The New Magdalen

A THIRD rifle-shot rang through the night air, close to the cottage.

Grace started and approached the window in alarm.

"What does that firing mean?" she asked.

"Signals from the outposts," the nurse quietly replied.

"Is there any danger? Have the Germans come back?"

Surgeon Surville answered the question. He lifted the canvas screen, and

looked into the room as Miss Roseberry spoke.

"The Germans are advancing on us," he said. "Their vanguard is in

sight."

Grace sank on the chair near her, trembling from head to foot. Mercy

advanced to the surgeon, and put the decisive question to him.

"Do we defend the position?" she inquired.

Surgeon Surville ominously shook his head.

"Impossible! We are outnumbered as usual--ten to one."

The shrill roll of the French drums was heard outside.

"There is the retreat sounded!" said the surgeon. "The captain is not

a man to think twice about what he does. We are left to take care of

ourselves. In five minutes we must be out of this place."

A volley of rifle-shots rang out as he spoke. The German vanguard

was attacking the French at the outposts. Grace caught the surgeon

entreatingly by the arm. "Take me with you," she cried. "Oh, sir, I have

suffered from the Germans already! Don't forsake me, if they come back!"

The surgeon was equal to the occasion; he placed the hand of the pretty

Englishwoman on his breast. "Fear nothing, madam," he said, looking

as if he could have annihilated the whole German force with his

own invincible arm. "A Frenchman's heart beats under your hand. A

Frenchman's devotion protects you." Grace's head sank on his shoulder.

Monsieur Surville felt that he had asserted himself; he looked round

invitingly at Mercy. She, too, was an attractive woman. The Frenchman

had another shoulder at _her_ service. Unhappily the room was dark--the

look was lost on Mercy. She was thinking of the helpless men in the

inner chamber, and she quietly recalled the surgeon to a sense of his

professional duties.

"What is to become of the sick and wounded?" she asked.

Monsieur Surville shrugged one shoulder--the shoulder that was free.

"The strongest among them we can take away with us," he said. "The

others must be left here. Fear nothing for yourself, dear lady. There

will be a place for you in the baggage-wagon."

"And for me, too?" Grace pleaded, eagerly.

The surgeon's invincible arm stole round the young lady's waist, and

answered mutely with a squeeze.

"Take her with you," said Mercy. "My place is with the men whom you

leave behind."

Grace listened in amazement. "Think what you risk," she said "if you

stop here."

Mercy pointed to her left shoulder.

"Don't alarm yourself on my account," she answered; "the red cross will

protect me."