XVIII.

There had been a scene of somewhat dramatic nature at the colonel's

office but a short time before, and one that had fewer witnesses.

Agitated, nervous, and eventually astonished as Captain Rayner had been

when the colonel had revealed to him the nature of Clancy's confession,

he was far more excited and tremulous when he returned a second time.

The commanding officer had been sitting deep in thought. It was but

natural that a man should show great emotion on learning that the

evidence he had given, which had condemned a brother officer to years of

solitary punishment, was now disproved. It was to be expected that

Rayner should be tremulous and excited. He had been looking worse and

worse for a long time past; and now that it was established that he must

have been mistaken in what he thought he saw and heard at Battle Butte,

it was to be expected that he should show the utmost consternation and

an immediate desire to make amends. He _had_ shown great emotion; he was

white and rigid as the colonel told him Clancy had made a full

confession; but the expression on his face when informed that the man

had admitted that he and Sergeant Gower were the only ones guilty of the

crime--that Clancy and Gower divided the guilt as they had the

money--was a puzzle to the colonel. Captain Rayner seemed daft: it was a

look of wild relief, half unbelief, half delight, that shot across his

haggard features. It was evident that _he had not heard at all what he

expected_. This was what puzzled the colonel. He had been pondering over

it ever since the captain's hurried departure "to tell his wife."

"We--we had expected--made all preparations to take this afternoon's

train for the East," he stammered. "We are all torn up, all ready to

start, and the ladies ought to go; but I cannot feel like going in the

face of this."

"There is no reason why you should not go, captain. I am told Mrs.

Rayner should leave at once. If need be, you can return from Chicago.

Everything will be attended to properly. Of course you will know what

to do towards Mr. Hayne. Indeed, I think it might be best for you to

go."

But Rayner seemed hardly listening; and the colonel was not a man to

throw his words away.

"You might see Mrs. Rayner at once, and return by and by," he said; and

Rayner gladly escaped, and went home with the wonderful news he had to

tell his wife.

And now a second time he was back, and was urging upon the commanding

officer the necessity of telegraphing and capturing Mrs. Clancy. In

plain words he told the colonel he believed that she had escaped with

the greater part of the money. The colonel smiled:

"That was attended to early this morning, captain. Hayne and the major

asked that she be secured, and the moment we found her fled it confirmed

their suspicions, and Billings sent despatches in every direction. She

can't get away! She was his temptress, and I mean to make her share all

the punishment."

"Colonel," exclaimed Rayner, while beads of sweat stood out on his

forehead, "she is worse,--a thousand times worse! The woman is a fiend.

She is the devil in petticoats--and ingenuity. My God! sir, I have been

in torment for weeks past,--my poor wife and I. I have been criminally,

cowardly weak; but I did not know what to do,--where to turn,--how to

take it,--how to meet it. Let me tell you." And now great tears were

standing in his eyes and beginning to trickle down his cheeks. He dashed

them away. His lips were quivering, and he strode nervously up and down

the matted floor. "When you refused to left Clancy re-enlist in the

----th, two years after Battle Butte, he came to me and told me a story.

He, too, had declared, as I did, that he had seen the money-packages in

Hayne's hands; and he said the real reason he was kicked out of the

----th was because the officers and men took sides with Hayne and

thought he had sworn his reputation away. He begged me not to 'go back

on him' as his own regiment had, and I thought he was being persecuted

because he told the truth. God knows I fully believed Hayne guilty for

more than three years,--it is only within the last year or so I began to

have doubts; and so I took Clancy into B Company and soon made Mrs.

Clancy a laundress. But she made trouble for us all, and there was

something uncanny about them. She kept throwing out mysterious hints I

could not understand when rumors of them reached me; and at last came

the fire that burned them out, and then the stories of what Clancy had

said in his delirium; and then she came to my wife and told her a yarn

that--she swore to its truth, and nearly drove Mrs. Rayner wild with

anxiety. She swore that when Clancy got to drinking he imagined he had

seen _me_ take that money from Captain Hull's saddle-bags and replace

the sealed package: she said he was ready to swear that he and

Gower--the deserter--and two of our men, honorably discharged now and

living on ranches down in Nebraska, could all swear--would all swear--to

the same thing,--that I was the thief. 'Sure you know it couldn't be so,

ma'am; and yet he wants to go and tell Mr. Hayne,' she would say:

'there's the four of 'em would swear to it, though Gower's evidence

would be no good; but the two men could hurt the captain.' Her ingenuity

was devilish; for one of the men I had severely punished once in the

Black Hills, and both hated me and had sworn they would get even with me

yet. God help me, colonel! seeing every day the growing conviction that

Hayne was innocent, that somebody else _must_ be guilty, I thought, what

if this man _should_, in drunken gratitude to Hayne for saving his life,

go to him and tell him this story, then back it up before the officials

and call in these two others? I was weak, but it appalled me. I

determined to get him out of the way of such a possibility. I got his

discharge, and meantime strove to prevent his drinking or going near

Hayne. _She_ knew the real story he _would_ tell. This was her devilish

plan to keep me on watch against him. I never dreamed the real truth.

She swore to me that three hundred dollars was all the money they had. I

believed that when he confessed it would be what she declared. I never

dreamed that Clancy and his confederate were the thieves: I never

believed the money was taken until after Hayne received it. I saw how

Hayne's guilt was believed in even in the face of contradictory evidence

before the court. What would be the tendency if three men together were

to swear against me, now that everybody thought him wronged? I know very

well what you will think of my cowardice. I know you and your officers

will say I should have given him every chance,--should have courted

investigation; and I meant to do so, but first I wanted to hear from

those discharged men in Nebraska. The whole scheme would have been

exploded two months ago had I not been a coward; but night after night

something kept whispering to me, 'You have wrecked and ruined a

friendless young soldier's life. You shall be brought as low.'"

The colonel was, as he afterwards remarked, hardly equal to the

occasion. He had as much contempt for moral weakness in a soldier as he

had for physical cowardice; but Rayner's almost abject recital of his

months of misery really left him nothing to say. Had the captain sought

to defend or justify any detail of his conduct, he would have pounced on

him like a panther. Twice the adjutant, sitting an absorbed and silent

listener, thought the chief on the verge of an outbreak; but it never

came. For some minutes after Rayner ceased the colonel sat steadily

regarding him. At last he spoke:

"You have been so frank in your statement, captain, that I feel you

fully appreciate how such deplorable weakness must be regarded in an

officer. It is unnecessary for me to speak of that. The full particulars

of Clancy's confession are not yet with me. Major Waldron has it all in

writing, and Mr. Billings has merely told me the general features. Of

course you shall have a copy of it in good time. As you go East to-day

and have your wife and household to think for, it may be as well that

you do not attempt to see Mr. Hayne before starting. And this matter

will not be discussed."

And so it happened that when the Rayners drove to the station that

bright afternoon, and a throng of ladies and officers gathered to see

them off, some of the youngsters going with them into town to await the

coming of the train, Nellie Travers had been surrounded by chattering

friends of both sexes, constantly occupied, and yet constantly looking

for the face of one who came not. For an hour before their departure

every tongue in garrison that wagged at all--and few there were that

wagged not--was discoursing on the exciting events of the

morning,--Hayne's emancipation from the last vestige of suspicion,

Clancy's capture, confession, and tragic death, Mrs. Clancy's flight and

probable future. At Rayner's, people spoke of these things very

guardedly, because every one saw that the captain was moved to the

depths of his nature. He was solemnity itself, and Mrs. Rayner watched

him with deep anxiety, fearful that he might be exposed to some

thoughtless or malicious questioning. Her surveillance was needless,

however: even Ross made no allusion to the events of the morning, though

he communicated to his fellows in the subsequent confidences of the

club-room that Midas looked as though he'd been pulled through a series

of knot-holes. "Looks more's though he were going to his own funeral

than on leave," he added.

As for Hayne, he had been closeted with the colonel and Major Waldron

for some time after his return,--a conference that was broken in upon

by the startling news of Clancy's death. Then he had joined his friend

the doctor at the hospital, and was still there, striving to comfort

little Kate, who could not be induced to leave her father's rapidly

stiffening form, when Mrs. Waldron re-entered the room. Drawing the

child to her side and folding her motherly arms about her, she looked up

in Hayne's pale face:

"They are going in five minutes. Don't you mean to see her?"

"Not there,--not under his roof or in that crowd. I will go to the

station."

"I must run over and say good-by in a moment,--when the carriage goes

around. Shall--shall I say you will come?"

There was a light in his blue eyes she was just beginning to notice now

as she studied his face. A smile flickered one instant about the corners

of his mouth, and then he held out his hand:

"She knows by this time, Mrs. Waldron."

An hour later Mrs. Rayner was standing on the platform at the station,

Ross and others of her satellites hanging about her; Captain Rayner was

talking in subdued tones with one or two of the senior officers; Miss

Travers, looking feverishly pretty, was chatting busily with Royce and

Foster, though a close observer could have noted that her dark eyes

often sought the westward prairie over which wound the road to the

distant post. It was nearly train-time, and three or four horsemen could

be seen at various distances, while, far out towards the fort, long

skirmish-lines and fluttering guidons were sweeping over the slopes in

mimic war-array.

"I have missed all this," she said, pointing to the scene; "and I do

love it so that it seems hard to go just as all the real soldier life is

beginning."

"Goodness knows you've had offers enough to keep you here," said Foster,

with not the blithest laugh in the world. "Any girl who will go East and

marry a 'cit' and leave six or seven penniless subs sighing behind her,

I have my opinion of: she's eminently level-headed," he added, with

rueful and unexpected candor.

"I have hopes of Miss Travers yet," boomed Royce, in his ponderous

basso,--"not personal hopes, Foster; you needn't feel for your

pistol,--but I believe that her heart is with the army, like the

soldier's daughter she is." And, audacious as was the speech and

deserving of instant rebuke, Mr. Royce was startled to see her reddening

vividly. He would have plunged into hasty apology, but Foster plucked

his sleeve:

"Look who's coming, you galoot! She hasn't heard a word either of us has

said."

And though Nellie Travers, noting the sudden silence, burst into an

immediate and utterly irrelevant lament over the loss of the Maltese

kitten,--which had not been seen all that day and was not to be found

when they came away,--it was useless. The effort was gallant, but the

flame in her cheeks betrayed her as, throwing his reins to the orderly

who followed him, Mr. Hayne dismounted at the platform and came directly

towards her. To Mrs. Rayner's unspeakable dismay, he walked up to the

trio, bowed low over the little gloved hand that was extended in answer

to the proffer of his own, and next she saw that Royce and Foster had,

as though by tacit consent, fallen back, and, _coram publico_, Mr. Hayne

was sole claimant of the regards of her baby sister. There was but one

comfort in the situation: the train was in sight. Forgetful, reckless

for the moment, of what was going on around her, she stood gazing at the

pair. No woman could fail to read the story; no woman could see his

face, his eyes, his whole attitude and expression, and not read therein

that old, old story that grows sweeter with every century of its life.

That he should be inspired with sudden, vehement love for her exquisite

Nell was something she could readily understand; but what--what meant

_her_ downcast eyes, the flutter of color on her soft and rounded cheek,

the shy uplifting of the fringed lids from time to time as though in

response to eager question or appeal? Heavens! would that train _never_

come? The whistle was sounding in the distance, but it would take ages

to drag those heavy Pullmans up the grade from the bridge where they had

yet to stop. She could almost have darted forward, seized her sister by

the wrist, and whispered again the baleful reminder that of late had had

no mention between them,--"Thou art another's;" but in her distress her

weak blue eyes sought her husband's face. He saw it all, and shook his

head. Then there was nothing to be done.

As the train came rumbling finally into the station, she saw him once

more clasp her sister's hand; then, with one long look into the sweet

face that was hidden from her jealous eyes, he raised his forage-cap and

stepped quickly back to where his horse was held. Her husband hastened

to her side:

"Kate, I must speak to him. I don't care how he may take it; I cannot

go without it."

They all watched the tall captain as he strode across the platform.

Every man in uniform seemed to know instinctively that Rayner at last

was seeking to make open reparation for the bitter wrong he had done.

One or two strove to begin a general chat and affect an interest in

something else, for Mrs. Rayner's benefit, but she, with trembling lips,

stood gazing after her husband and seemed to beg for silence. Then all

abandoned other occupation, and every man stood still and watched them.

Hayne had quickly swung into saddle, and had turned for one more look,

when he saw his captain with ashen face striding towards him, and heard

him call his name.

"By Jove!" muttered Ross, "what command that fellow has over himself!"

for, scrupulously observant of military etiquette, Mr. Hayne on being

addressed by his superior officer had instantly dismounted, and now

stood silently facing him. Even at the distance, there were some who

thought they could see his features twitching; but his blue eyes were

calm and steady,--far clearer than they had been but a moment agone when

gazing good-by into the sweet face they worshipped. None could hear what

passed between them. The talk was very brief; but Ross almost gasped

with amaze, other officers looked at one another in utter astonishment,

and Mrs. Rayner fairly sobbed with excitement and emotion, when Mr.

Hayne was seen to hold forth his hand, and Rayner, grasping it eagerly

in both his own, shook it once, then strode hastily away towards the

rear of the train. His eyes were filled with tears he could not repress

and could not bear to show.

That evening, as the train wound steadily eastward into the shadows of

the night, and they looked out in farewell upon the slopes they had last

seen when a wintry gale swept fiercely over the frozen surface and the

shallow ravines were streaked with snow, Kate Rayner, after a long talk

with her husband, and abandoning her boy to the sole guardianship of his

nurse, settled herself by Nellie's side, and Nellie knew that she either

sought confidences or had them to impart. Something of the old,

quizzical look was playing about the corner of her pretty mouth as her

elder sister, with feminine indirectness, began her verbal skirmishing

with the subject. It was some time before the question was reached which

led to her real objective:

"Did he--did Mr. Hayne tell you much about Clancy?"

"Not much. There was no time."

"You had fully ten minutes, I'm sure. It seemed even longer."

"Four by the clock, Kate."

"Well, four, then. He must have had something of greater interest."

No answer. Cheeks reddening, though.

"Didn't he?"--persistently.

"I will tell you what he told me of Clancy, Kate. Mrs. Clancy had

utterly deceived you as to what he had to tell, had she not?"

"Utterly." And now it was Mrs. Rayner's turn to color painfully.

"Mr. Hayne tells me that Clancy's confession really explained how

Captain Rayner was mistaken. It was not so much the captain's fault,

after all."

"So Mr. Hayne told him. You knew they--you saw Mr. Hayne offer him his

hand, didn't you?"

"I did not see: I knew he would." More vivid color, and much hesitation

now.

"_Knew_ he would! Why, Nellie, what do you mean? He didn't tell you that

he was to see Captain Rayner. He couldn't have known."

"But I knew, Kate; and I told him how the captain had suffered."

"But how could you know that he would shake hands with him?"

"He promised me."

The silence was unbroken for a moment. Nellie Travers could hear the

beating of her own heart as she nestled closer to her sister and stole a

hand into hers. Mrs. Rayner was trying hard to be dutiful, stern,

unbending, to keep _her_ faith with the distant lover in the East,

whether Nell was true or no; but she had been so humbled, so changed, so

shaken, by the events of the past few weeks, that she felt all her old

spirit of guardianship ebbing away. "Must I give you up, Nell? and must

he, too?--Mr. Van Antwerp?"

"He has not answered my last letter, Kate. It is nearly a week since I

have heard from him."

"What did you write, Nellie?"

"What I had done twice before,--that he ought to release me."

"And--is Clancy's the only confession you have heard to-day?"

"The only one." A pause: then, "I know what you mean, Kate; but he is

not the man to--to offer his love to a girl he knows is pledged to

another."

"But if you were free, Nellie? Tell me."

"I have no right to say, Kate; but"--and two big tears were welling up

into her brave eyes, as she clasped her hands and stretched them

yearningly before her--"shall I tell you what I think a girl would say

if she were free and had won his love?"

"What, Nellie?"

"She would say, 'Ay.' No woman with a heart could leave a man who has

borne so much and come through it all so bravely."

Poor Mrs. Rayner! Humbled and chastened as she was, what refuge had she

but tears, and then--prayer?