Marion's Faith.

by Charles King

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  THE COLORS ENTWINE.

  She was talking brightly with a knot of half a dozen young officers, allclamoring for "extras," when, soft and sweet, the strains of"Immortellen," that loveliest of Gungl's waltzes, floated on the air,and Ray stood there before her.

  "My waltz, Miss Sanford. Can I claim you in face of such an array ofaspirants?"

  She rested her hand on his arm, nodding blithely to the group, andcalling laughingly back to them as he led her away. Then she noticed howsilent he was, and for the first time looked up in his face.

  "You have not been dancing, Mr. Ray?"

  "No, Miss Marion; and it was a piece of selfishness in me to ask this. Ihave not danced since coming back from the Cheyenne, and yet--I couldnot go without one. Shall we try?"

  Will he ever forget her as she looked that night? How gloriously deepand soft and tender were her eyes, how wavy and rippling her hair, howexquisite the delicate tints of her complexion, how rich, how lovely thewarmth of her parted lips! Her dress seemed as airy, as fair as her ownquiet grace. For the life of him he could not describe it, but it wasthe first time he had seen her in evening attire, and Marion Sanford'sneck and shoulders and arms were perfect,--fair and white and round andlovelier than an angel's, thought Ray, as his glowing eyes looked downin rapture upon her. She had glanced up in his face as he spoke, but hiseyes met hers with such uncontrollable worship in their gaze that shecould not face them. His arm twined lightly about her waist, and withouta further word they swung away in the long, gliding measure that seemedso perfectly in accord with the spirit of the dreamy music. She dancedlightly as a fairy; "guided," as he would have said, "with the faintesttouch of the rein," and he forgot the stiffness of the wounded thigh,and everything else but that, to the music of all others he fancied most(surely the leader had an unusual fit of inspiration that night), he wasdancing at last with the girl whose beauty enthralled his every sense,whose loyalty to him in all his troubles had won his undying gratitude,and whom he loved, humbly 'tis true, yet thrillingly, passionately. Henever saw that all over the ball-room curious eyes were watchingeagerly. Hers were downcast, while his were fixed almost in adoration onher face. Sweeter, softer, dreamier rose and fell the exquisite strains.Will he ever forget the "Immortellen"? Soft ripples of her hair weredrifting close to his lips. Their delicate fragrance stole over hissenses like a spell. He felt the light pressure of her tiny hand uponhis arm, and envied the dead gold of his shoulder-knot, when once, asthey reversed and a quick turn was necessary to avoid collision with abulkier couple, her flushing cheek had rested one instant upon it. Hecould not speak; a lump rose in his throat and his heart beat wildly.What could it mean? what could it mean? this strange thing Blake hadconfessed to him? She--_she_ had bought Dandy to give to him? He mustfind words to thank her, but how could he without betraying all?

  Such silence could not last. Even in the thrilling instant of an avowalthe woman does not live who so far forgets herself as to be insensibleto the gaze of lookers-on. Totally ignorant of the extent of hisknowledge, since she had charged Blake that it was all to be kept aprofound secret; thinking only of the necessity of breaking thattreacherous, betraying silence, she summoned her courage, and, lookingup one instant, she made some laughing allusion to the fact that Mrs.Turner would never forgive him if he left without dancing with her; and,indeed, he _must_ dance with Miss Whaling, since he had dined there thatevening.

  "I will try. I will do anything you ask or suggest; only, Miss Marion,we march at eight to-morrow morning. Come with me to the gallery oneminute. I _must_ speak to you."

  So after all she had only precipitated matters. He had ceased waltzingdirectly opposite one of the open doors, and, without waiting for reply,with the quick decision that so marked him at times, he led her,speechless, from the room, snatching up a cavalry cape from a chair, andthis, as they stepped out on the low wooden piazza, he threw over hershoulders. Several other couples were promenading slowly up and down, orgazing in at the dancers. He led her rapidly past all these until theycame to the end of the platform, and there, with the moonlight shiningfull on his eager features, Ray turned and faced his fate. She knew hewas trembling; she knew his voice was low and broken and husky. Hiswords had been hardly audible to her in the hop-room, but his emotionany woman could see. Oh, how white and cold and still the distantmountains shone in the pallid light! Oh, how silent, peaceful, deserted,the far-away slopes and ridges over the prairie! Oh, how faint and farand glimmering were the night lights of the stars, dimmed intonothingness by the broad, brilliant, overwhelming radiance of the Queenof Heaven! Oh, how sweet, luring, love-lighting were those witchingwaltz strains floating out upon the breathless air! Oh, how warm andclose was the pressure of his strong arm as it held her hand upon hisbeating heart! Knowing--well knowing what must be coming, powerless,even if determined to check him, she bowed her sweet face, and the youngsoldier's surging love words broke, low, tremulous, but irresistible,upon her listening ears.

  "God knows I meant to hide as yet, until my life could have shown theinfluence you and your blessed faith have had.--God knows I meant tohave striven to show myself worthy before coming to say what now Icannot restrain; but to-night the truth came out that to you I owe mypet, my Dandy. No; let me speak," he went on, impetuously, as for oneinstant she raised her head as though to check him; he had seized herhand, too, and held it down there under the folds of that happy cavalrycape. "I ask nothing. I know I've no right to hope or expect anything asyet. You have blessed me infinitely beyond my deserts already; but now Icould not go, I _could_ not go without giving you to do with as you willthe only thing on earth I have to offer,--my heart, Marion. Oh, mydarling, my darling, don't shrink from me! Listen, sweet one. There canbe no wrong, no shame in your knowing that I love you, love you beyondany power of mine to tell you. Were I to go now, after all you have donefor me, and hide all this simply because I did not and could not hopeyou would return it,--yet, I would hang my head in shame. The man wholoves as I do _must_ tell it, no matter what the answer be."

  And then there was a moment's silence, through which she could plainlyhear the loud beating of his heart, in which she could not find words tospeak, and yet there lay her hand in his, since it was powerless tocheck him.

  "Have I startled you, Marion?" he whispered low. "Did you not read muchof this in my letter?"

  She looked bravely up in his eyes. Her own were full of unshed tears.Her sweet face was lovely in the pale moonlight, and as once more shesaw the worship in his eyes, the flush of joy, pride,--of what elsecould it be?--again mantled her soft cheeks. She made no effort towithdraw her hand.

  "I have no right to be startled, Mr. Ray. I could not but see somethingof this all in your letter, though that might have been attributed to avery unnecessary gratitude. But I would not have you think anythinglike--like this due to me because of my interest in all that has takenplace this summer. We all thought--Mrs. Stannard and Grace and I--thatyou had been most outrageously wronged, and it did seem as thougheverything had turned against you, and I made Mr. Blake buy Dandybecause that seemed the only way to save him, too, from being abused. Icouldn't bear it. Oh, Mr. Ray, the letter did not half prepare me forall this! I _have_ liked you. I _do_ like you better than any man Iknow," she said; and now her swimming eyes were fixed full on his, andhis lips were quivering in their eagerness to kiss away the tears, buthe drew her no closer.

  "That in itself is more than I had a right to hope, that in itselfnerves me to tell you this. I go back to my duty with a stimulus and tomy temptations with a safeguard I never knew before. I never have beenworthy your faintest thought, much less your love."

  "Mr. Ray, don't say that! I know well that no man who has been such afriend of Mrs. Stannard's, such a friend to Captain Truscott and Grace,_could_ be what you paint yourself. Oh, don't think--don't think for aninstant I undervalue the gift; you--you shall not speak of yourself thatway! Do you think any woman who deserves a thought could fail to gloryin such a na
me as you have won? Oh, Mr. Ray, Mr. Ray, I hardly realizethat it is possible that you care for me! You, so brave and loyal anddaring."

  His eyes were blazing with a rapture he could not control. It was soinfinitely sweet to hear her praise.

  "You make me hope in spite of yourself, Marion," he murmured, withtrembling eagerness. "Oh, think; look way down into your heart, and seeif you cannot find one little germ of love for me,--one that I may teachto grow. Try, my darling, try. Ah, heaven! am I mad to-night?"

  And now her head was drooping again and her heart beating. She felt thatsince it had come she could not bid him go comfortless.

  "Only within the last day or two," she whispered, "have I been thinkingthat--that--I've been wondering how I dared write to you as I did whenyou were--in Cheyenne, wondering whether--if Dandy were not yoursto-day--I could find courage to say what I did to Mr. Blake.Does--that--tell you anything, Mr. Ray?"

  "Marion! Marion! Oh, my darling! let me see your face."

  She struggled one instant. She even hid it upon his breast, and thehelmet cords made their mark upon her blushing forehead; but quickly hetook her face between his strong, trembling hands, gently but firmlyraised it until his eyes could drink in every lovely feature, though thefringed lids still hid from him the eyes he longed to see.

  "Marion, sweet one. _Maidie!_ with all my life and strength I love you.Have you not one little word for me?"

  "What--must I say?" she murmured, at last, still shrouding her eyes.

  "Say,--'Will, I think I love you just a little.'"

  No answer. Only beating hearts, only quick-drawn breath, only thedistant call of the sentry, "Half-past eleven o'clock;" only the dyingstrains of the "Immortellen" wafting out through the open casements.

  "Try, Maidie," he whispered, eagerly. "Try before the call comes back tothe guard-house. Try before the last notes of that sweet waltz die awayfor good and all. Try, sweet love,--'Will, I think I do.'"

  A moment's pause, then--then--

  "Will, I--I _know_ I do."

  And the strong, straining arms clasped about her under that blessedcavalry cape, and the bonny face was hidden on his breast, and Ray'strembling lips were raining passionate kisses on that softly ripplingbang, just as the last thrill of the "Immortellen" dreamed away, and therich, ringing, soldierly voice of the sentry on number one echoed farout over the moonlit prairie the soldier watch-cry, "All's well."

  * * * * *

  What a gem of a morning was the morrow when they rode away northward!After the command had filed out of the garrison, led by the band ontheir placid grays, and the ladies all along the row had waved theirgood-byes and kissed their dainty white hands, and the children hadhurrahed and shouted and rushed out among the horses' hoofs in theireagerness to have one more farewell shake of the hand from some favoriteofficer or man, and two or three dames and damsels had stolen away tothe back rooms up-stairs, Marion Sanford stood with tear-dimmed eyes atthe window, gazing far out over the prairie at the long blue columndisappearing in the dust over the "divide." By her side stood GraceTruscott, twining her arms around that slender waist and clinging to herwith a new and sweeter sympathy. Who, who was the cynic that wrote thateven as she stood at the altar plighting her troth to the husband shehad chosen, no woman yet forgave the man whom, having rejected, she knewto have consoled himself with another? Grace never for a moment admittedthat Ray had been her lover in Arizona; he had been devoted toher--always--for Jack's sake; but there were those who thought thatonly a little encouragement would have tumbled Mr. Ray over head andheels in love with her in those queer old days. But all that was past.There was no doubt that Mr. Ray was desperately, deeply in love now, andthat two women in that garrison--Mrs. Stannard and Mrs. Truscott--knewit well, and rejoiced that his love was requited. But, late as it was,Ray had had a very happy yet earnest talk with Marion on their returnfrom the hop. He told her plainly that he had a term of probation toserve, and that not until he had freed himself from his burden of debtand furnished his quarters, so that he might not be utterly ashamed towelcome her to such a roof as even frontier cottages afforded, he wouldnot ask her to be his wife; he would not ask her to consider herselfeven engaged to him. He had no right, he said, to speak to her of hislove, much less to plead for hers; but that was irresistible,--'twasdone. Long engagements are fearful strains, and our social license ofquestionings renders them wellnigh intolerable to men and women, whonaturally shrink from speaking of matters which are to them so sacred.Ray declared that she should not be harassed by any such torturing talkand prying and questioning as that which has to be undergone by almostevery girl whom civilized society fancies to be engaged. She could neverdoubt him for an instant, he felt assured, and he--well, he couldn'tbegin to realize his blessed fortune at all, so she must excuse _his_incredulity; but he declared he would leave her utterly untrammelled.There should not even be an "understanding." He would not ask her toaccept his class-ring, all he had to offer, but write to her he _would_.Grace and Mrs. Stannard should know if she saw fit, and Truscott, butno one else at Russell. Then, if she came to her senses when she wentback to New York and her friends the Zabriskies in November, and metsome fellow worthy her acceptance, why--but here a little white hand waslaid firmly upon his lips; he said no more, but compromised by kissingit--rapturously.

  But he, and Dandy, too, had come to say good-by before marching, andDandy's coat shone like silk, and he arched his pretty neck and lookedat her with his soft brown eyes as though he wanted to tell her he knewall about it, as indeed he did. Had not Ray gone into the stable earlythat morning while he was crunching his oats and whispered it all, andever so much more, into that sensitive ear? A famous confidant was Dandyon the long march that followed, for Ray used to bend down on his neckand talk about her to him time and again, to the wonderment of his"sub." Ray breakfasted at Mrs. Stannard's the morning of the start, andwhen he came away and it was time to mount, he wore in the button-holeof his scouting-shirt a single daisy--Marion's own flower--and a tinyspeck of dark-blue ribbon. The yellow facings of the cavalry were linkedwith the Sanford blue.

  And wasn't Blake in a gale that morning? Rattling with nonsense andmisquotation and eagerness to be off, he strode from gallery to gallerywith his Mexican spurs clattering at his heels. He had bought in town alittle china match-safe, which he gravely presented to Mrs. Whaling as aslight addition to the collection of what she termed her brick-a-braw.He implored Mrs. Turner to sing to him just once, for singing was adoubtful accomplishment of hers, and she had already good reason to knowthat he had paraphrased one of her songs, because of her defectiveenunciation, into--

  "Some day, some day, some day I shall meat chew,"

  and she never forgave ridicule. He declared he meant to kiss Mrs.Wilkins good-by, and dared Mrs. Stannard to come down and see him do it;but when it was really time to ride to the head of his troop ofrecruits, he bowed to Miss Sanford with a knowing look in his eye, andbent low over her hand.

  "'Love sought is good, but given unsought is better;'

  and yet, fair lady, you fail to see the overpowering advantages ofaccepting mine. In the language of Schillerschoppenhausen, Ich habegeliebt und gelebt, which being interpreted means, I've loved and gotleft. Fare ye well." And away he rode, bestriding his horse like a pairof bent dividers on a broad grin.

  And Ray,--though pale from recent illness and confinement and lack ofthe old open air life,--never had he looked so full of hope and buoyancyand life as, after one thrilling little squeeze of her hand, he swunginto saddle, doffed his broad-brimmed hat to all, and went bounding awayto take his place in front of the long mounted line that awaited hiscoming. Then his voice rang out clear and firm and true, and with thedaisy nestling in his breast he galloped to the head of column. Duty,Loyalty, and Hope were leading on before.

  Two long weeks of marching it took to carry them to the romantic valleyin the Black Hills where the old --th so eagerly awaited them, andmeantime letters were flying to and
fro. Ray meant to bring his newriders and new horses in perfect trim to their regiments, and so madeshort marches and constant inspection of his stock. Heavens! what agloom had settled over the regiment that miserable day, when one oftheir number, having ridden into Deadwood, came back with a severaldays' old Cheyenne paper giving the fearful details of Gleason's deathand Ray's probable guilt. It was three days more before they met themail-stage fairly laden down with bags of letters for them. Stannard hadbeen almost sick, Truscott sad, silent, but incredulous. There had beena difference between him and Billings, for the latter was inclined tobelieve the story true, and Truscott said that he was prepared to hearthis from other men in the regiment but not from him. Eager as loversand husbands to get their mail, every man had dropped the letter hehappened to be reading when young Hunter, searching a later Cheyennepaper, set up a whoop that made the pine-crested heights echo again andagain. Then waving his paper and dancing like a madman, the youngsteryelled at the top of his voice,--

  "Ray's innocent! Ray's acquitted! 'Twas a deserter, Wolf, who did it!He's confessed. _Now_, Crane. By heaven, swallow your words!Wh-o-o-o-p!"

  Officers and men, the whole regiment sprang to their feet and cametearing to the spot, and such a scene of hand-shaking and shouting andjubilee the Black Hills never knew before or since. It was easy enoughfor the officers to hurry back to their letters from wives and childrenor sweethearts, but for hours the men kept up their hurrah; Ray had beentheir hero for years, and the affair of the July fight of Wayne'scommand had simply intensified the feeling.

  Naturally, the letters bearing the postmarks of latest dates were thosefirst opened. Fancy the faces of Stannard and Truscott as they read,letter by letter, backward through that summer's record. Turner lookedas sad and anxious as ever; almost the first one he opened said, "If youhave not already seen and read those that precede this, please burn themwithout reading. I was mistaken;" and Turner well knew that when hiswife got so far as to admit that she had been mistaken, it meant that insome way she had been playing the mischief. He never read, therefore,all her graphic details of Ray's mysterious flirtation with Mrs.Truscott, or of the thrilling evidence in Mrs. Turner's possession ofhis guilt. A good fellow was Turner, a loyal soldier and husband, wholoved his pretty and capricious better half, and deserved a still betterone.

  That night when the first keen frosts of October made the camp-firesdoubly welcome, old Stannard and Jack went off among the pines and builta little blaze all by themselves, and there talked gravely over thestrange events of the summer now so fully set before them in thosevolumes from Russell. All Wolf's wild infatuation. All Gleason's cunningmalice, and--ah! _De mortuis nil nisi bonum._ May God forgive him! AllRay's loyal and devoted services, and his cruel suffering and wrongs.What wonder was it that for days the regiment could talk of nothing butRay? What wonder that they could not fathom the secret of the tie thatmade Stannard and Truscott inseparable now? What wonder that those twoofficers obtained permission to ride forward a day's march and meet Rayand his command, and that when they came upon him cantering gayly upthrough Buffalo Gap, he hardly knew them, so gaunt, worn, and raggedwere they; they hardly knew him, so radiant was the halo of hope andlove around his once devil-may-care face; so earnest, so grave, yet sojoyous had become his once flippant, reckless mien. Yet, in their verygreeting, Ray well knew that deep and faithful as had been the oldtrust, there was new born from the harsh ordeal of this strange, sadsummer a friendship firmer, deeper, than ever earthly menace couldshake--a trust and loyalty that was registered in heaven. Not one wordfor hours was interchanged between Jack and Ray as to that scene inwhich he carried to Grace the letter Gleason had stolen, or found.Together, with Blake occasionally injecting his rattling comments, theytalked over all the sea of troubles through which he had passed, andtogether they would have mourned it all anew but for Ray.

  "No, major. No, Jack. I see well that it was all for the best. God knowsI have been ten times rewarded for anything I may have suffered then.There was a lesson I _had_ to learn, and did learn: that there arehundreds of people who think that when a man drinks at all there is nocrime that may not properly be lodged at his door. It _has_ been a hardsiege, but every hour has been inestimable in result and in reward."

  But before they rolled in their blankets that night Truscott looked himin the eyes one moment, then held out his hand.

  "Is it necessary for me to say how I value what you did and bore forGrace and me, Billy?"

  "Not a word, Jack."

  Then came the march to meet the regiment, the royal, ringing welcome, aday devoted to lionizing Ray, greeting the new officers, choosinghorses, assigning recruits to companies, and then a dash down theCheyenne, a week's ride in the glad October sunshine, and, one brilliantevening as they returned, heading in toward the agencies, there met themthe courier with despatches and letters, and Ray's heart went boundingup into his throat as four dainty envelopes, all addressed in the samehand, were lifted up to him as he sat on Dandy, and then Jack Truscottcame riding quickly to his side, his eyes glowing, though wet withemotion, his lips compressed, yet a world of joy and gratitude shiningin his face. Ray looked up eagerly, and their hands clasped.

  "I have a son, Billy, and all is well,--thank God!"

  * * * * *

  And then came the day when with the long skirmish lines deployed, far aseye could see, the --th, with the comrade battalions of the otherregiments that had shared the rigors of the Yellowstone campaign of '76,came sweeping over the open prairies from the north, and whirling inahead of them the sullen, scowling, blanketed bands of old Machpealota;"herding" them up the valley of the White River towards the agency, andpenning them between the glistening crags of Dancer's Butte and thebarrier bluffs on the other side, while MacKenzie's troopers, trim andfresh in their natty garrison dress, "rounded them up" from the southand west, and by night the work of disarming and dismounting the silentIndians was begun. New forces were all there ready to take the fieldagainst the hordes of Cheyennes still lurking in the mountains; but forthe --th the campaign of the centennial year was virtually over. A fewdays of rest and jubilee and greeting of old and new friends among theregiments there assembled, and then they turned their horses' headssouthward, gave one backward look at the valley where they turned thetables on the Cheyennes, where Wayne had so nearly sacrificed his wholecommand, where Ray had run the gauntlet of death by torture to savethem, where Truscott's night dash to the rescue had brought him chargingjust in time, and over the rolling prairies they marched to seek far tothe south their winter homes.

  Thither had Ray and Truscott already gone. The summer's work was done.The campaign was ended, and there came by telegraph from Cheyenne anotification that Lieutenant Ray would be needed as a witness on thetrial of the owners of that gambling-den in which the soldier Wolf hadbeen done to death. The "Gray Fox" was sending in his ambulance and astaff-officer at that very moment. He sent for Ray to bid him good-byand offer him the welcome lift. And just as Truscott was writing somehurried lines to Grace, cheering her with the news that in two weeks hecould reach her, the colonel laid a quiet hand upon his shoulder,--anunusual demonstration, and one that meant a good deal,--and said, "Ithas occurred to the general that you might like to go ahead with Ray,captain; he appreciates the circumstances under which you hurried tojoin us, and thinks that now Mrs. Truscott is entitled to claim you, soMr. Billings will send your orders after you by mail." He did not saythat he had himself gone to the general to ask this indulgence forTruscott, but so it happened that long before sundown the three oldcomrades, Truscott, Ray, and Mr. Bright, of the staff, were whirlingahead towards Laramie, and that the precious inmates of number eleven atRussell were electrified by the news that Jack and Will,--"Jack andWill!" would be there ten days ahead of the anticipated time.

  A blessed ten days they were. Grace and Baby Truscott were in readinessto welcome paterfamilias long before Mrs. Stannard, like sister Anne onthe watch-tower, reported the cloud of dust that told of t
he coming ofthe Laramie stage, and when that grimy vehicle finally drew up at thegate, and two eager warriors sprang out (maybe there were not dozens ofwatching eyes along the row!), there was Maid Marion down the walk witha troop of the garrison children flocking about her, and Mrs. Stannard(by special arrangement and request) was awaiting them on the piazza;and when Jack, after very brief and hearty greeting, was passed on intothe house and up the stairs, and into the hands of that awesomepotentate in petticoats before whom from the moment of their entry intothis world of troubles all men must bow in helpless submission--themonthly nurse, and the bronzed and bearded and somewhat haggard soldiermeekly surrendered himself into her custody, and was ushered by her intoa little room, where he was bidden to make himself as civilized aspossible in appearance, lest his war-worn guise should shock mamma andfrighten baby into convulsions, he obeyed in silence, nay, even withpropitiatory smiles and gestures. Ay, lay down your arms and bend thesuppliant knee, sheathe your useless sword, and hush to soothing whisperthe voice that thundered in command a week agone; hide away withnoiseless hand the heavy boot and clinking spur; off with belt andbuckle and scratching shoulder-strap, and don your softest dressing-gownand creakless slipper; submit to search for pins and needles you nevercarried; promise you will only talk just so much, and stay only just solong, and will sit only just in such a place and won't attempt toagitate her, "for we must still be very, very careful," and at last youare admitted, and you kneel by the white bed and hear the rapturousecstasy of welcome in her faint voice, and read of her sacred martyrdomin the white cheek and fragile hand, and glory in the pride and joy ofthat wondering, wonderful mother-look in the great, deep, lustrous eyes,and kiss again the warm, sweet lips that are heaven's nectar to thethirst of yours; and then--and then there is revealed to you thatlittle, wrinkled, ruddy head, all folds and puckers and creases, all theredder and uglier for contrast with the snowy bosom in which it twistsand burrows, and those expressionless, saucer-blue, liquid, blinkinglittle eyes, and tiny upturned nose, and puckering, gurgling, querulousmouth,--all that is visible from the folds of the white blanket worn asonly Indian and baby _can_ wear one; and you are bidden to declare thathe is the very, very image of you, bless his honeyed lips! and then youmust take him one minute,--nurse must let her see Jack with his babyboy in his arms!--and though fearful, you assent, and with reverent,prayerful gratitude, you receive your first-born to your heart, andthank God for the infinite mercy that has brought her, the sweet youngwife and mother, through her deadly peril, and then you would kiss thehelpless, staring, blinking, little blanket-framed face; but at firsttouch of those bristling moustaches a powerful spasm has convulsed thetiny features, and a vehement, plaintive, wailing protest bursts fromthe contorted lips, and then your son and heir is snatched away, and youstand like convicted felon, while nursey dandles and tosses and condolesand condones and cuddles. "Well, well, well, _did_ it nearly fighten itspessus, pessus life out with its horrid, awful, uggy beard? Well, itnever, never sall aden, _never_! No, nursey wouldn't let it." That's it,Jack; sit down and make the best of it. Your reign as lord and master isover and done with. Lo! Baby is king, and Mrs. Muggins is his primeminister!

  But, down in the pretty parlor, the returning soldier is still master ofthe situation. Thank heaven for the beneficence which surrounds thebirth of love with the supervisory ministration of no meddling oldwoman! Were it otherwise, the ancient and honorable profession of whichMrs. Sairy Gamp is the faithful exponent would never have been calledinto being. Ray and Mrs. Stannard were exchanging rapturous "so glad tosee you's" and shaking hands, and giving and receiving news about allmanner of people, while Marion Sanford was still some distance "down therow" with the romping group of youngsters, and chatting briskly withMrs. Wilkins and some of the infantry ladies for all the world as thoughRay were nowhere within a thousand miles. She wanted to keep faith withthe children, she said, and they made too much noise for Baby's slumberswhen playing about the house. Of course she looked, as did the otherladies, all eagerness to see the returning officers, and was quiteprepared to parry all thrusts which were certain to come,--all the deftinsinuations which people are so practised in giving under certainsuspected circumstances. Of course that moonlit interview the night ofthe hop had been seen by more than one, and told to more than a dozen,though Ray had kept between her and the couples that happened to be onthe gallery, and so concealed the sweet _denouement_, and his subsequentdevotions that night to Mrs. Turner and to Miss Whaling had completelybewildered them. For her sake, he had written, the matter should be somanaged as to subject her to as little questioning as possible. It wasalready arranged that she would be returning Eastward about the time theregiment got fairly settled in winter quarters. Already the infantrywere packing up and shipping their goods and chattels to their newposts, and it was just barely possible that, with a little dissemblingand apparent indifference, the train of talk might be thrown from thetrack. Mrs. Stannard's blue eyes danced merrily as she welcomed Ray, andthey gave one quick glance towards her that he might know where "she"was, and it was then arranged that he was to return to the house withcertain letters as soon as he could unpack his valise and change hisdress. By that time, too, Miss Sanford was recalled by a message fromGrace, and so when Ray reappeared and the servant ushered him into thecool, darkened little parlor, and scurried away to the kitchen toexchange confidences with cook, he had seen and spoken to all the ladiesof the regiment, and given them news of their lords, and had not yetexchanged one word with the lady of his love. For a moment he stoodthere, looking around at the familiar and dainty objects in the roomwhich he had pictured in his mind's eye a million times in that briefmonth; at the piano,--closed and unused of late; at the pictures andstatuettes, and the quaint little odds and ends in the way of"what-nots," book-stands, tables, and chairs; at the broad and invitinglounge with its beautiful covering and soft pillows, and the bear-skinrugs at the foot; at the rich silk and bamboo screen of Japanesehandiwork that kept the chilling draught from the piano or work-tablewhen the ladies were there, and was big enough to form a completeenclosure about them,--their "corral" he had termed it,--and, _was_ thather footstep on the floor above? No! Too heavy and slow. The maid hadjust gone up with the mail; besides, her room--_Her_ room was now on theground-floor, off the dining-room. Why _didn't_ she come? She must knowhow hard all this assumed indifference was to bear. She must know howeager he was to look once more into her sweet blue eyes and read theirshy welcome; she must know how his arms longed to enfold her. His eyeswere growing more accustomed to the curtained light, and he could seehis own reflection in the mirror between the windows, and noted withnatural satisfaction how bronzed and "serviceable" he was looking again,and then he thought it would be a good plan to draw that screen acrossthe end of the piano and hide behind it, and watch _her_ as she came in,before rushing forth to--well, wait a moment! _Would_ she be quiteprepared for so rapturous a greeting as he longed to give her? Eyes andlips and arms and breast were yearning for her, but, would she not beabashed at such a demonstration? It would serve her right for keepinghim waiting, and he took hold of the screen to draw it towards him, andthe screen unaccountably resisted. He dropped on his knee to loosen thefoot from a supposed catch in the heavy rug, and gave a stronger pulland away it came,--and there like Lady Teazle, only all sweet smiles andwelcome and blushes and shy delight, a lovely, winsome picture of lovingwomanhood, crouched bonny Maid Marion.

  "Maidie! Oh, you darling! you delight!" And his arms were about her inan instant. He sprang to his feet, and, despite attempted resistance andretreat, she was clasped to his heart, and held there,--held there closeand strong: held there so firmly that she could not get away, and so, indefault of other hiding-place, her face was buried on his breast,and--well, she had to put her arms _somewhere_. When does a woman lookso like a stick as when her own arms hang straight down by her sidewhile a lover's are twining about her? If you need confirmation of thisstartling theory, mademoiselle, simply take one look at that otherwisedelightful pict
ure "At last--Alone." Observe the ardor of thelover-husband; note the unresponsive droopiness of the charminglyattired bride, and defend the straight-up-and-down hang of that uselessarm if you can. She might, at least, take the stiffness or limpness outof it by simply placing the little hand on his shoulder, and that isjust what Marion did, until--until he himself seized and drew it aroundhis neck. The question as to how he should greet her had, somehow,solved itself.

  At last he raised her head. She was indistinctly murmuring something.

  "Pardon me, Miss Blue-Eyes; but--to whom did you speak?"

  "To you; I said that, if all the same to you, I would like to look atyou."

  "And what did I hear you call me?"

  "I said--Mr. Ray."

  "_Mr._ Ray! Are you aware of the fact that Mr. Ray is quite a thing ofthe past? very, very far in the past," he added, with deep and earnestfeeling in place of the playful tone of the previous words. "I have beenRay or Mr. Ray, or Billy Ray and 'that scamp Ray,' many a long year.Only one woman on earth called me always by the one name I strove toteach you, Maidie, and that was--mother. Am I not yet 'Will' to you?"

  A moment's silence, a moment's hesitation, and then, with blushingcheeks and beaming eyes, bravely, loyally, comes the answer: "Yes! Inevery thought, in every moment, only--it was not quite so easy to say."

  "And now, if I forgive you, will you tell me, since you have had thelook you demanded, just what it was you wanted to see in such asun-tanned specimen? What is there to warrant such flattering notice,Maidie mine?"

  She was looking up at him with such a halo of hope and love and prideand trust shining about her exquisite face; she stood there with onesoft little hand resting on his shoulder, while the other shyly pluckedat the tiny knot of dark-blue ribbon on his breast,--the ribbon that hadfastened her daisy to his scouting-shirt. He had relaxed the pressure ofhis arms, but they still enfolded her, and he looked the picture ofbrave young manhood blessed with the sweetest knowledge earth can give.Two big tears seemed starting from the blue depths of those shiningeyes. He bent fondly towards her.

  "What is it, sweet one? tell me."

  "I had been thinking of all you had written me of your past, and of allyour troubles and wrongs this summer, and wondering--wondering how anyone could think of the loyalty you had always shown to those youloved,--how any one could look into your eyes and say you would everdisappoint--my faith."