The Last Signal

Chapter I

A STRANGE RECOGNITION. A grey sky and a grey-green sea, for the great waters were reflecting the sombre colouring of the clouds ; and some of their gloom seemed also to have fallen on the face of a young girl who was standing on the shore, whose lover was pleading to her to fix their wedding day. ' Oh, Sir James, that is far too soon,' she said, as the young man paused. VOL. I. A ' How can you say so, Miriam ? ' he answered. 'We have been engaged a month already now, and surely another month added to that is long enough to wait ? ' ' Most of people are engaged six months,' replied the girl with downcast eyes ; ' some people six years.' ' Six years ! What nonsense ! Why, I shall be an old man in six years.' ' And I shall be getting on to be an old woman,' said Miriam, smiling. ' Now, don't tease so, there's a darling.

Without joking, Miriam, do let us fix the time. Mrs Clyde quite agrees with me that there's no good in waiting any longer.' ' Mother is always in such a hurry about things.' ' But it's not being in a hurry to be engaged two months ; and besides, I want to take you abroad before the winter comes in earnest, and it's really quite chilly to-day.' ' Yes, it is,' and the girl gave a little shiver, and looked up at the gloomy clouds. She was tall, slim and dark - eyed, with a mobile, expressive face, and a white, swan-like throat. People, as a rule, called Miriam Clyde handsome, but she scarcely looked handsome as she stood there by her lover, beneath the darksome sky, embarrassed and unwilling to accede to his request. She was the daughter of Colonel Clyde, of the Artillery, who at this time commanded the garrison of New brough-on-the-Sea, and she was a girl who was always greatly admired.

There was a charm about her, men said, which many women, actually more beautiful, did not possess ; a charm in her manner, her grace, and in her bright and winning tongue. And she had so charmed the tall young Scotchman, Sir James Mac- Kennon, who was now standing at her side, that, after a very short ac quaintance, he had offered himself and all his worldly possessions for her acceptance. He was a baronet, well off, and of ancient family, and fairly good-looking, and both Colonel and Mrs Clyde were delighted when he proposed to their daughter, and never doubted that Miriam would be delighted also. At all events she accepted him, after a little delay which Mrs Clyde — a clever woman — accounted for by believing that her daughter made this hesitation from the innate coquetry of her heart. There were various young ladies who were by no means indifferent to the attentions of the wealthy young Scotch man, and Mrs Clyde felt inwardly assured that Miriam only wished to appear more indifferent than she actually was.

Mrs Clyde was anxious, too, that Miriam should marry well, and early, for she knew something, though not all, of a sad and secret tragedy, which had already darkened her young daughter's life. ' You have done charmingly for your self,' she said to Miriam, with a proud and happy smile, when Sir James MacKennon came down one afternoon to Newbrough-on-the-Sea, and asked to have a private, interview with Colonel Clyde, and informed him he had the great happiness to be his daughter's accepted suitor. Everyone indeed smiled on this en gagement except, perhaps, the young ladies who had smiled on Sir James. Some of these wondered what he saw in Miss Clyde, but others were more good-natured. ' She's a handsome, clever girl, in a good position, that's what he sees in her, and then her mother is, no doubt, an advantage to Miriam,' said one of these.

To be the daughter of Mrs Clyde was certainly an advantage to any girl. This lady, who was remarkably hand some, tall, stout and personable, was not only an acute woman of the world, a brilliant conversationalist, but also a writer of culture and talent. She had two daughters, one already the wife of a man high up in the Service, and Miriam. Therefore, when Miriam became engaged to Sir James Mac- Kennon, Mrs Clyde reflected with satis faction that both her children had done well. Her eldest daughter was married to a General, and her youngest about to be married to a Baronet, and so Mrs Clyde felt that her maternal duties were almost over. She, in truth, thought of many other things besides her children, and did not live only in their lives. She was sympathetic, but not absolutely tender to them, and she was sympathetic, in manner at least, to almost everyone.

So she made Sir James MacKennon very welcome at the Commandant's house at Newbrough-on-the-Sea, and charmed him by her genial, witty words. Sir James, who was in a cavalry regi ment, was stationed at Halstone, a town about ten miles distant from Newbrough-on-the-Sea, and it was at a ball at Halstone that he had first seen Miriam Clyde, and laid his warm, honest young heart at her feet. And his wish to make her his wife grew stronger each day. They had been engaged a month, when we find him pleading to her to fix their wedding day, but with a restless sigh Miriam turned away her head, and looked pensively on the wild waters of the northern sea. ' I shall be forced to go, Miriam, in a quarter of an hour,' continued Sir James, looking at his watch ; ' there's a big "at home" at the Colonel's this afternoon, and I shall be obliged to go, as he made me promise, so don't send me away without a word to cheer me.' ' How many do you want ? ' answered Miriam, now raising her dark eyes to his face with a smile. ' You know the one I want,' he answered, ardently ; ' the one little word — to name the happy day.' Miriam Clyde shook her head coyly. 'Not to-day,' she said; 'and if you are really going to Colonel Herbert's this afternoon, I do not think you have any time to spare.' The expression of Sir James's face changed. 'You are always putting me off,' he said. ' But how can we fix such a serious thing in a hurry ? ' 'If it wasn't that I had promised the Chief, I would not go at all,' answered Sir James, a little impa tiently. 'And disappoint the Miss Herberts?' smiled Miriam. ' You know very well I don't care about disappointing the Miss Herberts.

That there's only one girl that I never would disappoint, though she's always disappointing me.' Miriam Clyde gave a little laugh, and looked half shyly, half kindly at Sir James's freckled face. He was not good-looking, yet he was decidedly not plain. He was tall and stalwart, had a fine figure, in fact ; and his features, though somewhat irregular, were not unpleasing, and his expression kindly and sensible. ' Well, I suppose I must be off,' he said, unwillingly, taking Miriam's hand in his, and looking very tenderly in her face, 'and before I go, Miriam, may I have one kiss?' ' No, certainly not,' answered Miriam, quickly. ' Don't you see the firing party there ? ' and she pointed towards the long stretch of yellow sand beyond where they were standing, on which a company of red-coated soldiers were practising firing at a target. ' I forgot the firing party,' said Sir James. ' But they, I dare say, have not for gotten you,' answered Miriam, smiling ; ' it's Captain Escourt's company.

They passed me as I was coming down to the sands.' ' What kind of fellow is Escourt ? ' ' By no means brilliant, but rather good-looking.' ' Then are you going home now, or going to stay on the sands ? ' inquired Sir James. ' I shall stay out a little longer.' ' Good-bye, then, Miriam — good-bye, dear Miriam.' He pressed her hand as he spoke, and then unwillingly left her, and Miriam Clyde gave a little restless sigh when she found herself alone. ' Poor fellow,' she was thinking, and again she turned her dark eyes in dreamy fashion to the sea. She felt sorry for him ; sorry for his wasted love, and her inability to return it. Yet she liked him, and understood his character well enough to know that he deserved a better fate from her hands. ' We can't help these things,' she thought with another sigh, and then she began walking slowly, with bent head, along the sands in the direc tion of the firing party, who were, how ever, quite half-a-mile distant from her.

She kept watching the firing vaguely, and suddenly she saw the soldier who was standing near the target marking, fall. Then several soldiers from the firing party ran towards the prostrate man. An accident had evidently occurred, Miriam Clyde saw at once, and she now also ran forward, and presently met a soldier running in the direction of the village, where the barracks were situated. 'What has happened?' asked Miriam, as the man passed her. One of the men has been shot at the target, miss,' answered the soldier, saluting the commandant's daughter ; ' and I'm going for the doctor.' ' Make haste, then,' said Miriam ; and she also made haste, and presently ran up breathless to the group of soldiers, who were standing round the man lying on the sand. Captain Escourt, a slender, good-looking young man, with a weak face, stepped forward from the group when he saw Miss Clyde approaching. 'There's been an accident, I am sorry to say, Miss Clyde,' he said, addressing Miriam ; ' perhaps you had better not come any nearer, for the poor fellow is bleeding terribly.' ' But are you not trying to stop the bleeding?' asked Miriam, excitedly. 'Is no one trying to stop it ? ' ' I have sent for the doctor,' answered Captain Escourt. ' But he may bleed to death before the doctor comes,' said Miriam ; ' I know something about these things ; ' and she pushed her way through the group of soldiers, and knelt down by the one who was lying wounded on the sand. ' Break my sunshade stick in two pieces,' she said hastily to one of the soldiers, and then from her steel chate laine she unfastened a pair of scissors, and proceeded at once to cut the wounded soldier's trouser up to the part from which the blood was pouring.

He had been shot above the knee, and as soon as she had bared the wound Miriam drew out her handkerchief, and bound it tightly round the man's leg, above the wound, and then asked for one half of the stick of her sunshade, which the soldier she had requested to do so had already broken. The soldier handed her the stick, which she put between the handkerchief and the limb, and then twisted it round and round, thus tightening the bandage until the blood ceased to flow. 'Now hold it firmly as it is,' she said to the soldier who had broken the sun shade stick ; ' and someone give me another handkerchief.' Captain Escourt, upon this, produced a handkerchief, which Miriam soon bound round the man's leg below the wound, just as she had bound her own handkerchief above it, and then with the other half of the stick she so effec tively tightened the bandage that the bleeding entirely stopped. ' Has anyone a flask ? ' she now asked, glancing round. ' He will be all the better for a little brandy if he can get it' Again Captain Escourt came to her assistance, and held towards her a silver flask ; and with this in her hand Miriam rose from her knees, after directing another soldier to hold the second stick that she had twisted in the bandage in the same manner that the first soldier was doing, and then as she opened the flask she looked into the wounded man's face, whose eyes were fixed on her own with a strange, wild look of recognition and fear.

And no sooner had Miriam glanced at that pallid countenance, than she, too, grew deadly pale, and staggered back, while a faint cry escaped her whitening lips. VOL. I. B 'Miss Clyde! you are not well; this has been too much for you,' said Captain Escourt, taking hold of her arm as if to support her ; and Miriam, who a moment before had been so brave, so quick, clung to him, trembling in every limb. ' Lean on me ; let me lead you away from this,' went on Escourt. ' Do not look at the poor fellow, he's all right > now. But with a wild stare in her eyes, a stare something like a reflection of the wounded man's, Miriam still looked on the white face lying on the sand ; still clung trembling to Captain Escourt's arm. ' Here is the doctor, thank God ! ' exclaimed Escourt, a few moments later, for he really did not know what to do ; and the surgeon attached to the regiment was now to be seen approaching, accom panied by the soldier who had been sent for him.

He was a tall, fair, rather good-looking young Scotchman this doctor, and as he drew near he first thought that something must have happened to Miss Clyde, she looked so deadly pale. 'What is the matter, Miss Clyde?' he said, going up to her and taking one of her trembling hands. ' Nothing,' faltered Miriam, with her clammy lips; 'look to him,' and she pointed to the wounded soldier. ' Miss Clyde has done far too much, Reed,' said Captain Escourt; 'she has bound up the poor fellow's leg, and it has been too much for her.' 'She has probably saved his life,' muttered the young doctor. ' Come, Miss Clyde, I see Captain Escourt has a flask here ; let me pour you out a sip, and that will probably put you all right.' The doctor poured out some of the brandy, and Miriam swallowed a little, and then again pointed to the wounded man. 'Give him some,' she said, almost in a whisper, and the doctor knelt down on the sand to comply with her request. ' You have saved his life by your promptitude and courage,' he said, turning round presently to speak to Miriam Clyde, after he had examined the wound; 'one of the main arteries is shot through ; the man would have bled to death without immediate assist- > ance.

Miriam made no answer ; the brandy had revived her a little, but still she stood with that strange look of fear on her face ; still her eyes were fixed on the wounded soldier. Presently an ambulance which the doctor had ordered to be brought down from the barracks arrived, and the wounded man was lifted up and placed in it, and carried away by the soldiers ; the doctor walking by its side. Then Captain Escourt offered to escort Miriam Clyde home. ' Let me see you safely to the village,' he said, and Miriam accepted his offer. He gave the word of command to his company, and then walked behind it with Miriam. 'How did it happen?' she asked, as they went. 'The poor fellow, who is called Dare, got in the range of the fire somehow or other, but I can scarcely understand it, as he is a good soldier, though he has not joined us long ; but some of my men are terribly bad shots.' ' Do you think he will get better ? ' asked Miriam, with quivering lips. ' Oh, I daresay he will, though he lost a tremendous lot of blood in a minute or two.

It was awfully plucky of you to manage as you did, awfully ! I don't understand about these things.' ' I took some lessons at an ambul ance class,' answered Miriam, in a low tone. ' Well, you have profited by them. You did it splendidly. You heard the doctor say you had saved the man's life, for I expect he'll pull through. He's a well-built young fellow, and hand some, and ought to be eternally grateful to you for your goodness.'

Chapter II. The Soldier's Message

When Miriam, escorted by Captain Escourt, arrived at the whitewashed house in the barracks yard, where her father and mother lived, she parted with Captain Escourt at the door. ' I should like to know,' she said, as she shook hands with him, ' how the > poor man goes on. ' I'll call and let you know,' answered Escourt ; ' I am going to the hospital now to look after him. Thank you awfully for what you did for one of = my poor fellows,' and he touched his cap and turned away. Then Miriam went slowly into the house, and walked feebly to her own room upstairs. All her strength and litheness seemed suddenly to have passed away from her, and when she reached her room she sat down and covered her face with her hands. 'Oh! this is terrible, terrible,' she moaned aloud. ' What shall I do — what if he were to die ! ' She was evidently in the deepest perplexity and distress.

Presently she started to her feet, and began pacing the room with restless and uneven footsteps, and as she wandered back wards and forwards a rap came to her bedroom door. With an effort she endeavoured to compose herself, and said ' Come in ; and after having done so, the door of the room opened, and the face of her mother's maid appeared. ' Oh ! Miss Miriam, please,' said the maid, ' your mamma sent me to tell you that tea is ready and to ask you to come down.' ' Very well, I shall be down in a moment or two,' answered Miriam, tremulously. ' And they say, miss,' continued the maid, ' that one of the soldiers has been killed on the sands. Banks saw them carrying him up, and they said he was dead, poor fellow.' ' No, no,' said Miriam, in sudden excitement and visible distress ; ' not dead, surely, Ford— not dead ! ' ' Well, that's what Banks said, miss ; but it mayn't be true for all that, and perhaps he might run round to the hospital to ask ? ' ' Yes, send him, and I will wait here until he comes back.

Tell him to go as fast as he can.' Upon this Ford disappeared, and Miriam was left to her own distracting thoughts. She was in a terrible state of anxiety, and wrung her hands to gether in almost uncontrollable emotion. And for at least ten minutes this went on, and then Ford once more appeared at the room door. ' No, please, miss, he's not dead,' she said ; ' Banks saw one of the orderlies, and he says the poor fellow is still alive, though they don't expect him to last, but Dr Reed and another doctor are with him, and they are doing all they can.' And with these dismal words ringing in her ears, Miriam, a few minutes later, went down to her mother's drawing room, trying to assume a composure and courage she did not feel. Mrs Clyde was sitting before her tea-table drinking tea out of a valuable china cup.

She was a remarkable look ing woman : remarkable for the regu larity and beauty of her features, and for a certain acuteness of expression, which told to a keen observer that she was a woman of talent and tact. She looked at her daughter and smiled as Miriam entered, and in a moment perceived by the girl's face that something unusual had occurred. ' Have you been in long, my dear ? ' she asked, pleasantly. ' Not very long, mother,' answered Miriam. 'And did Sir James persuade you to fix the happy day?' she continued, still with her fine dark eyes fixed on her daughter's face. ' He came here shortly after you went out, and he seems a very eager lover, and is most anxious to have the time of your wedding fixed ; so I sent him down to you on the sands, and I suppose you saw him ? ' ' Yes, I saw him,' said Miriam, with downcast eyes. ' And is anything settled ? ' ' No, mother ; he wished to be married in a month, but I thought that was too soon. ' 3 ' My dear, is this wise ? ' ' We have been engaged such a short time — oh! it is far too soon,' said Miriam, with a touch of impatience in her tone. ' Your father and I do not think so, Miriam.' ' But, mother — ' ' Listen to me, Miriam.

Sir James is a young man, in a good position ; a young man whom very many young women would be only too glad to accept. You have been fortunate in winning ___> his affections, and I advise you not to trifle with them.' Mrs Clyde had always brought up her children to obey her, and her manner to Miriam told you this. It was quiet, but firm, as though she quite expected that her words would have due effect. She had been quiet, but firm also, when General Conray proposed to her eldest daughter Joan, then a beautiful girl of twenty ; the General being fully thirty years her senior, and a friend of her father's. But he was a wealthy man, high in the Service, and Joan Clyde was given very little choice in the matter. Her mother told her it was an excellent match for her, and one that herself and her husband heartily approved of, and that young girls of course must be guided by their parents.

So Joan married the General after shedding many tears, some in secret, and some in the presence of her firm mother, who, however, gave her no en couragement to indulge in any such weaknesses. And Joan went away with her General, who was firm also, and a rigid disciplinarian at home and abroad ; and his young wife was afraid of him, and not over happy it was said, but Mrs Clyde never allowed this. ' Poor Joan is not very strong minded,' she used to say with a smile ; 'and she needs a guiding hand, and I am glad to see that the General keeps her in order.' And one daughter, according to her ideas, being so successfully disposed of, she was by no means pleased to hear that Miriam seemed inclined to trifle with her good luck. Mrs Clyde had never sought to attract men for her daughters, knowing well that her girls were too handsome to need any efforts of that sort.

But when their wooers came she expected to be consulted, and her advice taken, and by her advice Sir James MacKennon had been accepted, and she thought Miriam was actino- <_> 33 foolishly in hesitating to fix the wedding day ' Did Sir James tell you I approved of an early marriage ? ' she asked. ' Yes, mother ; but please don't talk of it any more just now — such a dreadful thing has happened to-day since I saw Sir James. One of the poor soldiers has been shot on the sands.' ' That is terribly sad. How did it happen ? ' ' Captain Escourt's company were prac tising firing at a target, and this poor man was marking, and I suppose was accidently shot' Miriam's voice faltered against her will as she made this explanation, and her mother looked at her somewhat curiously. 'You seem quite upset, Miriam, by this accident ; did you see it ? ' vol. i. c 'Yes, mother, I saw it, and I believe the poor soldier would have bled to death before Dr Reed came, for Captain Escourt did not seem to understand what to do, but, as I had gained some knowledge from the ambulance classes last year, I helped to stop the bleeding until the doctor came.' Again the girl's voice faltered, and Mrs Clyde noticed this, and that her daughter's oval cheeks were very white. ' I am glad you were able to be of some use,' she said ; ' but you look quite pale, my dear, and I fear this has been a little too much for you.

Have a cup of tea, Miriam, and it will revive you.' So Miriam drank the tea, and when she was doing so her mother once more returned to the subject of fixing the wedding day. ' When is Sir James coming again ? ' she said. ' He said something about to-morrow, or the next day,' answered Miriam, un easily. ' Then I shall see him,' said Mrs Clyde, calmly. ' I do not approve of long engagements, and, of course, about these things young girls must be guided by the advice of their parents.' She had said almost the very same words to Joan Clyde when General Conray had been anxious to fix his wedding day, and she had carried her point then, and she meant to carry it now. She was a determined woman, with her quiet manner and her placid smile. And Miriam knew this, and grew a little paler as she sat there drinking her tea.

But any further conversation on the point was now interrupted by the soldier-servant Banks opening the room door and announcing— ' Captain Escourt' With a charming smile Mrs Clyde held out her white and shapely hand to wel come him. 'You have just come in time for tea,' she said. ' But what is this sad accident Miriam has been telling me about. Captain Escourt ? ' ' About the poor fellow who was shot on the sands,' answered Captain Escourt. ' It's an awful bad business, but Reed thinks he will pull him through.' ' Oh ! I am so glad. Colonel Clyde would be so distressed if anything serious were to happen to any of the men under his command,' said Mrs Clyde, graciously. ' And he is one of your company, is he not ? ' ' Yes ; and a very good soldier, too. It seems it was a blundering fool called Smith who fired the shot that hit him, for Dare was, I believe, not out of his position.

If Dare dies, Smith ought to be hanged, in my opinion.' ' Let us hope that Dare will not die then. Of course the other man will be punished ? ' ' Yes, there will be a court - martial held on him ; but I called to tell Miss Clyde how Dare is going on, as she was kind enough to wish to hear. You ought to be proud of your daughter, Mrs Clyde, though I dare say you always are.' 'And why should I be especially proud of her to-day?' asked Mrs Clyde, looking smilingly at Miriam's pale face. ' Because she behaved so splendidly, so pluckily. Dare would have been dead by this time if Miss Clyde had not contrived to stop the bleeding, for one of the main arteries was shot through, Reed says. But I should not talk thus ; you must forgive me, Miss Clyde, for I am making you quite white.' ' I think Miriam is a little upset,' said Mrs Clyde. ' But not at the time ; not when she could be of use ; she was as brave and as calm as any surgeon could be,' answered Captain Escourt.

He admired Miriam Clyde, as many other men admired her ; admired her grace and beauty, and a certain dignity also in her manner which was unusual in so young a girl. But Mrs Clyde, though she was always gracious to them, did not encourage the attentions of young officers of no especial means, and the young officers were quite con scious of this fact. She was very charming to them, but still she made them quite under stand that they were to have no intimate friendships with her daughter. Therefore she was pleased when Colonel Clyde, her husband, entered the room and began talking to Captain Escourt, thus diverting his attention from Miriam. Colonel Clyde was a very tall, thin man, with white hair and white moustache and whiskers, and a bronzed, lined face. His wife had much influence over him, for her intellectual powers far exceeded his, though she was quite clever enough to disguise this fact from his knowledge, though everyone else of their acquaintance knew it.

He was a good soldier, brave, and somewhat stern, but respected by officers and men alike. He was fond of his children, but, like their mother, not very tender in his manner to them. Here his wife's influence came in. She would not allow him to spoil the girls, she said, and Miriam stood a little in awe of her father. Nevertheless, when Captain Escourt had repeated his story about the wounded soldier, and told how brave and clever Miriam had been, the Colonel's face relaxed into a kindly smile, and he laid his hand on her shoulder. <_> 41 ' I am glad to hear this, my girl,' he said ; ' glad that a soldier's daughter could be of some little service to a soldier in his need.' ' I did very little, father,' answered Miriam. ' But the very little did some good it seems,' continued Colonel Clyde. ' I must go and see the poor fellow by and-by ; thank you for coming to tell me about it, Escourt.' At this moment the drawing-room and the soldierdoor again opened, servant announced, — ' Dr Reed.' ' Ah, Reed,' said tending his hand ; ' poor patient getting man who has been on the sands.' the Colonel, ex and how is your on ?