ent on campaign; without even
letters or news from them; with Mr. Gleason's tragic fate and Mr. Ray's
romantic and mysterious connection therewith, there was too much of
solemn and shudder-inspiring element in the daily talk to render
conversation at all cheerful. All sorts of odd things had happened since
the death of that deserter, Wolf, and Mrs. Turner was at her wit's end
to make her conclusions fit together. She had by no means ceased to
jump,--that saltatory satisfaction at least remained to her,--but she
missed the mark so often as to seriously impair, for a while at least,
her confidence in her theories, and nothing but a series of serious
shocks could have achieved that result. She, too, had her sorrows, poor
lady, for her regimental companions in number eleven had shunned her
society to such an extent as to set the whole garrison talking about it,
though it took very little to accomplish that.

To begin with, Mrs. Truscott rarely went out at all, and had denied
herself to visitors on many occasions. Mrs. Stannard and Marion were all
the companions she cared to see much of, though, to Mrs. Turner's
incredulous wrath, Mrs. Wilkins was admitted on the very days when she,
herself, had called and penetrated no farther than the parlor. Mrs.
Wilkins had enjoyed--we use the term advisedly--a furious quarrel with
the wife of the commanding officer, and had driven that exemplary and
forgiving woman from the field in utter dismay. There had been no love
lost between them from the first, but Mrs. Wilkins had hotly resented
Mrs. Whaling's lamentations over Ray's prospective conviction and his
undeniable guilt, and had given the venerable black silk a dusting the
very day that Ray was carried off to prison. Then came the electrifying
intelligence that Wolf's dying confession had completely exonerated Ray,
and both Mrs. Whaling and Mrs. Turner had flown to Mrs. Stannard to
assure her that neither one of them could have believed in his guilt had
it not been for the other. Mrs. Whaling was positive that she had never
spoken of him except in the love and charity she would have used towards
her own son, and nothing but Mrs. Turner's accounts of his wildness and
dissipation would have shaken her faith in him for a moment. She had
always admired his frank and fearless character, and so had "the
general," who was heart-broken to think he had been so outrageously
imposed upon by Ray's enemies. Mrs. Turner vowed that she had really
l