"You!" she exclaimed, in a tone of blank astonishment.
The nurse rose slowly to her feet. Grace's expression of surprise
told her plainly--almost brutally--that her confession had gone
far enough.
"I astonish you?" she said. "Ah, my young lady, you don't know
what rough usage a woman's heart can bear, and still beat truly!
Before I saw Julian Gray I only knew men as objects of horror to
me. Let us drop the subject. The preacher at the Refuge is
nothing but a remembrance now--the one welcome remembrance of my
life! I have nothing more to tell you. You insisted on hearing my
story--you have heard it."
"I have not
heard how you found employment here," said Grace, continuing the
conversation with uneasy politeness, as she best might.
Mercy crossed the room, and slowly raked together the last living
embers of the fire.
"The matron has friends in France," she answered, "who are
connected with the military hospitals. It was not difficult to
get me the place, under those circumstances. Society can find a
use for me here. My hand is as light, my words of comfort are as
welcome, among those suffering wretches" (she pointed to the room
in which the wounded men were lying) "as if I was the most
reputable woman breathing.
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