XI.

It was very generally known throughout Fort Warrener by ten o'clock on

the following morning that Mr. Hayne had returned to duty and was one of

the first officers to appear at the _matinée_. Once more the colonel had

risen from his chair, taken him by the hand, and welcomed him. This time

he expressed the hope that nothing would now occur to prevent their

seeing him daily.

"Won't you come in to the club-room?" asked Captain Gregg, afterwards.

"We will be pleased to have you."

"Excuse me, captain, I shall be engaged all morning," answered Mr.

Hayne, and walked on down the row. Nearly all the officers were

strolling away in groups of three or four. Hayne walked past them all

with quick, soldierly step and almost aggressive manner, and was soon

far ahead, all by himself. Finding it an unprofitable subject, there had

been little talk between the two regiments as to what Mr. Hayne's status

should be on his reappearance. Everybody heard that he had somewhat

rudely spurned the advances of Ross and his companions. Indeed, Ross had

told the story with strong coloring to more than half the denizens of

officers' row. Evidently he desired no further friendship or intercourse

with his brother blue-straps; and only a few of the cavalry officers

found his society attractive. He played delightfully; he was well read;

but in general talk he was not entertaining. "Altogether too

sepulchral,--or at least funereal," explained the cavalry. "He never

laughs, and rarely smiles, and he's as glum as a Quaker meeting," was

another complaint. So a social success was hardly to be predicted for

Mr. Hayne.

While he could not be invited where just a few infantry people were the

other guests, from a big general gathering or party he, of course, could

not be omitted; but there he would have his cavalry and medical friends

to talk to, and then there was Major Waldron. It was a grievous pity

that there should be such an element of embarrassment, but it couldn't

be helped. As the regimental adjutant had said, Hayne himself was the

main obstacle to his restoration to regimental friendship. No man who

piques himself on the belief that he is about to do a virtuous and

praiseworthy act will be apt to persevere when the object of his

benevolence treats him with cold contempt. If Mr. Hayne saw fit to

repudiate the civilities a few officers essayed to extend to him, no

others would subject themselves to similar rebuffs; and if he could

stand the _status quo_, why, the regiment could; and that, said the

Riflers, was the end of the matter.

But it was not the end, by a good deal. Some few of the ladies of the

infantry, actuated by Mrs. Rayner's vehement exposition of the case, had

aligned themselves on her side as against the post commander, and by

their general conduct sought to convey to the colonel and to the ladies

who were present at the first dinner given Mr. Hayne thorough

disapproval of their course. This put the cavalry people on their mettle

and led to a division in the garrison; and as Major Waldron was, in Mrs.

Rayner's eyes, equally culpable with the colonel, it so resulted that

two or three infantry households, together with some unmarried

subalterns, were arrayed socially against their own battalion commander

as well as against the grand panjandrum at post head-quarters. If it had

not been for the determined attitude of Mr. Hayne himself, the garrison

might speedily have been resolved into two parties,--Hayne and

anti-Hayne sympathizers; but the whole bearing of that young man was

fiercely repellent of sympathy; he would have none of it. "Hayne's

position," said Major Waldron, "is practically this: he holds that no

man who has borne himself as he has during these five years--denied

himself everything that he might make up every cent that was lost,

though he was in no wise responsible for the loss--could by any

possibility have been guilty of the charges on which he was tried. From

this he will not abate one jot or tittle; and he refuses now to restore

to his friendship the men who repudiated him in his years of trouble,

except on their profession of faith in his entire innocence." Now, this

was something the cavalry could not do without some impeachment of the

evidence which was heaped up against the poor fellow at the time of the

trial; and it was something the infantry would not do, because thereby

they would virtually pronounce one at least of their own officers to

have repeatedly and persistently given false testimony. In the case of

Waldron and the cavalry, however, it was possible for Hayne to return

their calls of courtesy, because they, having never "sent him to

Coventry," received him precisely as they would receive any other

officer. With the Riflers it was different: having once "cut" him as

though by unanimous accord, and having taught the young officers joining

year after year to regard him as a criminal, _they_ could be restored to

Mr. Hayne's friendship, as has been said before, only "on confession of

error." Buxton and two or three of his stamp called or left their cards

on Mr. Hayne because their colonel had so done; but precisely as the

ceremony was performed, just so was it returned. Buxton was red with

wrath over what he termed Hayne's conceited and supercilious manner when

returning his call: "I called upon him like a gentleman, by thunder,

just to let him understand I wanted to help him out of the mire, and

told him if there was anything I could do for him that a gentleman

_could_ do, not to hesitate about letting me know; and when he came to

my house to-day, damned if he didn't patronize _me_!--talked to me about

the Plevna siege, and wanted to discuss Gourko and the Balkans or some

other fool thing: what in thunder have I to do with campaigns in

Turkey?--and I thought he meant those nigger soldiers the British have

in India,--Goorkhas, I know now,--and I _did_ tell him it was an awful

blunder, that only a Russian would make, to take those Sepoy fellows and

put 'em into a winter campaign. Of course I hadn't been booking up the

subject, and he had, and sprung it on me; and then, by gad, as he was

going, he said he had books and maps he would lend me, and if there was

anything he could do for me that a gentleman _could_ do, not to hesitate

about asking. Damn his impudence!"

Poor Buxton! One of his idiosyncrasies was to talk wisely to the juniors

on the subject of European campaigns and to criticise the moves of

generals whose very names and centuries were entangling snares. His own

subalterns were, unfortunately for him, at the house when Hayne called,

and when he, as was his wont, began to expound on current military

topics. "A little learning," even, he had not, and the dangerous thing

that that would have been was supplanted by something quite as bad, if

not worse. He was trapped and thrown by the quiet-mannered infantry

subaltern, and it was all Messrs. Freeman and Royce could do to restrain

their impulse to rush after Hayne and embrace him. Buxton was cordially

detested by his "subs" and well knew they would tell the story of his

defeat, so he made a virtue of necessity and came out with his own

version. Theirs was far more ludicrous, and, while it made Mr. Hayne

famous, he gained another enemy. The ----th could not fail to notice how

soon after that all social recognition ceased between their bulky

captain and the pale, slender subaltern; and Mrs. Buxton and Mrs. Rayner

became suddenly infatuated with each other, while their lords were

seldom seen except together.

All this time, however, Miss Travers was making friends throughout the

garrison. No one ever presumed to discuss the Hayne affair in her

presence, because of her relationship to the Rayners; and yet Mrs.

Waldron had told several people how delightfully she and Mr. Hayne had

spent an afternoon together. Did not Mrs. Rayner declare that Mrs.

Waldron was a woman who told everything she knew, or words to that

effect? It is safe to say that the garrison was greatly interested in

the story. How strange it was that he should have had a _tête-à-tête_

with the sister of his bitterest foe! _When_ did they meet? Had they met

since? Would they meet again? All these were questions eagerly

discussed, yet never asked of the parties themselves, Mr. Hayne's

reputation for snubbing people standing him in excellent stead, and Miss

Travers's quiet dignity and reserve of manner being too much for those

who would have given a good deal to gain her confidence. But there was

Mrs. Rayner. She, at least, with all her high and mighty ways, was no

unapproachable creature when it came to finding out what she thought of

other people's conduct. So half a dozen, at least, had more or less

confidentially asked if she knew of Mr. Hayne and Miss Travers's

meeting. Indeed she did! and she had given Nellie her opinion of her

conduct very decidedly. It was Captain Rayner himself who interposed,

she said, and forbade her upbraiding Nellie any further. Nellie being

either in an adjoining room or up in her own on several occasions when

these queries were propounded to her sister, it goes without saying that

that estimable woman, after the manner of her sex, had elevated her

voice in responding, so that there was no possibility of the wicked

girl's failing to get the full benefit of the scourging she deserved.

Rayner had, indeed, positively forbidden her further rebuking Nellie;

but the man does not live who can prevent one woman's punishing another

so long as she can get within earshot, and Miss Travers was paying

dearly for her independence.

It cannot be estimated just how great a disappointment her visit to the

frontier was proving to that young lady, simply because she kept her own

counsel. There were women in the garrison who longed to take her to

their hearts and homes, she was so fresh and pure and sweet and winning,

they said; but how could they, when her sister would recognize them only

by the coldest possible nod? Nellie was not happy, that was certain,

though she made no complaint, and though the young officers who were

daily her devotees declared she was bright and attractive as she could

be. There were still frequent dances and parties in the garrison, but

March was nearly spent, and the weather had been so vile and blustering

that they could not move beyond the limits of the post. April might

bring a change for the better in the weather, but Miss Travers wondered

how it could better her position.

It is hard for a woman of spirit to be materially dependent on any one,

and Miss Travers was virtually dependent on her brother-in-law. The

little share of her father's hard savings was spent on her education.

Once free from school, she was bound to another apprenticeship, and

sister Kate, though indulgent, fond, and proud, lost no opportunity of

telling her how much she owed to Captain Rayner. It got to be a fearful

weight before the first summer was well over. It was the main secret of

her acceptance of Mr. Van Antwerp. And now, until she would consent to

name the day that should bind her for life to him, she had no home but

such as Kate Rayner could offer her; and Kate was bitterly offended at

her. There was just one chance to end it now and forever, and to relieve

her sister and the captain of the burden of her support. _Could_ she

make up her mind to do it? And Mr. Van Antwerp offered the opportunity.

So far from breaking with her, as she half expected,--so far from being

even angry and reproachful on receiving the letter she had written

telling him all about her meetings with Mr. Hayne,--he had written again

and again, reproaching himself for his doubts and fears, begging her

forgiveness for having written and telegraphed to Kate, humbling himself

before her in the most abject way, and imploring her to reconsider her

determination and to let him write to Captain and Mrs. Rayner to return

to their Eastern home at once, that the marriage might take place

forthwith and he could bear her away to Europe in May. Letter after

letter came, eager, imploring, full of tenderest love and devotion, full

of the saddest apprehension, never reproaching, never doubting, never

commanding or restraining. The man had found the way to touch a woman

of her generous nature: he had left all to her; he was at her mercy; and

she knew well that he loved her fervently and that to lose her would

wellnigh break his heart. Could she say the word and be free? Surely, as

this man's wife there would be no serfdom; and, yet, could she wed a man

for whom she felt no spark of love?

They went down to the creek one fine morning early in April. There had

been a sudden thaw of the snows up the gorges of the Rockies, and the

stream had overleaped its banks, spread over the lowlands, and flooded

some broad depressions in the prairie. Then, capricious as a woman's

moods, the wind whistled around from the north one night and bound the

lakelets in a band of ice. The skating was gorgeous, and all the pretty

ankles on the post were rejoicing in the opportunity before the setting

of another sun. Coming homeward at luncheon-time, Mrs. Rayner, Mrs.

Buxton, Miss Travers, and one or two others, escorted by a squad of

bachelors, strolled somewhat slowly along Prairie Avenue towards the

gate. It so happened that the married ladies were foremost in the little

party, when who should meet them but Mr. Hayne, coming from the east

gate! Mrs. Rayner and Mrs. Buxton, though passing him almost elbow to

elbow, looked straight ahead or otherwise avoided his eye. He raised his

forage-cap in general acknowledgment of the presence of ladies with the

officers, but glanced coldly from one to the other until his blue eyes

lighted on Miss Travers. No woman in that group could fail to note the

leap of sunshine and gladness to his face, the instant flush that rose

to his cheek. Miss Travers, herself, saw it quickly, as did the maiden

walking just behind her, and her heart bounded at the sight. She bowed

as their eyes met, spoke his name in low tone, and strove to hide her

face from Mr. Blake, who turned completely around and stole a sudden

glance at her. She could no more account for than she could control it,

but her face was burning. Mrs. Rayner, too, looked around and stared at

her, but this she met firmly, her dark eyes never quailing before the

angry glare in her sister's. Blake was beginning to like Hayne and to

dislike Mrs. Rayner, and he always _did_ like mischief.

"You owe me a grudge, Miss Travers, if you did but know it," he said, so

that all could hear.

"You, Mr. Blake! How can that be possible?"

"I spoiled a serenade for you a few nights ago. I was officer of the

day, and caught sight of a man gazing up at your window after midnight.

I felt sure he was going to sing: so, like a good fellow, I ran over to

play an accompaniment, and then--would you believe it?--he wouldn't

sing, after all."

She was white now. Her eyes were gazing almost imploringly at him.

Something warned him to hold his peace, and he broke off short.

"_Who_ was it? Oh, _do_ tell us, Mr. Blake!" were the exclamations, Mrs.

Rayner being most impetuous in her demands. Again Blake caught the

appeal in Miss Travers's eyes.

"That's what I want to know," he responded, mendaciously. "When I woke

up next morning, the whole thing was a dream, and I couldn't fix the

fellow at all."

There was a chorus of disappointment and indignation. The idea of

spoiling such a gem of a sensation! But Blake took it all complacently,

until he got home. Then it began to worry him.

Was it possible that she knew he was there?

That night there was a disturbance in the garrison. Just after ten

o'clock, and while the sentries were calling off the hour, a woman's

shrieks and cries were heard over behind the quarters of Company B and

close to the cottage occupied by Lieutenant Hayne. The officers of the

guard ran to the spot with several men, and found Private Clancy

struggling and swearing in the grasp of two or three soldiers, while

Mrs. Clancy was imploring them not to let him go, he was wild-like

again; it was drink; he had the horrors, and was batin' her while she

was tryin' to get him home. And Clancy's appearance bore out her words.

He was wild and drunken; but he swore he meant no harm; he struggled

hard for freedom; he vowed he only wanted to see the lieutenant at his

quarters; and Mr. Hayne, lamp in hand, had come upon the scene, and was

striving to quiet the woman, who only screamed and protested the louder.

At his quiet order the soldiers released Clancy, and the man stood

patient and subordinate.

"Did you want to see me, Clancy?" asked Mr. Hayne.

"Askin' yer pardon, sir, I did," began the man, unsteadily, and

evidently struggling with the fumes of the liquor he had been drinking;

but before he could speak again, Mrs. Clancy's shrieks rang out on the

still air:

"Oh, for the love of God, howld him, some o' ye's! He'll kill him! He's

mad, I say! Shure 'tis I that know him best. Oh, blessed Vargin, save

us! _Don't_ let him loose, Misther Foster!" she screamed to the officer

of the guard, who at that moment appeared on the full run.

"What's the trouble?" he asked, breathlessly.

"Clancy seems to have been drinking, and wants to talk with me about

something, Mr. Foster," said Hayne, quietly. "He belongs to my company,

and I will be responsible that he goes home. It is really Mrs. Clancy

that is making all the trouble."

"Oh, for the love of God, hear him, now, whin the man was tearin' the

hair o' me this minute! Oh, howld him, men! Shure 'tis Captain Rayner

wud niver let him go."

"What's the matter, Mrs. Clancy?" spoke a quick, stern voice, and

Rayner, with face white as a sheet, suddenly stood in their midst.

"Oh, God be praised, it's here ye are, captin! Shure it's Clancy, sir,

dhrunk, sir, and runnin' round the garrison, and batin' me, sir."

"Take him to the guard-house, Mr. Foster," was the stern, sudden order.

"Not a word, Clancy," as the man strove to speak. "Off with him; and if

he gives you any trouble, send for me."

And as the poor fellow was led away, silence fell upon the group. Mrs.

Clancy began a wail of mingled relief and misery, which the captain

ordered her to cease and go home. More men came hurrying to the spot,

and presently the officer of the day. "It is all right now," said Rayner

to the latter. "One of my men--Clancy--was out here drunk and raising a

row. I have sent him to the guard-house. Go back to your quarters, men.

Come, captain, will you walk over home with me?"

"Was Mr. Hayne here when the row occurred?" asked the cavalryman,

looking as though he wanted to hear something from the young officer who

stood a silent witness.

"I don't know," replied Rayner. "It makes no difference, captain. It is

not a case of witnesses. I shan't prefer charges against the man. Come!"

And he drew him hastily away.

Hayne stood watching them as they disappeared beyond the glimmer of his

lamp. Then a hand was placed on his arm:

"Did you notice Captain Rayner's face,--his lips? He was ashen as

death."

"Come in here with me," was the reply; and, turning, Hayne led the post

surgeon into the house.