CHAPTER VII
A MODERN SIR GARETH
YESTERDAY morning, just to oblige me, Miss Crewes put on her Red Crossuniform and went out in the garden with me to let me take some snapshotsof her. Barby came out to watch us, sitting on the stone bench under theapple tree, with her knitting. I was using my last film, posing MissCrewes among the hollyhocks by the garden wall, when we heard a machinedrive up and stop out in front. The next minute Richard came dashingaround the corner of the house, bareheaded, and calling Barby in such abreathless way that I knew he had exciting news from the front.
Then he caught sight of her under the apple-tree, and came stridingacross the grass to her, his head up and his face fairly shining. As wewalked over towards them we caught parts of his sentences, "It'sDad--all banged up and in the hospital. One of the bravest things--soproud of him--it chokes me."
He didn't even see us when we joined them, for he had pulled a handfulof letters out of his pocket, and was shuffling them over to find theone that brought the news. A comrade of Mr. Moreland's had written itand his nurse added a postscript. No one thought to introduce MissCrewes and he never seemed to notice a stranger was present till hefinished reading. And then there didn't seem to be any need of anintroduction. She just held out her hand with tears in her eyes and thatwonderful light in her face which comes when she talks of sacrifice andheroism, and he gripped it as if they were old friends.
That's what they've seemed to be ever since. I think the sight of thatred cross blazing on her uniform waked him up to the fact that she isconnected in a way with the same cause his father is suffering for nowin the hospital, and that she would be in sympathy with his desire toget into the service, and possibly might be able to help him. Hecouldn't stay then, because his Cousin James was in the machine out infront, waiting for him. But he promised to come back later, said therewere a hundred questions he wanted to ask her.
It seems strange that, in the midst of hearing such a big vital piece ofnews about a real hero, I should notice a trifle like the following.When Richard took the handful of letters from his pocket and beganshuffling through them to find the one from France, I saw without beingconscious that I was staring at them, that they were all strangelyfamiliar--square and pale blue. In his excitement he dropped one, andthere on the flap of the envelope were the two long slim silver initialsthat I know so well, "E. G." I had several notes written on that samesilver and blue stationery before Esther went to Boston, though nonesince.
I wasn't conscious of counting them as he passed them from hand to hand,but I must have done so automatically, for I seem to remember as far asfive, and that it was the sixth one he dropped. He was so absorbed inthe news that he didn't realize he was making a public display ofEsther's letters, though of course nobody could recognize them but me. Ithink maybe for the moment she was so far in the background of histhoughts that she lost her importance for him.
But not so with me. Mingled with a thrill of happiness over Richard'snews, was a feeling that my faith in Esther had been vindicated. She_couldn't_ have written to him six times in seven days if she had beensacredly pledged to another. Babe Nolan is wrong for once in her life,and I shall have the joy of telling her so before this week is out. Iknow I am not putting a rainbow around Esther. It is simply that lovegives me a clearer vision than the others have--the power to see thehalo of charm which encircles her.
* * * * *
This has been such a wonderful day that I can't close my eyes until Ihave made a record of it. First, _I have seen Doctor John Wynne_! Andsecond, I've found out something about him which makes me honor andadmire him more than any man I know except Father.
Miss Crewes told us the story, but she didn't intend to tell us hisname, nurses being bound to respect a confidence. It came out quite byaccident. She was dreadfully distressed at the slip and made us promisewe'd never repeat it to a soul. It happened this way:
Richard had the machine to do as he pleased with today, Mr. Milfordbeing out of town, and he and Barby arranged a little picnic for MissCrewes. He's taken the greatest fancy to her. We started out soon afterbreakfast and drove for hours through the perfectly heavenly summermorning, stopping at each little village along the Cape as we came toit, to tack up some posters. They were posters different artists hadpainted for that French Relief entertainment, which has been postponedso many times.
At lunch time we stopped by the side of the road in the shade of a pinegrove, so close to the water that we could see the blue shining throughthe trees. It was such a fascinating, restful spot that we sat there along time after we finished our lunch.
Richard stretched out full length on the pine needles with his hat overhis eyes, and the rest of us took out our knitting. I knew he wasthinking of Esther, for presently he brought up a subject which we havediscussed several times at the Gilfreds', which she was particularlyinterested in. It's whether the days of chivalry are dead or not, and ifmen were not nobler in the days of King Arthur, when they rode forth todeeds of prowess and to redress wrongs, than they are now when theirhighest thought is making money or playing golf.
Esther always took the side that nobody nowadays measures up to theknights of the Round Table, and that she wished she could have livedwhen life was picturesque and romantic instead of in these prosaictimes. I think what she said rather rankled in Richard's mind, becauseI've heard him refer to it several times. Naturally I sided with Esther,for her arguments seemed unanswerable. Today I quoted some of them.
That is what led to Miss Crewes telling one of her experiences. She wasred-hot for the other side, and said I might name any deed of chivalrymentioned in the "Idylls of the King," and she could match it bysomething equally fine, done in this day of the world, by some man shewas personally acquainted with.
Instantly I thought of the story of "Gareth and Lynette," for that isone that Esther and George Woodson had the biggest argument over. Thepart where Gareth saves the baron's life, and when asked what reward hewould have--"_What guerdon will ye?_"--answers, "_None! For the deed'ssake have I done the deed_."
Esther once said she thought that was one of the noblest sentences inall literature. As soon as I quoted it Richard raised himself on oneelbow and then sat up straight. He could see by Miss Crewes' face thatshe had a story worth telling.
"For the deed's sake have I done the deed," she repeated to herself asif searching through her memory. Then after a moment she saidtriumphantly, "Yes, I have a Sir Gareth to more than match yours. He isa young physician just beginning to make good in his practise, and he'shad a far harder apprenticeship to win his professional spurs than everGareth served, as scullion in the King's kitchen."
Of course, it being a nurse's confidential experience, she had to tellthe story in the most impersonal way, like the censored war reports thatbegin "Somewhere in France." She began it:
"Somewhere in a little seaport where I was resting one summer," and wedidn't know till she finished it that it was Yarmouth she was talkingabout, and that it was this summer it happened, only two weeks ago, andthat she was talking about the last case she nursed, the one thatexhausted her so. She wouldn't have taken it, as she had given upregular nursing and was taking a vacation before going abroad in the RedCross service, but the doctor was a good friend of hers and seemed tothink it was a life and death matter to have her help in such a criticalcase.
The patient was a fine-looking young fellow, not much more than a boy,although they found out later he had a wife and baby down in New Jersey.All they knew about him was that he had been in that neighborhood aboutthree months, as agent for an insurance company, and was taken ill inthe house where he was boarding. It was typhoid fever and a desperatecase from the beginning. The first night they discovered why. It cameout in his delirium, in broken sentences.
He had been using the company's money, holding back the premiums in someway. Of course he always expected to replace the amounts in a shorttime, but his speculations were unfortunate and he had not succeeded
indoing so when he was taken ill. And now he was in an agony of fear,tortured by the thought of exposure and disgrace. His ravings weresomething pitiful. He kept starting up in bed, thinking the detectiveswere after him, and begging them not to arrest him--to give him one morechance.
He had a lucid interval next morning when the doctor questioned him andhe made a full confession. There was no one he could apply to for help.His own people had nothing, and the thought of his wife finding out hisdishonesty almost crazed him. Miss Crewes said it was one of the mostharrowing experiences she ever lived through. There was no place for herto go but out on the tiny balcony. She stepped through the window andsat on the railing out of sight of the bed, but she couldn't helphearing. The way she told it made us feel that we were right there withher, watching the doctor's face, and reading in it as she did thestruggle going on in his mind. He was turned so he could not see her,but she could see every expression that crossed his face.
This stranger had no claim on him whatsoever. He had gotten intotrouble through extravagance and a fast life, while what the doctor hadmanaged to save after putting himself through school had been earned bythe hardest work and most frugal living. It would take all his savingsto replace the stolen funds, and he had been piling it up, bit by bit,for a cherished purpose of his own. Why should he sacrifice it for thiscareless young fellow, who by his own confession had never deniedhimself anything? And yet, to stand back and see him go down that pathabhorred of all men to exposure and public disgrace probably would takeaway his one chance of recovery.
For a long time the doctor sat there, looking past the restless form onthe white bed to the sky-line of the little town that showed through theopen window. It was a hard decision for him to make. Finally he saidcheerfully:
"It's all right, old chap. Don't worry about it any more. I'll standbetween you and trouble. I'll send my check to the company for you thisvery day."
Then the boy broke down again, and his relief and gratitude were almostas distressing as his fear had been. Well, he died after all, thoughthey worked to the utmost to save him. There were some complications.And it was all so pitiful, the little wife's coming on with the baby tobe with him those last few days, and her frantic imploring of them tosave him, when they were already doing everything in human power. Andthe funeral and everything, and her going back home with his body. Theone thing she clung to--the only thing that comforted her--was thethought of his goodness and nobility of character, and that she mustlive to bring up her little son to be worthy of his father's memory.
She went away never knowing what she had been spared. The doctor didn'thave even her gratitude to reward him, because she didn't know what hehad done. And nobody will ever know but Miss Crewes how much he gave towipe out a stranger's dishonor and let him die with his reputationunstained. Not that he ever mentioned the matter to Miss Crewes. All sheknew was what she couldn't help overhearing. But, being old friends, hehad told her in the beginning of the summer why he was working so hardand living so frugally. He was engaged to the loveliest girl inChristendom, and expected to marry her as soon as his bank accountreached the place where he could give her the things she was accustomedto having.
"And so you see," said Miss Crewes in ending the story, "there was no_possible_ 'guerdon' for him. It was done solely, purely, for thedeed's sake."
"I'd like to know that chap," said Richard thoughtfully. Then for amoment or two there was a deep silence. It was broken by the sound of anoisy little automobile rattling down the road. As it came nearer MissCrewes recognized it and started to her feet in surprise. "Well, this isthe most remarkable coincidence that ever was!" she exclaimed. "There heis this blessed minute!"
If the man had driven on by we wouldn't have known his name, andprobably might never have discovered it. But the surprise of seeing himmade her forget that she was disclosing the identity of the hero of herstory. At sight of her he stopped his car, got out and came over towhere we were sitting, to speak to her. After a cordial greeting sheintroduced him to us. _And he was Doctor John Wynne._
My heart beat so hard that I was sure everybody must hear it. To meet inthis unexpected fashion by the roadside when I had been picturing allsorts of romantic ways! And yet it wasn't a bit strange that he shouldhappen by, for we were only a couple of miles out of Yarmouth, and hiscalls were liable to bring him along that road almost any hour of theday or night.
He is an older looking man than I imagined him to be. He has that keenX-ray gaze that doctors have when they're asking you your symptoms, andI was afraid that he'd know just by looking at me how hard my heart wasbeating, and that I'd made up all those romantic day-dreams about him.My guilty conscience made my face burn like fire. I looked away everytime he glanced at me. I'd never really expected to have him appear sounexpectedly. Fortunately he stayed only a few minutes and then was offagain in a cloud of dust.
Richard stood and looked after him till he was out of sight and thensaid slowly, "There's nothing picturesque about a rickety second-handmachine like that, and nothing heroic looking about an ordinary villagedoctor, but when it comes to a choice between them and one of your oldguys in armor, it's me for the modern knight every time."
Not till then did it dawn on Miss Crewes that she had unwittinglybetrayed a confidence. Then she felt perfectly awful about it, and saidso much that we swore over and over we'd never repeat what she told us,under any circumstance.
But I'm glad she did let it slip. So glad I know that "little JohnWynne" grew up to be that kind of a man. I wonder if the "loveliest girlin Christendom" is worthy of him. If she appreciates him as hedeserves.
Georgina's Service Stars Page 8
