e for much--"can have a great influence for good over him that
she chooses. I am pretty sure Captain Filbert's already got Mr. Lindsay
almost persuaded. I shouldn't be at all surprised if he joined the Army
himself when she's had a good chance at him."

Arnold put on his hat with a groan and began the descent of the stairs.
"Good-afternoon, then," Mrs. Sand called out to him from the top. He
turned mechanically and bared his head. "I beg your pardon," he said,
"Good-afternoon."

CHAPTER XIV.

Mrs. Sand found it difficult to make up her mind upon several points
touching the visit of the Reverend Stephen Arnold. Its purport, of which
she could not deny her vague, appreciation, drew a cloud across a rosy
prospect, and in this light his conduct showed unpardonable; on the
other hand, it implied a compliment to the corps, it made the spiritual
position of an officer of the Army, a junior too, a matter of moment in
a wider world than might be suspected; and before this consideration
Mrs. Sand expanded. She reflected liberally that salvation was not
necessarily frustrated by the laying-on of hands; she had serene fancies
of a republic of the redeemed. She was a prey to further hesitations
regarding the expediency of mentioning the interview to Laura, and as
private and confidential it ministered for two days to her satisfactions
of superior officer. In the end, however, she had to sacrifice it to the
girl's imperturbable silence. She chose an intimate and a private hour
and shut the door carefully upon herself and her captain, but she had
not at all decided, when she sat down on the edge of the bed, what
complexion to give to the matter, nor had she a very definite idea, when
she got up again, of what complexion she had given it. Laura, from the
first word, had upset her by an intense eagerness, a determination not
to lose a syllable. Captain Filbert insisted upon hearing all before she
would acknowledge anything; she hung upon the sentences Mrs. Sand
repeated, and joined them together as if they were parts of a puzzle;
she finally had possession of the conversation much as I have already
written it down. As Mrs. Sand afterward told her husband, Miss Filbert
sat there growing whiter and whiter, more and more worked up, and it was
impossible to take any comfort in talking to her. It seemed as if she,
the Ensign, might save herself the trouble of giving an opinion one way
or the other, and not a thing could she get the