, he knew that he could still preserve her memory
from stain by keeping her secret, even though its divulgings might clear
his own. For that reason, he had even hesitated to inform Susy of
her death, in the fear that, in her thoughtless irresponsibility and
impulsiveness, she might be tempted to use it in his favor. He had made
his late appointment a plea for her withholding any present efforts to
assist him. He even avoided the Boompointers' house, in what he believed
was partly a duty to the memory of his wife. But he saw no inconsistency
in occasionally extending his lonely walks to the vicinity of a foreign
Legation, or in being lifted with a certain expectation at the sight
of its liveries on the Avenue. There was a craving for sympathy in his
heart, which Miss Faulkner's letter had awakened.

Meantime, he had reported himself for duty at the War Department--with
little hope, however, in that formality. But he was surprised the next
day when the chief of the bureau informed him that his claim was before
the President.

"I was not aware that I had presented any claim," he said, a little
haughtily.

The bureau chief looked up with some surprise. This quiet, patient,
reserved man had puzzled him once or twice before.

"Perhaps I should say 'case,' General," he said, drily. "But the
personal interest of the highest executive in the land strikes me as
being desirable in anything."

"I only mean that I have obeyed the orders of the department in
reporting myself here, as I have done," said Brant, with less feeling,
but none the less firmness; "and I should imagine it was not the duty
of a soldier to question them. Which I fancy a 'claim' or a 'case' would
imply."

He had no idea of taking this attitude before, but the disappointments
of the past month, added to this first official notice of his disgrace,
had brought forward that dogged, reckless, yet half-scornful obstinacy
that was part of his nature.

The official smiled.

"I suppose, then, you are waiting to hear from the President," he said
drily.

"I am awaiting orders from the department," returned Brant quietly,
"but whether they originate in the President as commander-in-chief, or
not--it is not for me to inquire."

Even when he reached his hotel this half-savage indifference which had
taken the place of his former incertitude had not changed. It seemed to
him that he had reached the crisis of his life where he was no longer a
free agent, and could