A Sister of the Red Cross: A Tale of the South African War. Meade L. T.
sleep; I won't wake you if you happen to be asleep. The doctor says it is not necessary."
Aylmer closed his eyes and lay still. In a few minutes he moved fretfully, and said in a voice full of pain, —
"That horrible torture is beginning again. You must give me some of the opiate."
Keith rose immediately, took the smaller bottle of medicine, went into the anteroom, and poured out very carefully a teaspoonful, which he brought to Aylmer. Aylmer took it and lay still. In about a quarter of an hour he called out, —
"Keith, are you there?"
"Yes; what's up?"
"The pain is no better. It grows intolerable – I cannot endure it. I must have a second dose at once. Make it a little larger – do, like a good fellow – a dessertspoonful."
"I can't possibly do it, Aylmer. The doctor said that you were not to have this special medicine oftener than once an hour, and it is not a quarter of an hour since you had the last dose. You shall have a second after an hour is up. Now stay quite still, and then perhaps the pain will go off!"
Aylmer lay as still as he could, but the dew on his forehead and the pallor of his drawn face showed the agony through which he was living. His restless hands began plucking at the bed-clothes. Keith suddenly took one, and imprisoned it in both his own.
"My mother used to say that I had the hand or a mesmerist," he said. "Let me mesmerize you now. I will that pain goes."
Aylmer smiled. His blue eyes grew full of gratitude.
"There never was any one like you, Keith, old man," he said. "Whatever happens, I'd like you to know – I'd like you to know what I feel – I mean my gratitude to you. Keith, I believe I'd have gone to the dogs but for you, old fellow. But now – "
"Don't talk, Aylmer; you have to live a long life and prove your words."
"Oh, this agony!" cried the poor boy. "Keith, I don't believe I'll ever get better. Will you send for the doctor again? I know I am much worse."
"I will give you your opiate again at the end of an hour," said Keith, "and then, if you are not better, I will send for Armstrong. But, remember, he expected these paroxysms at intervals. He thought you going on nicely when he saw you at nine o'clock."
"I am worse now – much worse."
Keith suddenly rose.
"Why, it is time for your other medicine," he said; "perhaps you will feel easier after you have taken it."
Keith now crossed the room to the little table, took up the larger bottle, and went into the anteroom. He poured out a full dose of two tablespoonfuls, and brought the medicine in a glass to Aylmer. Aylmer drank it off, uttering a sigh as he did so.
"It doesn't taste quite the same," he said, "but – " His voice dropped away into a drowsy monotone. "You were quite right," he remarked in a minute: "the pain is dulled – I am beautifully sleepy. Don't disturb me, please."
"Certainly not. Go to sleep now; I am close to you."
Keith sat for some time motionless by the sick man's side. He knew by the gentle breathing that Aylmer had dropped into profound slumber. Presently he moved into an arm-chair, stretched himself out, and closed his eyes. Without intending it, he dropped off himself into sleep. During that sleep he had terrified dreams that Aylmer was calling him, and that Strause was preventing his going to him. At last he started up, his heart beating very fast.
"Did you call, Aylmer?" he said in a low voice, and yet loud enough to be heard in case the sick man was awake.
There was no reply. Startled by the stillness, Keith rose to his feet and went to the bedside.
"He is sleeping very quietly indeed," thought Keith; "I cannot even hear him breathe."
Then his own heart began to beat in an irregular, nervous fashion; a cold fear took possession of him. He went into the anteroom, struck a match, lit a candle, and brought it to the bedside. One glance showed him that Aylmer was dead.
Such a sudden termination to a young life caused a good deal of excitement in the regiment, and Keith was so knocked up that he was unable to attend to his duties for a day or two. The doctor expressed no surprise, however, at the sudden ending of the disease. A death certificate was duly given, and a few days afterwards Major Strause followed his young relative to his grave. The other officers of the regiment also followed Aylmer to his last resting-place; but Keith was still suffering from a queer, nervous seizure, which had come to him when he had found his charge dead.
"I can never forgive myself for falling asleep as I did," was his thought. "Perhaps if I had been wide awake and on the alert I might have been able to give the poor fellow a stimulant, and so have saved his life."
After his death Aylmer's will was read, and it was found that he had left Gavon Keith ten thousand pounds. The rest of his money went to different charities, with the exception of a few legacies to old servants of his father's. Major Strause's name was not mentioned at all. This was the will made by Aylmer when he had been three months in the regiment. A few of his brother officers expressed surprise when they heard that Keith had got so large a legacy. He was congratulated on all sides, however, for he was a prime favourite.
A fortnight went past, and one afternoon Major Strause went to see Keith. Keith was better, although he still looked pulled down, and his face was white.
"Well," said Strause, "glad to see you looking more like yourself."
"Yes; I am pulling round at last," replied Keith. "I cannot think why I gave way in this beastly fashion."
"It was a shock. No wonder," said Strause. "You know, of course, what a lucky chap you are? Ten thousand pounds to the good! It is worth having a small shock in such a cause."
Keith did not reply.
"Are you dumb, man?" said Strause, in some annoyance. "You have heard of the legacy?"
"I have. I wish in all conscience that he had not done it."
"Gammon!" was Strause's rude remark.
Keith flushed, and walked to the window. He wished that Strause would leave him. Strause, however, had no intention of doing so.
"There's something I want to say to you," he remarked now, pulling a chair forward, dropping into it, and lowering his voice. "I did not like to tell you before. At present the fact is known only to myself. Whether it goes further remains with you."
"What do you mean?"
"I will explain. Keith, an ugly thing happened in connection with Percy Aylmer's death."
Keith drew himself up very stiffly. He looked full at the major.
"I don't understand you," he said.
"You will soon, if you listen. Of course it was an accident, and a deplorable one, but you, Keith, gave that poor lad the wrong medicine."
"Oh, horror!" cried Keith. He sprang to his feet. A terrible weakness seized him; his head seemed to go round; he clutched a chair to keep himself from falling. "What do you mean?" he added.
"What I say," answered Strause, who read these signs of agitation with pleasure. "It happens that I am in a position to prove my words. You know I was nursing Aylmer all day until you arrived and interfered. Your interference was unwarrantable; but I say nothing of that. I had been giving Aylmer his medicines, and happened to know exactly the amount in each bottle. The alterative medicine, as it is called, had just been renewed, but the bottle containing the opiate was more than half full. The opiate was in the smaller bottle, as you know. The alterative medicine was to be given in tablespoonfuls – two tablespoonfuls to a dose. At the time I gave up my charge of Aylmer to you there were in the larger bottle five doses, but the bottle which contained the opiate was a little less than half full. Do you follow me?"
"I hear you, but I cannot imagine what you are driving at."
"You will soon know. On the morning of the death you were terribly agitated. I rushed off to the poor lad's quarters when I heard the news, and found that you had left, saying that you would be round again presently. I went to the table where the medicines