e she never did encourage Amos any. But
you'll promise, won't you, for the sake of my husband? Oh, could he do
wrong! I don't believe he did, but he can't defend himself now, and I
must protect Marjie's name from any dishonor."

It was a hard moment for the man before her, the keen discriminating
intelligent master of human nature. The picture of the battle field at
Missionary Ridge came before his eyes, the rush and roar of the conflict
was in his ears, and Irving Whately was dying there. "I hope they will
love each other. If they do, give them my blessing." Clearly came the
words again as they sounded on that day. And here was Irving Whately's
wife, Marjie's mother, in the innocence of her soul, asking that he
should help to give his friend's daughter to a man whom he was about to
call to judgment for heinous offences. And maybe,--oh, God forbid
it,--maybe the girl herself was not unwilling, since it was meant for
the family's welfare. What else could that look on her face last night
have meant? Oh, he had been a foolish father, over-fond, maybe, of a
foolish boy; but somehow he had hoped that sweet smile and the light in
Marjie's eyes might have meant word from Fort Wallace. What he might
have said to the mother, he never knew, for Marjie herself came in at
that moment, and Mrs. Whately took her leave at once.

Marjie was never so fair and womanly as now. The brisk walk in the
October air had put a pink bloom on her cheeks. Her hair lay in soft
fluffy little waves about her head, and her big brown eyes, clear honest
eyes, were full of a radiant light. My father brought my face and form
back to her as he always did, and the last hand-clasp in that very room,
the last glance from eyes full of love; and the memory was sweet to her.

"Mother said you wanted to see me," she said, "so I came in."

My father put her in his big easy-chair and sat down near her. His back
was toward the window, and his face was shadowed, while his visitor's
face was full in the light.

"Yes, Marjie, your mother has asked me to talk with you." I wonder at
the man's self-control. "She is planning, or consenting to plans for
your future, and she wants me to tell you I approve them. You seem very
happy to-day."

A blush swept over the girl's face, and then the blood ebbed back
leaving it white as marble. Men may abound in wisdom, but the wisest of
them may not always interpret the swift bloom that lights the face of a
girl and fades away as