The Campfire Girls On The Field Of Honor Part 15

What I have been doing has harmed no one; at least I do not think it has, and I have not always been alone. Old Jean has been with me much of the time and has helped in every way. But by the time Tante returns I think I shall be free to tell her everything. Can't you trust me until then?"

Sally's voice and manner had suddenly changed from bravado to pleading, but Alice was too angry and too frightened to be influenced. Moreover, she was suffering from a frequent elderly sister att.i.tude. She felt herself called upon not only to examine Sally in regard to her proceedings but to condemn her without any real evidence.

"Very well, Sally, unless you decide to confide in me immediately I shall be obliged to speak to Aunt Patricia."

At the conclusion of this speech Alice beheld in her sister's face the expression of sheer unrelenting obstinacy in which Sally was an adept.

It was a contradiction to her pretty softness, her indolent manner and even to the elusive dimple which recently had vanished.

"I also warn you, Sally, that I intend to watch you and find out your proceedings for myself. In truth, I am frightened about you. If only Tante were here she could influence you, but Aunt Patricia will only become bitterly angry. I confess I don't know what she will say or do when she learns that I have no choice but to tell her."

If Alice Ashton had one characteristic which predominated over all others, it was a fine sense of honor, a high ideal of personal integrity.

As a matter of fact, she had never demanded the same standards from Sally she had asked of herself. It was a family custom to regard her younger sister as a person chiefly to be gratified and adored. Yet it had never occurred to Alice that Sally could fail in any essential thing such as straightforwardness and sincerity.

"I don't like to speak to you, Sally, or even to suggest the idea, but I am afraid a few of the girls may be criticizing what you are doing in a fashion you can scarcely imagine. They do not speak before me, but I can hardly fail to guess what they are thinking from their manner. Sally, can't you realize that we are in a foreign country where the language, the customs, the ideas are not like ours? Even if what you are doing might not be considered wrong at home, can't you see that here in France you may be misunderstood? Please confide in me dear. You promised----"

But Sally's soft shoulders stiffened in resistance.

"Evidently you do not trust me yourself, Alice, and naturally your opinion is more important to me than anyone's else. Yet when one has lived with the same people a long time one does expect a certain amount of faith and understanding. I am sorry, for I cannot tell you what you wish to know at present. I may be able to in a very few days, if you will be good enough to wait and not speak to Aunt Patricia. It is hardly worth while to make a difficulty between us! Personally I am glad Tante _is_ away; at least, I am glad she is away today, since it would have been more difficult to refuse my confidence to her than to any one else. But I shall regret it if I am able to make my confession before her return. She at least would have tried to believe I have not intended to do anything wrong. Now please leave me alone, Alice. You were right, I am going out on an important errand. You need not worry over my going alone this time, because old Jean has promised to go with me as soon as he is free and I shall wait for him."

Then, although Alice lingered for several moments longer, when Sally would neither speak to her, nor look at her, she slowly left the room.

Afterwards when Alice had disappeared Sally's pretence of courage vanished and she sat with her hands clasped tightly together while the tears ran down her face.

All very well to pretend to Alice that she was convinced she had been doing no wrong. But was this true? In the end would she not have to pay dearly in the continuing condemnation and distrust of her friends? When her confession was finally made, would they even then understand and forgive her?

CHAPTER XV

THE DISCOVERY

A little more than an hour later Sally and Jean started forth upon their mysterious pilgrimage.

To have been spared the ordeal of this morning's visit to the French chateau Sally would have given a great deal. On other occasions she had been nervous and fearful, but never to the extent to which the recent conversation with her sister had reduced her.

More than once within the hour of waiting before she and Jean could slip away, Sally concluded to abandon her plan and never go near the chateau again, regardless of results. Then she remembered that she had given her word and that upon this visit many things were to be explained and arranged. Having endured so much of struggle, strain and suspicion, one must not fail in the end. And in spite of Sally's apparent indolence and softness, failure had no part in her mental make-up.

Yet in being compelled to spend an hour of watching before daring to make her escape there was a sense of humiliation, almost of degradation.

Nevertheless, what else could she do except wait until Alice was again absorbed in her teaching and until there was no one about the farm house or in the yard who would pay any especial attention to her actions?

Sally's final misfortune was in encountering Yvonne as she pa.s.sed through the hall downstairs.

It may have been her imagination, due to her conversation with her sister. Sally felt almost convinced that Yvonne shrank away from her as she pa.s.sed, almost as if she were drawing her skirts aside. In return Sally suffered a wave of indignation and the conviction that she would never be able to forgive Yvonne. She even had an impulse some day to avenge the other girl's injustice.

She and Jean did not immediately move off in the direction of the chateau. She and old Jean took an entirely opposite direction, until in a field about half a mile away, altering their course, they walked rapidly toward the chateau. Sally never ceased to gaze behind them every few moments, fearing they might be followed.

Small wonder that with the unaccustomed walks and the burden of a serious responsibility Sally Ashton had altered in the past few weeks!

Indeed, her only solace had been the loyal faith and allegiance which the old French peasant, Jean, had given to her cause and to her.

From the first day, when in halting and broken French she had begged him to accompany her to the chateau to a.s.sist in the care of a wounded soldier, he had not asked a question or refused his services.

When it was impossible for him to escape Miss Patricia's vigilance at the hour Sally asked, she always found that he had managed to make the trip sometime later, during the day or night, and accomplished what was necessary. What he may have thought of the situation, what questions he may have asked himself behind the inscrutability of his weather-beaten countenance with its misty, coal-black eyes, Sally never inquired. There were enough problems to meet without this. The important fact was that Jean never failed her and that he made an otherwise impossible task possible.

[Ill.u.s.tration: She and Old Jean Took an Entirely Opposite Direction.]

After discovering the serious illness of the wounded soldier in hiding, Sally Ashton had continued the amazing task of caring for him at the chateau.

She did not come to this decision immediately; indeed, it had grown so slowly that at times it did not appear as a decision at all. Nor did Sally attempt to justify herself. She felt compelled to take a courageous att.i.tude with her sister, but she never had been convinced of her own patriotism or good sense. Even up to the present time she was not sure of the nationality of her patient, although it had been a relief that during his delirium he had spoken occasionally in French.

The truth is that as the days pa.s.sed on and Sally's responsibility increased her att.i.tude toward the soldier changed. At first she had been annoyed, bored with the entire adventure and with the circ.u.mstances resulting from it. But as the young man's illness became more alarming and Sally's anxiety increased, a new characteristic awoke in her. Sally Ashton belonged to the type of girl who is essentially maternal. She would be one of the large group of women who love, marry and bring up a family and are nearly always adored by their husbands, but feel no pa.s.sionate affection until the coming of their children.

So unconsciously the wounded soldier's dependence upon her for food and attention, for life itself, aroused Sally's motherly instinct, although she did not dream of the fact and would have been angry at the suggestion.

One convincing proof. In the beginning she had been both physically and mentally repelled by the soiled and blood-stained soldier and by his confused confession. She had not surrendered him to justice because she did not feel called upon to appear as the arbiter of any human being's fate and because she had not the dramatic instinct of most girls. But Sally had presumed the soldier would be arrested later and was not particularly concerned with his future one way or the other.

Now her point of view had completely altered. At first her idea was merely that the soldier should recover with no other nursing save that which she and old Jean could bestow upon him. But now that he was recovering, she was equally determined he should be saved from whatever enemy he had feared before being delivered into her hands.

Before parting on the previous afternoon Sally had agreed with her patient that they discuss his situation on her next visit to the chateau.

As the old man and girl crept cautiously inside the opening between the arch of walls, they could see their soldier lying asleep upon his mattress, but between clean sheets and covered with blankets which Sally had managed to secure from the supply at the farm.

The half-dismantled room was cold but fragrant with the odors of the woods and fields. Perhaps the fresh air which had at all times flooded the odd sick-room had been in a measure responsible for the ill man's recovery, having taken the place of other comforts he had been obliged to forego.

He opened his eyes at the approach of his two friends and looked a little wistfully at Sally.

"You have come at last! I was afraid you would not be able to manage.

How kind you have been!"

Sally made no reply except to offer him a gla.s.s of milk and to stand silently by until he had finished drinking it.

She looked very sweet. Today her walk and the excitement of her morning had tired her so that she was paler than usual; yet her lips were full and crimson and her brown hair had a charming fashion of curling in little brown rings on her forehead as if she were a tiny child.

The soldier no longer wore any look of mental confusion except that his expression was puzzled and questioning.

"You are much better. I am glad," Sally said at last. "You see I do not know how often I can come to the chateau after today, unless you should become very ill again and then I would come in any case."

Sally's direct fashion of speaking had its value amid the complexities of human relations.

Old Jean had disappeared to bring fresh water and to accomplish other tasks so that Sally and the soldier were alone for a little time.

As a matter of fact, Jean's had been the really difficult nursing. Night after night when the soldier's condition had been most critical Jean had made no pretence of going to bed, but had hobbled over at bedtime to remain until dawn by the ill man's side.

"Perhaps you will sit down for a little so that I can ask you a great many questions," the soldier suggested. "Now that I am getting back my senses, you can scarcely imagine what a mystery my present situation is."

Nodding agreement, Sally drew a beautiful French chair across the strange drawing-room and seated herself within a few feet of her patient's bed. It was odd that she had never felt any fear of the old walls tumbling down upon her from the hour she had begun her nursing, although before that time she had believed nothing could force her to trust herself inside the ruins.