went both hands to the caps again and both soldiers sprang to attention.

Stuyvesant, looking languidly around, saw that Mr. Ray had returned,
saw, moreover, that his sister was leaning on his arm, her eyes fixed on
the speaker's weather-beaten face. Again it all flashed upon him--the
story of Foster's infatuation for this lovely girl, his enlistment, and
then his strange and unaccountable disappearance.

"I'm sorry, men," interposed Mr. Ray in pleasant tone, "but the surgeon
has ordered us not to talk with Lieutenant Stuyvesant, and I shall have
to repeat his order to you. You were in the car that was burned, I
suppose?"

"Yes, sir. Beg pardon--we didn't know about the doctor's orders. We're
mighty glad to see the lieutenant again. Come 'long, Mellen."

"Wait," whispered Stuyvesant. "Come and see me again. I want to talk
with you, and--thank you for stopping to-day."

The soldiers departed happy, and Stuyvesant turned wistfully to greet
Miss Ray. She was already beyond reach of his voice, leaning on Sandy's
arm and gazing steadfastly into his face. He saw Mrs. Dr. Wells coming
swiftly towards him with inquiry in her eyes, and impulsively,
peevishly, and in disappointment he turned again his face to the wall,
as it were. At least that was not the Red Cross nurse he longed for,
good and sympathetic and wise in her way as she undoubtedly was.

He wished now with all his heart that they had placed his chair so that
he could look back along the promenade deck instead of forward over the
forecastle at the sparkling sea. He felt that, pacing up and down
together, the brother and sister must come within ten feet of his chair
before they turned back, and he longed to look at her, yet could not.
Sturgis had said he would return in a few minutes, and he hadn't come.
Stuyvesant felt aggrieved. It would be high noon before many minutes.
Already the ship officers were on the bridge ready to "take the sun,"
and mess-call for the men was sounding on the lower decks. He would give
a fortune, thought he, to feel once more that cool, soft, slender little
hand on his forehead. There were other hands, some that were certainly
whiter than Miss Ray's, and probably quite as soft and cool, hands that
before the report of his slur upon the Red Cross would gladly have
ministered to him, but he shrank from thought of any touch but one. He
would have given another fortune, if he had it, could Marion Ray but
come and sit by him and talk in her