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Updated: June 25, 2025
Her tone and look showed that in her clinging way she had begun to claim the woman beside her as a special friend, while Hester Martin's manner towards her bore witness that the claim excited a warm response that intimacy and affection had advanced rapidly since George Sarratt's departure. 'Why do you put up with it? said Miss Martin, sharply.
There's sphagnum moss! Everybody up here is gathering sphagnum moss you know for bandages upon the fells. I daresay Bridget might help in that. She won't do any other sort of war-work. 'Why, I thought all women were doing some kind of war-work! 'Bridget won't. She doesn't want to hear about the war at all. She's bored with it. 'Bored with it! Good heavens! Sarratt's countenance clouded.
She often worked in the office, she said, up to midnight. All these recollections and passing visualisations of words and faces, drawn from those busy rooms a few streets off, in which not only George Sarratt's fate, but her own, as it often seemed to Nelly, were being slowly and inexorably decided, passed endlessly through her brain, as she mechanically took off her things, and brushed her hair.
Presently there were voices beneath them climbing voices that came nearer of a man and a woman. Nelly's hand begun to pluck restlessly at the grass beside her. Cicely emerged first, Cicely in white, very bridal, and very happy. Very conscious too, though she did not betray it by a movement or a look, of the significance of this first meeting, since Sarratt's death, between her brother and Nelly.
She was in terror of the German military police who used to ride over the farm, and one day, when her sons were away, she took Mr. Sarratt's uniform, his identification disk, and all the personal belongings she could find, and either burned or buried them.
'I can't remember precisely, said Bridget, after a moment. 'I don't notice the colour of people's eyes. But I'm sure they were some kind of brown. 'This man's are a greenish grey. Can you recollect anything peculiar about Lieutenant Sarratt's hands? Again Bridget paused for a second or two, and then said 'I can't remember anything at all peculiar about them.
One of the brothers, whose name was Benoit Desalles, to whom they say poor Mr. Sarratt was much attached, went with him. They must have had an awful time, walking by night, and hiding by day. Mr. Sarratt's wounds must have been in a bad state, for they were only half healed when he escaped, and they had been neglected all the winter.
However he never allowed himself any half-caress of the kind towards Nelly Sarratt now; and once or twice, in the old days, before Sarratt's disappearance, Cicely had fancied that she had seen Nelly check rather sharply one of these demonstrations of Willy's which were so natural to him, and in general so unconscious and innocent. And now he never attempted them. What did that mean?
But the spectacle of Sarratt's death, and Nelly's agony, together with her own quick divination of Nelly's inner mind, had worked profoundly on Cicely, and Marsworth had never shewn himself a better fellow than in his complete sympathy with her, and his eager pity for the Sarratts. 'I haven't the heart to tease him' Cicely had said candidly after her return to England.
He described to her also, the first signs of Sarratt's returning consciousness the excitement among his doctors and nurses the anxious waiting for the first words the first clear evidence of restored hearing. And then, at last, the dazed question 'Where am I? and the perplexed effort to answer Howson's 'Can you tell us your name and regiment?
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