he afternoon of
a fine November day. The captain led the way to the colonel's quarters.
A sentinel was walking up and down the front. He saluted the captain,
who passed into the quarters, where an orderly received the party,
showed them into a parlor, gave them seats, and then took the captain's
card to the colonel.

In a few moments Col. ---- entered the parlor, looked around, recognized
Captain Neville, and greeted him with:

"Ah, Neville! delighted to see you! Mrs. Neville, of course! I remember
you well, madam! And this young lady your daughter, I presume?" he
added, turning from the elders to shake hands with Corona.

"No; not our daughter, I wish she were; but our young friend, Mrs.
Rothsay, who is going with us to Farthermost," Captain Neville
explained.

"To join her husband! One of the new set of officers turned out by the
Academy! Happy man!" exclaimed the colonel, warmly shaking Corona's
hand.

"No, sir; Mrs. Rothsay is a widow. She goes out to join her only
brother, Lieutenant Haught!" the captain again explained, in a low and
faintly reproachful tone.

"Oh! ah! I beg pardon, I am sure. The mistake was absurd," said the
colonel, with a penitent air.

"When did you leave Washington?"

"A week ago to-day; but the boats were slow."

"Pleasant journey, I hope?"

"Oh, yes, so far."

At this moment the colonel's wife came into the room. She was a tall,
gray-haired woman with a fair complexion and blue eyes, and dressed in
black silk and a lace cap. She shook hands with Captain and Mrs.
Neville, who were old friends, and who then presented Mrs. Rothsay, whom
the hostess received with much cordiality.

Meanwhile the colonel and the captain strolled out upon the piazza, to
smoke each a cigar. The former inquired more particularly into the
history of the beautiful, pale woman who had come out under the
protection of the captain and his wife.

Captain Neville told him all he knew of Mrs. Rothsay's story--namely,
that she was the granddaughter of the famous Iron King, Aaron Rockharrt,
lately deceased, and that she was the widow of the late Regulas Rothsay,
who so mysteriously disappeared on the evening of his wedding before the
day of his expected inauguration as governor of his native State, and
who was afterward discovered to have been murdered by the Comanche
Indians.

In the evening, when a number of officers dropped into the drawing room
of the colonel's quarters, our party were quite able to re