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The Tin Soldier, a novel by Temple Bailey |
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BOOK ONE _ ON THE SHELF - CHAPTER XI. HILDA WEARS A CROWN |
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_ BOOK ONE _ ON THE SHELF - CHAPTER XI. HILDA WEARS A CROWN At two o'clock on Thanksgiving morning the light burned low in the General's room. Hilda, wide awake, was reading. Derry stopped at the door. She rose at once and went to him. "Is he all right, Miss Merritt?" "Yes. He's sound asleep." "Then you think he's better?" "Much better." "Good. I hope you can stay on the case. Dr. McKenzie says it is all because of your splendid care of him. I just left McKenzie, by the way. I took him and his daughter to the ball at the Willard. We had a corking time." Her eyes saw a change in him. This was not the listless Derry with whom she had talked the day before--here were flushed cheeks and shining eyes--gay youth and gladness--. "A corking time," Derry reiterated. "The President was there, and his wife--and we danced a lot--and--" he caught himself up. "Well, good-night, Miss Merritt." "Good-night." She went back to the shadowed room. Bronson, following Derry, came back in a half hour with a dry, "Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Merritt?" and then the house was still. And now Hilda was alone with the old man in the lacquered bed. There would be no interruptions until morning. It was the moment for which she had waited ever since the hour when the General had sent her into his wife's room for a miniature of Derry, which was locked in the safe. The suite which had belonged to Mrs. Drake consisted of three rooms--a sitting room, a bedroom and a sun-parlor which had been Derry's nursery. Nothing had been changed since her death. Every day a maid cleaned and dusted, and at certain seasons the clothes in the presses were brushed and aired and put back again. In a little safe in the wall were jewels, and the key was on the General's ring. He had given the key to Hilda when he had sent her for the miniature. His fever had been high, and he had not been quite himself. Even a nurse with a finer sense of honor might have argued, however, that her patient must be obeyed. So she knew now where his treasure was kept--behind a Chinese scroll, which when rolled up revealed the panel which hid the safe. Hilda had never worn a jewel of value in her life. She possessed, it is true, a few trinkets, a gold ring with her monogram engraved in it, a string of Roman pearls, and a plain wrist watch. But such brilliance as that which met her startled eyes when she had first looked into the safe was beyond anything conceived by her rather limited imagination. She opened the door between the rooms quietly, and went in, leaving a crack that she might hear any movement on the part of her patient. She crossed the sitting room in the dark. Reaching the bedroom she pulled the chain of the lamp, then set a screen to hide any ray of light which might escape. The room was furnished with a feeling for delicate color--gold and ivory--Japanese prints--pale silks and crepes--a bit of jade--a cabinet inlaid with mother-of-pearl. But Hilda's eyes were not for these. Indeed, she knew nothing of their value, nothing, indeed, of the value of the Chinese scroll which so effectually hid the panel in the wall. Within the safe was a large velvet box, and several smaller ones. It was from the big box that Hilda had taken the miniature, and it contained also the crown which she yearned to wear. She called it a crown! It was a tiara of diamonds, peaked up to a point in front. There was, also, the wide collar of pearls with the diamond slides which had been worn by the painted lady on the stairs. In the smaller boxes were more pearls, long strings of them; sapphires like a midnight sky, opals, fire in a mist; rubies, emeralds--. They should have been locked in a vault at the General's bank, but he had wanted nothing taken away, nothing disturbed. Yet with that touch of fever upon him he had given the key to Hilda. She took off her cap and turned in the neck of her white linen gown. The pearl collar was a bit small for her, but she managed to snap the three slides. She set the sparkling circlet on her head. Then she stood back and surveyed herself in the oval mirror! Gone was the Hilda Merritt whom she had known, and in her place was a queen with a crown! She smiled at her reflection and nodded. For once she was swayed from her stillness and stolidity. She loaded her long hands with rings, and held them to her cheeks; then, struck by the contrast of her white linen sleeve, she rummaged in one of the big closets, and threw on the bed a drift of exquisite apparel. The gowns were all too small for her, but there was a cloak of velvet and ermine. The General's wife had worn it to the White House dinner over the gown in which she had been painted. Hilda drew the cloak about her shoulders, and laughed noiselessly. She could look like this, and she had never known it! But now that she knew--! There was the soft click of the telephone in the General's room. Fearful lest the sound should waken her patient, she tore off the tiara, turned up the neck of her dress to hide the shining collar, dropped the cloak, pulled the chain of the lamp, then sped breathless to the shadowed room. Dr. McKenzie was at the other end of the wire. "I am coming over, Hilda." "You need not,"--her voice was a whisper--"he is sound asleep." "I want to see you for a moment. It is very important." She hesitated. "It is very late." "Has young Drake arrived?" "Yes. He has gone to bed." "I'll be there in ten minutes. You can meet me downstairs." The General stirred. "Miss Merritt." She hung up the receiver and went to him at once. "Has the Doctor come?" "No. But he has just telephoned. He will be here shortly." His sick old eyes surveyed her. "I never saw you before without your cap--" "No." "You are very pretty." She smiled down at him. "It is nice of you to say it." "Don't wear your cap again, I don't like uniforms for women." "But when I am on duty I must wear it. You know enough of discipline to understand that I must." "Yes. But women don't need discipline, God bless 'em." His old eyes twinkled. "Has Derry come in?" "Yes, and gone to bed. He asked after you." "And it's Thanksgiving morning?" "Yes." "And no turkey for me. But you'll get me a glass of wine?" "I'm not sure. I'll ask the Doctor." She sat beside him until he again dozed. Then made her way once more to the room where the lovely gowns were piled high on the bed, and the jewels sparkled on the dressing-table. Quickly and noiselessly she put them in place. Then she tried to take off the collar, but the snaps held. She tugged and pressed, but with no result. She was afraid to pull too hard lest she break the snaps. At last she was forced to button the collar of her linen gown above it. She smoothed her hair and put on her cap. The room as she surveyed it showed no sign of her occupation. She put out the light and returned to her patient. She was at the front door to let the Doctor in when he arrived. "The General is awake, and wants to see you. I'll come down when you go, and we can talk." As they entered the shadowed room together, the old man opened his eyes. "Hello, McKenzie. Nurse, what made you put on your cap? I don't like it." "I shouldn't dare leave it off when the Doctor's here." "Does she have to take your orders or mine, McKenzie?" "Mine," smiling; "that's one of the perquisites of my profession, to have all the nurses under my thumb." "Don't you try to please your patients?" "Yes." "Then tell her to leave off her cap." He began to cough. The Doctor bent over him. Hilda helped to make the old man comfortable. When at last the General drifted into slumber, the two went down together. The hall clock pointed to four. They stood at the foot of the great stairway. From the landing the painted lady smiled at them. "Hilda, I am going to France." She expressed no surprise. "When did you make up your mind?" "In a sense it is not made up. I think I am waiting for you to confirm my decision. They want me at the head of a hospital staff, to deal with cases of shock. I should like to have you in charge of my nurses." She meditated. "I am not sure that I care to go." He showed his surprise. "I understood that if I went, you would go--" "I don't think I said that." "Perhaps not. But it didn't occur to me that you would back out." His voice showed the irritation of a man balked in the thing he wants. "I haven't backed out. I don't know what I want to do. I have to think it over." He ran his fingers through his hair. "What made you change your mind?" "I like to be comfortable. And it isn't comfortable over there." "For Heaven's sake, Hilda--don't make yourself out as selfish as that." "I am not any more selfish than other people, but I am honest. I don't go around deceiving myself with the idea that if I go I shall be doing something wonderful. But you--that's why you are going--to be wonderful in your own eyes, and Jean's eyes and in the eyes of the world." "I don't think it is that," he said soberly. "I hope not. I have tried to see straight. I sometimes think it is you who are seeing crooked, Hilda." They faced each other squarely. Her chin was slightly lifted. He caught the gleam of jewels at her throat. "Hilda," he said, sharply, "where did you get those diamonds?" Her hand flew up to them. She was not in the least disconcerted. "I might as well tell you. They belonged to the General's wife. I didn't have anything to do tonight, so I've been trying them on. There isn't any harm in that, is there?" "It's rather dangerous," slowly; "why didn't you take the collar off?" "The snap caught just as you came, and I couldn't unfasten it." "Did the General know that you tried them on?" "Of course not. He was asleep." "Bend your head down, and let me look at the snap." She leaned towards him, bringing her neck against his hand. The little curls of bright hair sprang up towards his fingers as he worked at the obstinate catch. But he did his work steadily, and as she straightened up again, he dropped the collar into her hand. "If you will take my advice," he said, "you won't do a thing like that again. People might not understand." "You mean that they might think I had stolen it? I am not a thief, Doctor--" "Of course not. Do you think you have to tell me that? And are we quarrelling, Hilda?" She swung back to her normal calm. "I am tired and cross--" "I know you are tired. I hope the day nurse will relieve you. I can get two nurses, and let you off entirely." She shook her head. "I'll stay here. I am interested in the case. And I want to see it through. By the way, he has asked again for wine." "He can't have it, I told you. You must say that my orders are strict." He held out his hand. "Then you won't go to France with me?" "Let me sleep on it,"--her fingers were firm on his own--"and don't scold me any more." "Did I scold?" "Yes." "I am sorry." She smiled at him. The slow smile which transformed her. "I'll forgive you. Call me up in the morning, please." She let him out, and went silently up the stairs. The General was again awake. "I want to talk," he told her; "take off your cap, and sit where I can look at you." He was still feverish, still not quite responsible for what he might say. She sat with the light falling full upon her. She never made an unnecessary movement, and her stillness soothed him. She was a good listener, and he grew garrulous. At last he spoke of his wife. "Sometimes I think she is here and I find myself speaking. A little while ago, I thought I heard her moving in her room, but when I opened my eyes you were bending over me. Sometimes I seem to hear her singing--there is never a moment that I do not miss her. If I were good enough I might hope to meet her--perhaps the Lord will let the strength of my love compensate for the weakness of my will." So on and on in the broken old voice. Bronson came at six, and Hilda went away to have some sleep. While the General drowsed she had put the collar safely away behind the Chinese scroll. As she passed through the hall, she stopped for a moment at the head of the stairs. The painted lady smiled at her, the painted lady who was loved by the old man in the shadowed room. No, Hilda was not a thief. Yet as she stood there, in the cold dawn of that Thanksgiving morning, she had it in her mind to steal from the painted lady things more precious than a pearl collar or an ermine cloak or the diamonds in a crown! _ |
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