nder of their faith in the post chaplain,
for one thing, and many surprising facts as to officers, men, and
Indians for another. There came a bright wintry afternoon, at the fag
end of the year, when the station platform held a lively little assembly
waiting for the east-bound express. The colonel and his wife were there,
the former by no means the blood-thirsty warrior of the elder's
imagination. The Stannards had come in, and the Sumters, Kate, and "Dad"
Ennis, the chaplain, and both doctors, and all these surrounded the
brother and sister and held them in cheery converse, while Bob and
Miriam sauntered, self-centred, away.

There was a sheltered, sunshiny little nook down the platform, between
the baggage and express sheds, with a high, board fence at the back, to
keep off the north wind and human intruders. They passed it twice in
their stroll, but the third time turned in--it was so good to get out of
the piercing wind--as well as out of sight.

What wonders a few days of delight will do for a girl! The pallor and
lassitude had gone. The soft eyes were brimming with bliss. The rounded
cheeks had regained all their bloom. The sweet, rosebud mouth seemed all
smiles and warmth and witchery, and Lanier's eyes were glowing as he
drew her to his heart and gazed down into the depths of those uplifted
to his.

"That brute of a train has been late for a week," said he, "but to-day
it comes on time. It is going to be a long, long wait for May. How does
papa seem to take it now?"

"Papa is quick to make amends when he has wronged--any one, and now he
_knows_."

"Well, so does Aunt Agnes, Miriam, yet _she_ doesn't approve."

"Well, Aunt Agnes, don't you know--she's different. She's a good deal
like other women I know. When she's placed somebody else in a false
position, she thinks that person ought to be very sorry for her, and
sympathize with her, for having been deceived and misled. She thinks you
ought to say how sorry _you_ are."

"How can I say I'm sorry when I'm so glad--_all_ glad?"

"Well, then, there's Cousin Watson, don't you know? He was always her
pet. He was brought up by a weak mother and a doting aunt, and she knows
you don't approve of him."

"Does she expect a man to approve of one who maligned him as Lowndes
maligned me?"

"You should see his earlier letters about you! Why, if I'd known
anything of them I would never dared to meet such a paragon."

"And yet, after all, he turned to and painted m