss Hepworth and the dressmaker were deep in consultation over the material and style of the new dress.
"Don't you think it will be exquisite, Mollie?" said Kitty, as they left the showroom.
"Very pretty indeed, dear," replied Mollie.
They came home to lunch, where Captain Keith awaited them.
"My mother has left you a message," he said. "She is going to see a friend, and will not be back until dinner time. Now, I happen to have a whole afternoon at my own disposal. If I place it at yours, can you make any use of me?"
"O Gavon, how quite too heavenly!" said Kitty. "You shall take us somewhere. This dear Mollie does not know her London a bit. Her education must be attended to, and without any loss of time. And, Gavon, I have been ordering a dress for the Countess of Marsden's dance on Monday."
"Another dress!" said Keith, shrugging his shoulders. "What an extravagant girl!"
"Don't you like me to wear pretty dresses? I thought you did."
"Of course I do; and you look charming in everything you put on, but I did not know you wanted a new dress. You had something soft and furry, like the breast of a rabbit, the last time you went to a dance with me. I remember it quite well, although I cannot describe it; for the fur was always touching my shoulder, and it came off a little. I found the white hairs on my coat the next morning."
Kitty blushed.
"I am glad you liked that dress," she said; "but you will like what I am going to appear in on Monday even better. I want to be a vision—a dream."
Keith looked at her; a thoughtful expression came into his eyes. He noted the colour which came and went on her checks, the brightness of her brown eyes, the love light, too, which was all too visible, as those well-opened eyes fixed themselves on his face.
"Poor little girl!" he said to himself. Then he glanced at Mollie, and his heart beat quickly. "If only those two could exchange places!" he thought; "it would be easy then to—"
He checked the unfinished thought with a sigh which was scarcely perceptible.
"Where shall we go?" he said. He took out his watch. "Although it is out of the season, there is a passable concert at St. James's Hall, and you are so fond of music, Kit. What does Sister Mollie say?"
"Oh, please call me Mollie," said the elder girl.
"What would you like, Mollie?" he asked.
"The concert, by all means."
"We can take tickets at the door. We will go there, and afterwards have tea at my club."
"Delicious!" said Kitty. "You don't know, Mollie, what tea at Gavon's club is like. Only I do wish—"
"What, dear?"
"That you would not wear your uniform. I didn't think nurses thought it necessary when they were taking holidays."
"I won't, if you dislike it," said Mollie. "I have brought a dress which I can wear. It is not very fashionable, but I don't suppose that matters."
"Would you not rather, Gavon, that Mollie did not come in her uniform?" asked Kitty, in an eager voice.
"Mollie must do exactly what she pleases," was the reply.
"I see you would both rather not have attention drawn to me," said Mollie. "That is quite enough. I will dress as an ordinary lady."
"And lose a good deal," said Gavon. "But perhaps you are right. There is so much disturbance in the air, that anything even savouring of the military draws attention at the present moment."
"Come upstairs at once, Mollie, and I will help to turn you into a fashionable lady," said Kitty, with a laugh.
But this was more easily said than done. Mollie had a certain style about her—the style which accompanies a perfectly-made body and a well-ordered mind. But she had none of that peculiar appearance which constitutes fashion. Her hair was simply knotted at the back of her head, and was without fringe or wave. The only dress she had at her disposal had been made two years ago. The sleeves were too large for the prevailing mode, and the bodice was by no means smart. Mollie, however, put on her unfashionable garment with the best faith in the world, and tripped up to Kitty when her toilet was complete.
"How do you like me?" she said.
Kitty turned to her, and her brown eyes flashed fire.
"Oh, you must not go out looking like that," she was about to say. But she suddenly stopped.
She herself was the very perfection of dainty neatness, of fashionable, yet not too fashionable, attire. Her hair was picturesquely arranged. Her hat was stylish; the very veil which hid and yet revealed the roses on her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes was what the world would call the mode. Beside this dainty and perfectly-arrayed little personage Mollie looked almost dowdy.
"And I could change all that in a minute," thought Kitty. "It is just to lend her my brown hat with its plume of feathers, and the jacket which came home last week, and the deed is done. But shall I do it? Gavon already admires her too much. Now is the time for him to see the difference between us. She shall go as she is. I dare not run the risk of losing him; and he likes her—oh, I know he likes her. This day, perhaps, will settle matters; and Mollie, my darling Mollie, for my sake you must not look your best."
Aloud, Kitty said in a careless tone,—
"Very nice, indeed, Mollie. And how do I look? What do you think of your little sister?"
"How pretty your face is," replied Mollie, "and how neat your figure! Do you remember how I used to scold you long ago for not walking upright? You are very upright now."
But as Mollie spoke Kitty perceived that she had never glanced at the fashionable dress. She only saw the soul in the bright eyes and the happy smile round the lips. Gavon's voice calling them was heard from below. They ran downstairs.
When they appeared, Captain Keith glanced from one sister to the other. He was dimly conscious that a change, and that not exactly for the better, had come over Mollie, and that Kitty looked, as she always did, the perfection of charm. Nevertheless, the expression in Mollie's eyes and the tone of her voice continued to arouse that strange, delicious foreign feeling in his breast. He found that he liked to touch her hand, and that he also liked to look into her brown eyes. He was not yet aware of his own sensations. He only thought,—
"I am but tracing the extraordinary likeness and the extraordinary difference between these two girls. Of course I know Kitty's dear little phiz, and Mollie's is almost the same, feature for feature, and yet there never were any two girls who have less in common."