Four days had passed since Terry's fight down the river. McLean,
painfully wounded, but very quiet and plucky, had been re-established
in his old quarters at "Bedlam." Dr. Bayard, after one or two somewhat
formal visits, had relinquished the entire charge of the case to his
assistant; so that Dr. Weeks was now the medical and surgical attendant
of both the young officers in the north hall, while his senior
continued assiduously to care for the wants of the feminine colony in
the other. It may be said right here, that, so far as those sturdy
"refugees" the Posts were concerned, professional and personal
attentions from Dr. Bayard were both declared unnecessary. Mrs. Post
was a woman of admirable physique and somewhat formidable personality.
She did not fancy the elaborate manners of the surgeon at their first
meeting, and allowed her lack of appreciation of "His Elegancy" to
develop into positive dislike before she had known him a fortnight.
Now, since the "north end" had become a hospital, she was willing to
admit the doctor to her confidence, for the good lady was incessant in
the preparation of comforting drinks or culinary dainties for the two
invalids; but what was the measure of her indignation when she
discovered that Bayard's attentions at "Bedlam" were confined to the
south hall and to Mrs. Forrest's quarters?
He had always been a specialist in the maladies of women and children,
to be sure, and we all know of what vital importance are such
practitioners in our large garrisons. He was a welcome visitor either
at the fireside or in the sick-room of every family homestead on the
reservation--except Mrs. Post's--whensoever he chose to call, but that
his presence at Mrs. Forrest's should be requisite and necessary three
or four times every twenty-four hours was something Mrs. Post could not
be brought to believe, and her scepticism speedily inoculated the
entire community.
Mrs. Forrest declared she did not know how she could have lived through
the terrors of the past week had it not been for Dr. Bayard's delicate
and skilful ministrations. The doctor himself was understood to say
that the poor lady's nervous system was utterly unstrung, that she was
in a hyper-sensitive condition which might readily develop into nervous
prostration unless she was carefully guarded. The officers of the
garrison, when they spoke of the matter at all, which was not often,
laughingly referred to the admirable tactics of the astute physician in
finding excuses for frequent professional visits to a house where it
was now apparent to all he was personally interested. The women, when
they did not speak of the matter to one another, which was seldom
indeed, were divided in their opinions. That Dr. Bayard was "smitten"
with Fanny Forrest was something they had seen from the start, but that
brilliant and most incomprehensible young woman had on more than one
occasion treated him with marked coldness and aversion. What was the
matter? Had he been too precipitate in his wooing? Twice since Hatton
returned with his little escort, bringing in the wounded, had Miss
Forrest declined Dr. Bayard's arm, and, on the other hand, while she
seemed to repel the senior, she was now showing a marked interest in
his junior,--the attendant of the wounded officers. Twice while Dr.
Bayard was known to be visiting at the Forrests', she was seen to come
forth, and, after an irresolute glance up and down the walk, as though
she had no other purpose in venturing out than to escape from her
elderly admirer, the young lady had walked down the path away from the
officers' quarters and disappeared from view in the direction of the
trader's store. Some of the ladies were beginning to believe that,
_faute de mieux_, the doctor was consoling himself in a flirtation
with his lackadaisical patient; but it was speedily noted that he
stayed only a few moments when Miss Forrest left the premises, and the
idea was as speedily scouted by the entire sisterhood, unless, indeed,
we except the lady herself. Poor Mrs. Forrest! In these days of her
faded beauty, she could not forget the fact that it was only a few
years before that her rosebud complexion and tender blue eyes had been
the cause of many a heartache among the young fellows in the garrison
where she, the only damsel, reigned supreme; and lives there a woman
who, having once queened it over the hearts of the opposite sex, can
quite abandon the idea that her powers still exist?
Knowing, from plain declarations to that effect, that her spirited
sister-in-law totally disapproved of Dr. Bayard after a conversation
held with him the night McLean was returned to the post, Mrs. Forrest
was fain to flatter herself that these frequent visits to her were
impelled by an interest transcending the professional and rapidly
becoming sentimental. It really did her good; gave her something to
think about besides her woes; rescued her from the slatternly ways into
which she was falling and restored a faded coquetry to her dress and
mien; brightened her dreary eyes and lent color to her pallid cheek,
and prompted her to surround herself with those domestic barricades
against unhallowed glances and unwarranted sighs,--the children. But
when Fanny Forrest flatly told her it was all nonsense, this
encouraging Dr. Bayard's visits on account of some supposititious
malady, and that she was looking better than she had seen her look in
six months, the lady took offence at the first statement and alarm at
the second, and between the two a relapse was accomplished which, of
course, triumphantly established the justice of her position and the
ineffable cruelty of her sister's charge.
Fanny Forrest's life could hardly have been pleasant just then, said
superficial commentators. To every woman who called upon the lady of
the house in her invalid state, Mrs. Forrest had something to say about
the heartlessness and utter lack of sympathy with which she was
treated; and who can doubt that the letters she wrote her soldier
husband made frequent complaint to the same effect? Now, if in the
domestic circle Miss Forrest had no friend or sympathizer, it was quite
as bad without. With all her frankness, brilliancy, and dash, with all
her willingness to be cordial and friendly, there had arisen between
her and the whole sisterhood in the garrison a strange, intangible, but
impenetrable barrier. She was welcome nowhere, and was too proud to
inquire the cause.
This state of things could not go on long, as a matter of course.
Sooner or later the reason would be demanded by somebody, and then the
stories would come out. Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Bruce, as recorded in an
earlier chapter, had covenanted together to keep the secret; but that
mysterious theft the night of the dinner at the doctor's had made the
former determine on another revelation to her lord and master, the post
commander. As for Mrs. Bruce, she struggled--well, womanfully--to hold
her tongue, and womanfully succeeded.
Two nights after McLean had been brought home and was lying in a
somewhat feverish condition, the major commanding came in and softly
tapped at the door of the front room. Hatton was seated at the table
reading by the light of the Argand, and he arose at once and tiptoed to
see who was there.
"Oh! Come in, major," he said, in a low tone, throwing open the door.
"Come in."
"Is McLean asleep?" whispered the major. "I--I don't want to disturb
him. I only wanted to inquire."
"Not asleep, sir, but lying in a sort of doze. Weeks is trying to fight
off fever."
"I know; I understand. It may be several days before he'll be well
enough to--to talk, won't it?" and the major gazed keenly into Hatton's
eyes, and Hatton plainly saw the trouble in his commander's face.
"I fear it may, sir. Weeks says he must be kept quiet and free from
worry of any kind."
The major paused, irresolute. He took off his forage-cap and mopped his
brow with his handkerchief, then stood there twisting the cap in his
hands. He looked down the dim hall-way, then through the crack of the
door, then down at his boots, and all the time Hatton stood there
holding wide open the door, yet hoping and praying he would not come
in. Something told the lieutenant that the matter so plainly worrying
the commanding officer was one neither he nor McLean could speak of if
it could possibly be helped.
But Miller was in sore trouble, and he could not stand alone.
"Hatton!" he muttered, impulsively, "is the nurse there? Can you come
out with me? I--I have heard something that gives me a world of
concern, something I must ask you about. I can't talk of it here. Sick
men's ears are sometimes far more acute than those of their sound and
healthy brothers. Can you come now?"
"I am alone with Mac just now, sir. I sent the attendant down to the
post-office and the store. He had been cooped up all day, and was
grateful for a little fresh air. When he returns----" and Hatton
stopped vaguely. He knew it might be an hour before the man got back.
That would give him time to think.
"Well. That will have to do. Come to my quarters then, and, if a
lot of women are there, you--you say you want to see me about
something,--anything,--and I'll come out. I don't want them to
dream I'm investigating anything." And here the major stopped
uneasily and glanced up-stairs; then looked inquiringly at Hatton.
"Who's up there?" he asked.
"No one, sir, to my knowledge. Blunt's door is closed and he is
sleeping. Weeks was there not ten minutes since, and stopped to see me
on the way down. Why do you ask?"
"Why, I thought I heard something,--a woman's dress and light footfall.
I even thought I saw a shadow at the head of the stairs."
Hatton's heart gave a great thump, and he felt his face glowing under
his commander's gaze, but he answered steadily.
"It is possible, sir. Mrs. Post and Miss Forrest both have been coming
along the upper gallery frequently, bringing things to both Blunt and
McLean. Mrs. Post comes over to inquire every hour or so, and they
tiptoe in and out as light as a kitten. Shall I run up and see?"
"Oh, no,--no! If that's the explanation, it is simple enough. No, I'm
all upset. I--I fancied there was some one listening. Come to me as
soon as you can, Hatton. By the way, have you heard from Mr. Holmes?"
"No, sir. He was called suddenly to the ranch, and I presume he is
there."
"I know, I know. But did he see McLean before he left?"
"See him! Yes, sir; but that's about all he could do. McLean was in no
condition to receive visitors, and Weeks hustled him out somewhat
unceremoniously."
"Well. That's all, just now. I'll expect you soon after tattoo."
"Very good, sir."
And then the major went away, closing the hall-door after him. Hatton
stood there a moment as though rooted to the spot, his brow moistening
with beads of sweat that seemed starting from every pore. Despite his
secrecy, then, despite McLean's destruction of the evidence of her
visit the night of the disappearance of their property, despite their
determination to shield the sister of an absent comrade from suspicion,
or disgrace, in some way the story must have gotten around. Possibly
there were other thefts of which he knew nothing, in which suspicion
had pointed to her. Possibly the vague confessions, implicating no one,
which he had made to Mrs. Miller, taken in connection with events of
which he had no knowledge, had proved sufficient to weave a chain of
circumstantial evidence about her; and now the commanding officer was
aroused, and was coming down on him, and poor Mac yonder, for full
details of their losses and their knowledge of the affair. He would
give anything to secure the postponement of that dreaded interview
until he could talk over matters with his comrade, but when would that
be a possibility? Just as soon as the attendant returned, he must go to
his commander, and either make a clean breast of it or refuse to utter
a word. What course would he ask or expect of a comrade if it were his,
Hatton's, sister, who was here alone and defenceless? By heaven, McLean
was right! They must shield her, so far as shield of theirs could
serve, until Forrest himself could come to be her adviser and
protector.
Then he, too, stopped, listened, and looked up the stairs. Then he,
too, started, but with a start to which the major's sudden turn was a
mere languid gesture. Hardly could he believe his eyes; hardly could he
trust his reeling senses, but it was she,--Fanny Forrest,--not standing
at the head of the stairs, but coming swiftly down upon him, her finger
at her lips, her other hand gathering her skirts so that they should
make as little rustle as possible as she swooped quickly down the
stairs. Another instant, and she was at his side, her eyes gleaming
like fiery coals, her face burning, her lips firm, set, and determined.
He was too much startled to speak. It was she who broke the silence, in
words clear-cut and distinct yet soft and low.
"Mr. Hatton, I saw your major coming here. I have heard within two days
more than you know. I know why he wishes to see you to-night, and--yes,
I listened. There is more at stake than you dream of. Now, I hasten to
you; there is no time to explain,--no time to answer questions. If you
would save a friend from wrong or ruin, don't go near Major Miller
to-night. I adjure you, find some excuse. I'll find one for you, if it
is only to delay that attendant; but mark what I say, don't go near
Major Miller to-night, or tell him what you know until Mr. Holmes
returns. I--I've sent for him. Will you promise?"
"Promise!" he utters, slowly, a dazed look in his eyes. "Good God, Miss
Forrest! I would do anything in my power for Captain Forrest's sister,
and for him; but if--if this thing is known, what can my silence
avail?"
"Never mind Captain Forrest or Captain Forrest's sister! This is vital!
Do you promise? It is only for a day. Mr. Holmes will be here in
twenty-four hours."
"What can his coming or going--pardon me! but I'm at a loss to see how
he is in any way concerned."
A manly step was heard on the porch without. She turned a glance of
terror at the hall-door and flew to spring the latch, but the step went
on toward the south hall.
"It is the doctor," she said, falteringly. "He is going to our
quarters, and I must hurry back the way I came. Mr. Hatton, tell no one
I came to you here; and, as for the rest, I implore you to be guided by
what I say. One thing more,"--she whipped from her pocket a white silk
handkerchief. "Put this back among his,--not on top, but anywhere among
them otherwise."
And, thrusting the soft fabric into his hand, without another word she
flew up the old wooden stairs, her skirts rushing and "swishing" over
the floor, her slippered feet twinkling over the rickety flight, light
as kittens, swift as terriers; and in an instant she was through the
upper hall, out on the gallery, and beyond sight and hearing. A few
moments, dazed and confounded, Hatton stood there gazing vacantly after
her. Then he thought he heard McLean's voice, and entering found him
propped on his elbow, a queer look on his face.
"Hat, there are spooks in this old rookery. I could have sworn I heard
a woman's dress and a woman's footfalls on those creaking stairs just
now. Has any one been in here?"
"N--no one, Mac."
"Gad! I'm not dreaming. It sounded just as it did the night--the night
that thing happened. You know, Hat."