ed the full use of his eyes. He plays
well."

Mrs. Rayner turned about once more, and, without saying so much as
good-night, went heavily up-stairs, leaving her escort to share with Mr.
Royce such welcome as the captain was ready to accord them. If forbidden
to talk on the subject nearest her heart, she would not speak at all.
She would have banged her door, but that would have waked baby. It stung
her to the quick to know that the cavalry officers were daily visitors
at Mr. Hayne's quarters. It was little comfort to know that the infantry
officers did not go, for she and they both knew that, except Major
Waldron, no one of their number was welcome under that roof unless he
would voluntarily come forward and say, "I believe you innocent." She
felt that but for the stand made by Hayne himself most of their number
would have received him into comradeship again by this time, and she
could hardly sleep that night from thinking over what she had heard.

But could she have seen the figure that was slinking in the snow at the
rear door of Hayne's quarters that very evening, peering into the
lighted rooms, and at last, after many an irresolute turn, knocking
timidly for admission and then hiding behind the corner of the shed
until Sam came and poked his pig-tailed head out into the wintry
darkness in wondering effort to find the visitor, she would not have
slept at all.

It was poor Clancy, once more mooning about the garrison and up to his
old tricks. Clancy had been drinking; but he wanted to know, "could he
spake with the lieutenant?"

IX.

"I have been reading over your letter of Thursday last, dear Steven,"
wrote Miss Travers, "and there is much that I feel I ought to answer.
You and Kate are very much of a mind about the 'temptations' with which
I am surrounded; but you are far more imaginative than she is, and far
more courteous. There is so much about your letter that touches me
deeply that I want to be frank and fair in my reply. I have been dancing
all this evening, was out at dinner before that, and have made many
calls this afternoon; but, tired as I am, my letter must be written,
for to-morrow will be but the repetition of to-day. Is it that I am cold
and utterly heartless that I can sit and write so calmly in reply to
your fervent and appealing letter? Ah, Steven, it is what may be said of
me; but, if cold and heartless to you, I have certainly given no man at
this garrison the faintest reason to thi