CHAPTER XVI

SAD NEWS

WAR is not glorious. It is hideous! Awful! And I hope this will be the very last war till the end of the world.

It is a long time since I have written in this diary, and I must go back first to where I left off.

We had a very happy New Year's Eve. Gervas came over, but he wasn't really himself till he came up into our schoolroom and had tea with us. We were all to dine downstairs in the dining-room for a treat, even Puff, and he was nearly off his head with delight. It is funny how fond he and grandfather are of each other. If Puff can be in the same room with him, he is perfectly happy.

Well, Gervas asked to come upstairs, for Aunt Isobel was going to give him tea in the drawing-room, but I think she was rather relieved than otherwise when we carried him off with us. In spite of having been to the front, he seemed a boy to us still, and Denys is half a head taller than he is.

How we talked! Chiefly about old times when we were in our dear old Rectory home.

He chaffed Lynette, and played with Puff, and talked "shop" with Denys. Denys had only come home the day before. He was just inclined—a tiny bit—to put on airs, but Gervas stopped that by telling him of some bounders in his regiment.

"You can always tell them by their 'swank,'" he said. "They've never been gentlemen before, and don't know that the A B C of a soldier is simplicity and humility."

And then he began to tell us little interesting bits about his life at the front in the trenches.

He did not touch on the horrors, though Aylwin tried to make him. He told us nice things about the French children, and animals, and old people that they came across, and he told us of an old woman who was living in her ruined cottage, and all her bits of furniture were broken by shells, and she only had her garden left, but that was untouched. And one Sunday morning, she stripped it of all her last flowers, and took them to lay on some fresh soldiers' graves a little distance off.

"It is only my 'thank you' to the dear boys," she said to Gervas when he asked her why she had done it.

I thought it was so sweet of her!

Gervas was better. He did not cough so much. He said he hoped he would soon be well enough to go back to his regiment. But Miss Fawcett said he would have to have at least six months more leave in England, only she did not tell him that.

We talked over our Empire League, and laughed at some of our recollections. And then he told us that he had seen Captain Rogers in town.

"He seemed pretty sick—poor chap!—that he could do nothing, but I think he is getting some clerk's job at the War Office."

"I should so like to see him again," I said. "He used to be so kind to us, and it was he who put it into the boys' heads to start that Empire League."

"Yes, he asked after you all. He said he had never met such an entertaining lot as you were, either before or since his visit to Lincolnshire. I remember the same thing struck me. You all convulsed me—especially when you tried to be solemn."

"We're growing up now," I said with a sigh. "Denys has left school, and in another year or two, I shall have done with lessons."

"Don't be grown-up too soon," Gervas said, looking at me with a little smile. "I like you as you are."

"I know one thing," said Lynette in her eager impulsive way: "that I don't mean to stop having fun when I'm grown-up. It's all nonsense to be so stiff and starched! Look at Aunt Isobel! She's not able to move her head round. She's like a poker!"

So we talked away, and were quite sorry when we had to dress for dinner.

Lynette and I wore some soft white silk dresses, with black sashes, for we were still in mourning for father. The boys smartened themselves up and Denys was in his first evening dress suit. He looked awfully nice, we thought, but he had a good many pinches from us on his way downstairs.

It was a splendid dinner, but we were just a family party, except that Aunt Grisel came over and was amongst us. She seemed to make things much more lively, and grandfather was in the best of humours, so that before dinner was over we were all laughing and talking freely.

We had some games in the drawing-room afterwards, and a little music, and then we all stayed up till twelve o'clock, and went outside on the terrace and sang "Auld Lang Syne."

As we heard the stable clock strike twelve, we were very silent. And all sorts of thoughts rushed through my mind. I looked up at the stars. God seemed so near to us that it was quite easy to speak to Him, and I asked that in the coming year He would help us all to remember father's Charge.

Gervas put his hand on my shoulder and startled me.

"Come back from the clouds, Grisel. Your spirit is wanted here."

"It is here," I said with a little laugh, "but we have begun a new year already, Gervas, and it brings solemn thoughts."

Gervas looked up into the sky.

"And the clash of arms is ringing out all over the world," he said. "I sometimes feel it won't be over till the King comes into His own again."

"Oh, Gervas, do you feel that? If only it could be! If only we could believe it!"

A little thrill came into my heart. Then I said:

"It would make us get ready, all of us, wouldn't it, Gervas, if we really believed it?"

"It would indeed," he said.

And then one of the boys came up, and we said no more. But I have been thinking about the Second Coming ever since. Why don't people talk about it more? Perhaps they have forgotten that it is really bound to come.

That was a very jolly time till Denys left us again, and then the holidays soon came to an end, and lessons began, and things went on pretty well as they did before.

One day Miss Douglas came over in great delight. She had heard from Pat that he had been offered a commission in another Irish regiment. His cousin wrote to her too, and said that Pat was getting on splendidly. Everybody loved him, and he said he would make the best kind of officer, for he would win the affection and confidence of all the men.

"So my wild laddie is going to do something yet," Miss Douglas said.

But I saw she had tears in her eyes as she spoke. We were awfully glad to hear that Pat was a proper officer now. He was too good to be anything else, and he was a born leader, we all agreed. Not quite so wise as Denys, but always so lovable! I can quite imagine the soldiers being ready to die for him.

And we all wrote a round robin to him of congratulations. Then, as time went on, and country after country began to join in, and more and more soldiers and guns were wanted, and greater numbers than ever were being killed, we began almost to wish that Denys would not be in such a hurry to go.

They were pushing them through Woolwich as fast as they could—Denys thought he might be through at the end of a six months' training. And of course we all pretended to be delighted. I think grandfather really was. He was proud of Denys at last; he saw what a fine fellow he was, and he liked to think that he would have a grandson fighting at the front.

It was just before Easter; Miss Garton had gone home, and Aylwin had come back again. I shall never forget the day. It was wild and stormy. The sea was booming and roaring, and dashing over the rocks on the beach with a sound like thunder. We were all in the schoolroom. Aylwin and Lynette were making a small model of a flying machine. Aylwin is still wild over air-ships. Puff was making a scrap-book for soldiers in hospital, and I was sitting upon the window-sill knitting a pair of mittens for Pat, and singing softly almost under my breath:

"Land of our birth, our faith, our pride, For whose dear sake our fathers died; Oh, Motherland! we pledge to thee Head, heart, and hand through the years to be!"

Suddenly the door opened, and Aunt Isobel walked in.

I saw at once that something had happened. She looked quite agitated, quite unlike her calm cool self.

"Your grandfather has heard from Miss Douglas on the telephone," she said. Then she stopped as if she couldn't go on.

"Something about Pat!" I gasped, and jumped down from my perch, and let my knitting drop on the floor in my excitement.

"Yes," Aunt Isobel said, speaking very quietly now. "She has had bad news. He was killed yesterday. I thought I had better come and tell you."

Then she turned to the door, and left the room, but Lynette dashed after her.

I was literally stunned. I stood staring at the machine Aylwin was making, wondering if I were in a dream.

Pat! Jolly, laughing, reckless Pat! Pat, with his mischievous blue eyes, and brilliant smile, and curly head, lying dead and cold and still! I could not, would not believe it. There was a mistake. He could not go out of our life so suddenly. It must be another of the same name. Oh, it couldn't be Pat, he was too full of life, too young to be taken away like this!

Why did not Aunt Isobel come back and say she had made a mistake!

Aylwin sat looking at me with a white, horrified face. Puff was the only one of us who took it quietly.

"Poor dear Pat!" he said, shaking his head sadly. "I liked Pat, and now he's gone just like father!"

Then I fled to my room. I could not stand being with the others. I flung myself on my bed and sobbed and sobbed, until I was exhausted.

Then Lynette crept in. She had been crying too, for her eyes were very red.

"I think it was horrid of Aunt Isobel to go off like that! But I made her tell me all she knew. Miss Douglas had only just had a wire from the War Office saying they regretted to tell her that Pat was killed yesterday. Oh, Grisel, isn't it awful? I somehow never thought that anybody belonging to us would be killed. It was bad enough to see Gervas after his gas poisoning, but it is impossible to believe that Pat is dead! Now I feel that Denys will be killed too, directly he goes out. It's horrible! Why doesn't God strike the Kaiser dead, or swallow the Germans up with an earthquake, or do something to stop this cruel war!"

"Oh, do be quiet," I said; "and go away and leave me alone. You never stop chattering."

"It's no good to be cross. Aylwin is writing to Denys about it, and Puff has run off down to grandfather. I've nobody to talk to. Lying on your bed and crying won't bring Pat back. Do talk to me, Grisel, and say something nice. I'm perfectly miserable!"

I got off my bed. It was no good being selfish. I washed my face, and then sat down by the window, and looked out at the storm.

"I'm glad it is raining and blowing like this," I said. "At any rate, the weather does not mock at us. I should hate it to be a bright sunny day."

Lynette came and sat down by me.

"Grisel," she said in a low voice, "you wouldn't call Pat a good boy exactly, would you?"

I didn't answer for a moment, then I said stoutly:

"Lynette, I have prayed for Pat twice every day since he went out. I don't believe God would be deaf and not hear me. And you know what Pat said in his first letter to me. I showed it to you."

"Get the letter and read it again," said Lynette.

I took it out of a little box I keep my treasures in; I had read it many times myself, but I read it to Lynette again.

And we both felt comforted by it. He said he was trying to "hold fast" and read his Testament every day. That was a good deal for him to say.

"I wish—I wish we knew more about him," I said. "It seems so awful to have him die, and be buried out there just with a lot of others, and nobody belonging to him to be there."

"I hate this war," said Lynette, stamping her foot. "It ought to be stopped."

"We used to talk a good deal about sparing and sending those we loved to fight," I said. "But it was easy to talk; it's different now we have to do it. And Pat has died for his King and country. He is a hero. He couldn't do more. And if Denys dies too, we must be glad and willing, Lynette, about it."

"We never could be glad," said Lynette; "that's all humbug."

"Then we are not true patriots," I said, "and all our Empire League teaching goes for nothing. We must be glad, Lynette. If we lose Denys and Aylwin and Puff and have no brothers left, you and I must be willing, and say: 'Thank God they went to the front! Thank God we never kept them back, or darkened their last hours at home by tears and reproaches!'"

I had worked myself up by this time to a proper spirit for an English girl.

Lynette stared at me.

"Now you're in heroics!" she said. "You're trying to talk like a book. You don't really feel like that, you're only pretending!"

"Perhaps," I said, feeling in my heart that what she said was true, "perhaps if we go on pretending, we shall make it real. We have got to make ourselves brave citizens, Lynette. If we don't, we shall never be able to inspire boys and men to go and fight."

"We can be brave," said Lynette, "but we can't be glad that Pat is dead; you're not glad. You would be inhuman if you were! And we aren't acting before an audience, Grisel, so you may just as well be natural. You know quite well that you can't be glad about Pat!"

And I knew she was right. I never could be glad. I felt that I should never be happy again, with dear, merry Pat gone away from us, and if we lost Denys, there would be nothing left to live for.

For the next few days we hoped and hoped that we should hear something, but any news that came was only to say that somebody else was killed or wounded.

Peggy heard that a nephew of hers was killed, and a son of cook's was wounded, and a cousin of one of the housemaids a prisoner, and down in the village there were three different families mourning for a soldier belonging to them. I used to be so fond of Easter, but now it all seemed a mockery until we began to think of the end of the world and all the dead coming to life; then that seemed to cheer us up a little.

And then, a week later, Miss Douglas came over with letters. She and Aunt Isobel are great friends, and she always comes to show her and tell her everything. But she knew how fond we all were of Pat, and how much he was with us before he went away, so I was not a bit surprised when I was sent for to the drawing-room.

Miss Douglas kissed me when I came in, and Aunt Isobel left us and went away. I think that was very nice of her, for it is always easier for two to talk than three. Aunt Isobel had heard from Pat's Irish cousin and the colonel of his regiment and from a nurse at the base hospital. The colonel said he was one of the most promising of his young officers, and there wasn't a single man in his regiment who did not love him.

That we knew already. The colonel said that they were storming a trench, and had a terrific fire poured into them from the enemy's guns. The captain and senior subalterns were all shot, and the men wavered, and in another moment would have retreated in a panic when Pat rallied them, and led them on triumphantly. They got the trench from the Germans, and Pat was hit just when the fighting was over. That seemed so sad. But I suppose he had done his work—and then was taken.

The colonel said he had never seen Pat without a smile on his face. His cheery spirit had kept them all heartened up even on the blackest days. And then his cousin wrote, for he had discovered one of the stretcher-bearers who carried him to hospital. Pat knew he was dying. He asked them twice to put him down and take up some others who might have a chance, but they wouldn't listen to him. He was unconscious when they got him to hospital. He was shot through both lungs. But just before he lapsed into unconsciousness, he murmured, with his bright smile, "Rather dull work for you fellows—ever so much obliged to you. You've carried me A1."

Then the nurse wrote, and before she read her letter, Miss Douglas put a little parcel into my hand.

"It's for you, Grisel. It's the little book come back to you which you gave him."

I took it in my hand, struggling with my tears. The nurse's letter was the nicest of all. I'm sure she must be a good woman. She said that his patience and sweetness were miraculous. He lived for four hours after she had got him to bed. But he couldn't talk much. This was the message he gave her:

"Tell Grisel—first leaf in Testament—made good to me. And I've found the Hand to H.F. to."

He sent his love to his aunt, and then he turned his head on his pillow and "just fell asleep," said the nurse.

I was crying fast as Miss Douglas read this to me.

"What did the dear boy mean by the 'first leaf?'" she asked me.

I opened the little Testament and showed it to her. It had a horrid stain upon it, and I knew what the stain meant, but I read the verse out loud:

"'I the LORD have called thee in righteousness, and will hold thine hand, and will keep thee!'"

"And what did he mean by 'H.F.'?" she asked.

"Hold fast," I said, choked by my sobs.

Miss Douglas cried with me.

"I never taught him to be religious," she said. "I couldn't get hold of him. I don't know how he learnt it."

"God taught him," I said.

And I'm perfectly certain God did, and, though I was so sad, a joyful feeling came into my heart that God had listened to, and answered, my prayers. It made me feel I could and would pray for anybody and everybody now. God was so very very good to listen to me.

When Miss Douglas went away, I went upstairs and told Lynette all about it, and we cried again together, and I wrapped up the dear little Testament and put it into my treasure box with Pat's letter, and I shall keep them both there till I die.

* * * * *

I can't go on with this diary any more. Somehow or other the war seems to stop us from doing so many things.

And to-day Denys has left us for France. He came down in khaki looking so brave and handsome. He had only twenty-four hours' leave. I know I shall never have a happy moment till he is home again. But oh, I am so certain and so glad that he is ready for whatever may happen to him.

Pat's death has sobered us. We should have sent Denys off with shouts of laughter and cheers before, quite expecting him to come back with the V.C. Now we know that he may never return; and Denys knows it too.

"Grisel," he said, as he kissed me good-bye in the porch—I was standing behind the others—"Grisel, if I share Pat's fate, you'll know I shall be quite willing. I hope I may be spared to fight the whole war through, but if I'm not, you'll see that Aylwin takes my place as soon as he can. He's only a year behind me."

"Oh, Denys—I do hope you will be kept safe. But I know it will be all right, and that you will H.F. to the last."

Denys smiled. As he drove off we gave him three cheers—and grandfather joined us.

Denys waved his cap in the air, and then he did—what only Lynette and I understood. He held up his left wrist and gripped it with his right.

And we knew that he was telling himself and us to keep father's Charge.

FINIS