"Do you know where, Nellie?"
"Over to the hospital, I think; though I cannot say."
She heard him sigh deeply, move irresolutely about the hall for a
moment, then turn and go out.
At his gate he found two figures dimly visible in the gathering
darkness: they had stopped on hearing his footstep. One was an officer
in uniform, wrapped in heavy overcoat, with a fur cap, and a bandage
over his eyes. The other was a Chinese servant, and it was the latter
who asked,--
"This Maje Waldlon's?"
"No," said he, hastily. "Major Waldron's is the third door beyond."
At the sound of his voice the officer quickly started, but spoke in low,
measured tone: "Straight ahead, Sam." And the Chinaman led him on.
Rayner stood a moment watching them, bitter thoughts coursing through
his mind. Mr. Hayne was evidently sufficiently recovered to be up and
out for air, and now he was being invited again. This time it was his
old comrade Waldron who honored him. Probably it was another dinner.
Little by little, at this rate, the time would soon come when Mr. Hayne
would be asked everywhere and he and his correspondingly dropped. He
turned miserably away, and went back to the billiard-rooms at the store.
When Mrs. Rayner rang her bell for tea that evening he had not
reappeared, and she sent a messenger for him.
It was a brilliant moonlit evening. A strong prairie gale had begun to
blow from the northwest, and was banging shutters and whirling pebbles
at a furious rate. At the sound of the trumpets wailing tattoo a brace
of young officers calling on the ladies took their leave. The captain
had retired to his den, or study, where he shut himself up a good deal
of late, and thither Mrs. Rayner followed him and closed the door after
her. Throwing a cloak over her shoulders, Miss Travers stepped out on
the piazza and gazed in delight upon the moonlit panorama,--the
snow-covered summits to the south and west, the rolling expanse of
upland prairie between, the rough outlines of the foot-hills softened in
the silvery light, the dark shadows of the barracks across the parade,
the twinkling lights of the sergeants as they took their stations, the
soldierly forms of the officers hastening to their companies far across
the frozen level. Suddenly she became aware of two forms coming down the
walk. They issued from Major Waldron's quarters, and the door closed
behind them. One was a young officer; the other, she speedily made out,
a Chinese servant, who was guiding his master. She knew the pair in an
instant, and her first impulse was to retire. Then she reflected that he
could not see, and she wanted to look: so she stayed. They had almost
reached her gate, when a wild blast whirled the officer's cape about his
ears and sent some sheets of music flying across the road. Leaving his
master at the fence, the Chinaman sped in pursuit; and the next thing
she noted was that Mr. Hayne's fur cap was blown from his head and that
he was groping for it helplessly.
There was no one to call, no one to assist. She hesitated one minute,
looked anxiously around, then sprang to the gate, picked up the cap,
pulled it well down over the bandaged eyes, seized the young officer
firmly by the arm, drew him within the gate, and led him to the shelter
of the piazza. Once out of the fury of the gale, she could hear his
question, "Did you get it all, Sam?"
"Not yet," she answered. Oh, how she longed for a deep contralto! "He is
coming. He will be here in a moment."
"I am so sorry to have been a trouble to you," he began again, vaguely.
"You are no trouble to me. I'm glad I was where I happened to see you
and could help."
He spoke no more for a minute. She stood gazing at all that was visible
of the pale face below the darkened eyes. It was so clear-cut, so
refined in feature, and the lips under the sweeping blonde moustache,
though set and compressed, were delicate and pink. He turned his head
eagerly towards the parade; but Sam was still far away. The music had
scattered, and was leading him a lively dance.
"Isn't my servant coming?" he asked, constrainedly. "I fear I'm keeping
you. Please do not wait. He will find me here. You were going
somewhere."
"No,--unless it was here." She was trembling now. "Please be patient,
Mr.--Mr. Hayne. Sam may be a minute or two yet, and here you are out of
the wind."
Again she looked in his face. He was listening eagerly to her words, as
though striving to "place" her voice. _Could_ she be mistaken? Was he,
too, not trembling? Beyond all doubt his lips were quivering now.
"May I not know who it is that led me here?" he asked, gently.
She hesitated, hardly knowing how to tell him.
"Try and guess," she laughed, nervously. "But you couldn't. You do not
know my name. It is my good fortune, Mr. Hayne. You--you saved my
kitten; I--your cap."
There was no mistaking his start. Beyond doubt he had winced as though
stung, and was now striving to grope his way to the railing. She divined
his purpose in an instant, and her slender hand was laid pleadingly yet
firmly on his arm.
"Mr. Hayne, don't go. Don't think of going. Stay here until Sam comes.
He's coming now," she faltered.
"Is this Captain Rayner's house?" he asked, hoarse and low.
"No matter whose it is! I welcome you here. You shall not go," she
cried, impulsively, and both little hands were tagging at his arm. He
had found the railing, and was pulling himself towards the gate, but her
words, her clinging hands, were too persuasive.
"I cannot realize this," he said. "I do not understand--"
"Do not try to understand it, Mr. Hayne. If I am only a girl, I have a
right to think for myself. My father was a soldier,--I am Nellie
Travers,--and if he were alive I know well he would have had me do just
what I have done this night. Now won't you stay?"
And light was beaming in through his darkened eyes and gladdening his
soul with a rapture he had not known for years. One instant he seized
and clasped her hand. "May God bless you!" was all he whispered, but so
softly that even she did not hear him. He bowed low over the slender
white hand, and stayed.