ght the
strollers scattered to the four winds.

"Mrs. Service, if you please!" Demurely; at the same time extending
her hand with a faint flush. "Yes; I am really and truly married! But
it is so long since we met, I believe I--literally flew to your
arms!"

"That was before you recognized me," he returned, in the same tone.

Susan laughed. "But how do you happen to be here? I thought you were
dead. No; only wounded? How fortunate! Of course you came with the
others. I should hardly know you. I declare you're as thin as a lath
and gaunt as a ghost. You look older, too. Remorse, I suppose, for
killing so many poor Mexicans!"

"And you"--surveying her face, which had the freshness of morn--"look
younger!"

"Of course!" Adjusting some fancied disorder of hair or bonnet.
"Marriage is a fountain of youth for"--with a sigh--"old maids. Susan
Duran, spinster! Horrible! Do you blame me?"

"For getting married? Not at all. Who is the fortunate man?" asked
Saint-Prosper.

"A minister; an orthodox minister; a most orthodox minister!"

"No?" His countenance expressed his sense of the incongruity of the
union. Susan one of the elect; the meek and lowly yokemate of--"How
did it happen?" he said.

"In a perverse moment, I--went to church," answered Susan. "There, I
met him--I mean, I saw him--no, I mean, I heard him! It was enough.
All the women were in love with him. How could I help it?"

"He must have been very persuasive."

"Persuasive! He scolded us every minute. Dress and the devil!
I"--casting down her eyes--"interested him from the first. He--he
married me to reform me."

"Ah," commented the soldier, gazing doubtfully upon Susan's smart
gown, which, with elaborate art, followed the contours of her figure.

"But, of course, one must keep up appearances, you know," she
continued. "What's the use of being a minister's wife if you aren't
popular with the congregation? At least," she added, "with part of
them!" And Susan tapped the pavement with a well-shod boot and showed
her white teeth. "If you weren't popular, you couldn't fill the
seats--I mean pews," she added, evasively. "But you must come and see
me--us, I should say."

"Unfortunately, I am leaving to-morrow."

"To-morrow!" repeated Susan, reflectively. The pupils of her eyes
contracted, something they did whenever she was thinking deeply, and
her gaze passed quickly over his face, striving to read his impassive
features. "So soon? When the carnival is o