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THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, APRIL 21, 1895 N R V—CoNTINUED. And so Rorke could find no satisfactory solution of the ever-vexing -question. Twice or thrice he accosted Graice and strove to draw him into talk, but the new- comer se ed to shut up e an oyster in | the presence of the Irish corporal, and was surly and defiant in manner, a_great con- to the joviality he displayed when ng comrades to take a hand at 'he recruits had hardly any money tra solic 1 Graice had won what little there was when on the way to Frayne, and had wormed his way into the g set that is apt to be found in | 1i comers who have money nd for a few weeks for- tune se rile upon the neophyte. He knew, he protested, very little: of but he played for fellow- he kept sober when won, and then came accusatio! foul play and a row, and the barracks game was broken up, only to be resumed at night in the re- sort across the Platte, and there wk 80 E L/ CAPT. CHAS. KING - Cliw e L/ 0 o e | addition to her maidenly store of gowns | and furbelows and kickshaws. Really, the | idea of Kitt; scomiui and turning every- L thing topsy-turvy in the household didn’t strike her as being so inappropriate now | after all, for Aunt Lou, whom Kitty had not seen in years, was still young and vola- | tile enough'to feel the influence of dress | upon one's views of life, and from being | actually incensed at the initial excite- | ment and preparation, Lucretia first grew | reconeiled; then, as her own remem- | brances came with the early installments of goods and chattels, manifestly inter- | ested, .and later, infected with ‘all her | brother’s marked enthusiasm, for one | wonderful day Lucretia almost fainted | with excitement and delizht when the colonel came over from the_office, wearing | a face of unwonted perplexity and dismay, | and, when the maiden asked the cause, n heart stood still an instant, tered wildly at his reply. ssed old day-dreamer, Wayne, O Lord! ‘i:ordervd here for duty. Why? ves, I remember.” Nearly twenty years before when she was but a girl of 19 and Wayne a lone subalt- rn, there had been a long winter in which seemed to have no joy for either e or Miss Fenton save in the hours Every one vowed they must bée en- Lucretia believed it must but the days dragged on. spent in each other’s society. at Leavenworth Indee gaged. | come any ere players, and there pse info intemperate me the long, long nights and by the ember came, his reputation as a “tough” 1 throughout the garrison or four of the most dissolu of the command bhad cut loos: irely, a matter he regretted onl cause payday was at hand. The soldier would then have money in plenty for a few short, feverish hours. Th sr}nuu.-n i settlers had none until oldiers were “strapped,” and so Graice and three or four Ishmaelites like unto himself were left to the concentration of brutality to be found in one another’s so- ciety. The winter, as has been said, set in early, and when Dece; r came duties were few and hours for sleep and recreation were many. Time was hanging heavily on the bands of those whose brains were empty, and there was rejoicing among the house- holds along offi ters of the married soldiers, for Christmas was not far away. Garrison balls were all the go among the rank and file. Hops were frequent among the officers and ladies, and, while other soldier swains found bliss and enjoyment in the society of the half dozen maidens wintering at the fort—guests and relatives of officers’ familie -one inconsolable fellow watched and waited, watched and waited, | with feverish impatience for the coming of a certain train on a certain for the coming of mother and sister to his own roof, revisiting as inmates of the quarters of the junior second lieuten- ant the post where three years. gone by they occupied the house of the com- manding officer. But boy lieutenants do not consume with feverish longing for the coming of blood relations. Proud and glad as was Will Farrar at the idea of welcom- ing the queen mother and sweet sister Ellis to his roof, it must be owned that the tnrill of his impatience was all due to the fact that that same train was to bring Miss Kitty Ormsby to become for the time being an inmate of the army home now presided over by loguacious Aunt Lucretia. And Will Farrar was not the only man in this bi, bustling garrison to look for- ward to this coming with strange and sweet emotion. There are natures upon which the first strong, fervent love of man- hood leaves an impress indelible even when the object of that love has {assed out of one’s life, possibly into the keeping of another and happier man. Aunt Lucretia couldn’t understand why on earth her brother, the colonel, should be so fussy and excited about Kitty Ormsby’s coming. Why on earth should he insist on sending away to Cheyenne for new carpets, cur- tains, furniture, and_ all manner of con- traptions, to say nothing of swell new uni- forms from New York, all because that precious little chit of a niece was coming to spend a month or so at Frayne. Lucre- tia thought it was ridiculous, Of course, it was her brother's own affair. He wasa well-to-do bachelor, with no one but her to take care of, and he could do as he pleased, especially when he pleased to in- sist on surprising her with some charming s’ row and in the quar- | me of the | day, | | Wayne came ever, but the fateful words were never spoken up to the moment when he was ruthlessly hurriei away to bear his part on a frontier campaign, and rarely, and then onlyfor a moment or two, had they ever met again. Wayne was one of the wonders of the army, the best fellow that ever lived in almost every way, said almost every one who knew him, and yet at once a trial and a delight. Without ex- ception, he was the most ahsent-minded, dreamy man in all the service, and the sries of his absurdities were innumer- able. It was Wayne who asked Miss Sanford to the german at Leavenworth and was found playing whist at the gen- eral’s at 10 o’clock. It was Wayne who kept dinner waiting for his arrival at the same general’s two evenings later and was found by the orderly on his way to town to | call at the rector’s. " It was Wayne who ap- | peared at the garrison hop one evening in | cavairy trousers and a black clawhammer; Wayne, who implored his brother officers to keep him constantly reminded that it was Mrs. Burton now and not Mrs. Hallett, | as he had known her for years, upon whom | they were about to call, and who, after in- | finite mental labor, had well nigh finished | the interview without a break, only to dash lit all by precipitating himself upon the new possessor of those charms and co&eli- “Hal- | ing him with confusion by saying: lett, old b%’, hearty congratulations!” It was ayne who immortalized | himself at Royle Farrar's christen- ing when, as was the hospitable way of {he army, the officers and ladies were bid- den to the ceremony and caudie, by wish- ing the proud young mother “many happy returns.”’” It was Wayne who huneg his pince-nez on his finger and was seenjvainly struggling to set his seal ring on his aquiline nose; Wayne, who gravely took his post as captain commanding battalion parade one evening with his helmet wron, side foremost and without his saber. It was Wayne who, as senior officer present, had to toast the mother of the bride at a gorgeous wedding breakfast on a famous occasion, and plumped down into his seat expectant of joyous ap- plause only to be confounded by an awful silence, followed an instant later b{ an outburst of irresistible, uncon- trollable, almost hysterical, laughter, led by that blessed matron herself, for T ‘ayne had wound up his halting, stum- bling incoherencies with the astounding sentiment, ‘‘And I am sure I can wish the lovel{ bride no future more—more—de- lightful than that she may grow ever more —more beautiful than her beautiful mother—and—and—and m-more—more— er—virtuous.” No wonder Fenton, with all his likin for the man, felt appalled at the idea o having for second in command an officer just as apt to get thingsinextricably mixed on drill as he was in daily life. No one could ever count on Wayne’s getting a thing straight. He was absurdity itself, as has been said, and yet so penitent, so dis- tressed when ‘any one became involved through his propensities as actually to win the affection of his verx victims. "He was the soul of truth and honor and knightly bravery. He woke up under fire to an en- thusiasm that was grand. He was gener- ous, tolerant, kind as kind could be, and, but for this one trait, as reliable and thor- | to ough a friend as man could ask. Butwhat could a woman do with a lover like that? And, all of a sudden, Colonel Fenton had recalled the almost forgotten episode of Lou’s early romance, and wondered what new complication might not now arise. Verily, it promised lively developments for old Fort Frayne, did this bright and bracing December, for, full a fortnight be- fore the sacred anniversary,the Karrars, with the gentle invalid’s now devoted and inseparable comgnnlon, Helen Daunton, and Bachelor Will had turned his whole little house into a bower for the women folks, while he, as he expressed it, “took a bunk in Billy Camp’s,” next door. And Kitty was to journey with them, and Will was to have leave to go as far east as Omaha to meet them, for they were to travel to that point unescorted, Jack Ormsby, whom Will had looked u%on as certain to be on hand, being still abroad, and probably no one but Ellis knew why. At the very time when, no longer an employe now, but his own master and a suceessful, driving, thrividg business man, Jack Ormsby thought he had some chance of being looked upon as a suit- able suitor, at least from the point of view of worldly goods, he found the lady of his devoted love nervous, embarrassed and anything but kind., Ever since her father's death she had seemed to like him well. She had spoken to him of the pros- pect of his being with them when they went to the seashore the summer of Will's raduation, and he had intended to go and join them when they returned from the mountains, where they spent July, but first there was the week of camp with his beloved Seventh, and then, just as he was hoping to run down the Jersey shore for a lovelySSunday by her side, there came a summons to arms, and every man of Jack’s company answered the call, and the Sev- enth, in'fuller ranks even than it appeared in camp, went striding away to face the thugs and toughs and rioters of greater Gotham; and there was a week of trying, exasperating duty, and then a fortnight of invalidism as a result, for Sergeant Orms- by got an ugly gash as his share of the cas- ualties from brickbats, and erysipelas set ntil late September did he see n, just after Will had gone, and then his doctor advised a sea voyage, for he could not understand his patient’s un- favorable symptoms, and then followed a short sojourn abroad. Wounded sorely in his honest heart, Ormsby went, and when he returned to Gotham the Farrars were gone to Frayne. CHAPTER VI. For several days_ Trooper Graice had been in the guardhouse. Absent from check roll call, from his quarters over night and from Teveille, he had turned up at sick call with a battered visage and all the ear marks of a drunken row. He had been haunled up bhefore a summary court, Major Wayne's first duty after reporting at the post, and received sentence of fine with a scowling face and no word of plea for clemency or promise of betterment. What cared he for fines? He could win more in a night than they could stop in a month. He was out again doing penance with the police-cart about the post the day the available transportation came driving back from the railway with a load of precious freight, and Trooper Graice, splitting wood in the major's backyard, dropped the ax with a savage oath and turned a sickly vellow for one minute when he heard the busy tongues of the domestics next door proclaiming the arrival of Lieutenant Farrar's mother and sister. The sentry on duty over prisoners bade him stop his swenrinpxunfi getto work again, for Captain Leale was a man whose eyes were ever about him and whose ears never seemed to lose a sound, but the captain glanced keenly at the soldier with his brace of malcontents and hurried on. Tt was he who opened the door of the stanch Con- cord and assisted the ladies to alight— arrar, Eilis and a stranger, a gentle- M woman, evidently, yet one who scemed to shrink from accepting aid or attention, and whose beautiful blue eyes ever followed friend, Mrs. Daunton, my older friend, Captain Leale, of whom vou have heard so much,’”” were the words in which these two were made known each other, whiler Will and the servants were tumbling out bags and rugs and wraps, even as another and similar ve- hicle was being unloaded in front of the colonel’s. Leale dined en famille at the Farrars’ that evening, Will proudly pre- siding, as became the head of the house and the foot of the table, and beaming upon his mother, who sat facing him and rejoicing in his happiness. Very bright and cozy were the prettily furnished quar- ters, for, with boundless enthusiasm, the ladies of the garrison had aided the young gentleman in making them attractive against the coming of the wife of their honored old colonel and his fair daughter, and right after dinner the visitors began to arrive, welcoming, army fashion, the old friends long endeared to all the older members of the garrison, men and women both; and, while Mrs. Farrar and Ellis had hosts of questions to ask and answer. Captain Leale found himself interested in entertaining the stranger, to whom all this blithe and cheery intercourse, all the cor- dial, hospitable, homelike army ways, were s0 odd and new. It was tattoo when he rose to leave, and met poor Wl without— ‘Will, who had twice gone up to Fenton's, hoping to steal a word or two with Kitty, only to find that such portion of post so- ciety as was not gathered about his mother and sister wascongregated at the colonel’s, and then, fatigued by the journey, and showing plainly the effect of the excite- ment of her arrival, Mrs. Farrar was in- duced to seek her room, while Ellis re- mained in the parlor to chat with others still comingin to bid them welcome home, and not until long after 10 were the lights turned down in No. 5, and not until even later did they gleam no longer from the big house on the edge of the bluff. Whatever trepidation her friend had felt as to the effect of this return upon Mrs. Farrar, it was soon evident thatit was groundless. Even the day on which she returned Lucretia’s call and was received in the familiar rooms, once her own, she controlled admirably every sign of deep emotion. She seemed happy in being with Will, her idolized boy, and was never tired of watching him as he strode or rode away upon his various duties. An admirable soldier was Will, as all the officers ad- mitted. Devoted to his duties, full of snap, spirit and enthusiasm, a fine drill instructor and teacher of the non-commis- sioned officers’ school, yet ever handl- capy{]ed by that exuberant boyishness and by the fact that to save their souls the old soldiers and their families seemed to find it absolutely impossible at first to forget him as “Masther Will.” Many of the old sergeants and their wives had come to pay their respects to Mrs. Farrar and to talk. as she loved to hear them talk of the colonel they loved so well and mourned so loyally. One and all they rejoiced in saying everything that soldier speech conld frame in praise of their new lieutenanty their boy officer, their colonel's soldierly son, even while struggling against the im- Enlse that ever possessed them to refer to im as Masther Will, or as he hated still more to be called, Masther Willie. Little by little army punctilio had prevailed, and most of the men had learned to refer to him respectfully as ‘“the lieutenant,” and to brace up and salute him with all the gravity and precision lavished on Fenton or Leale. Hven the Irish trumpeter, with whom he had ridden races and played hookey and gotten into all manner of mischief about the post in bygone days— McQuirk, at first could not suppress the affable grin that overspread his freckled “mug” at sight of his whilom playmate as a full-fledged officer, bearing the Presi- dent’s commission. But Mac was sav- agely roasted by Sergeant Stein and other elders, and did his best to amend. It was Terry Rorke that was incorrigible. Time and again he broke the rules he laid down for himself, and as Terry had been the household “striker”” in the days when it was Captain Farrar and they first lived at Frayne, he found especial favor in the gentle eyes of the widowed mother and was encouraged to come and see her, for in all that crowded garrison he alone could recall her first-born, her handsome, dar- ling, dauhin%hkoyle. when he was a boy of 14. To all the world he was an outcast, but the mother heart had never yet been able to guench the flame of love that, burning like a beacon in her pure and prayerful heart, seemed ever beckoning him to return. Yes, Terry Rorke had never jorgotten ‘‘Masther Royle,” and he alone could come and talk with her of the son, when all the rest of the world would oniy',e too gladly believe him dead and for- gotten. Thrice had Will, bustling into the hall- way, as was his custom, without knock or ring, come suddenly upon his mother in conference with his old friend and hers, and Rorke had sprung to attention and stood like a statue and had_striven to say “the lientenant,”” and not “Masther Will,” in his reference to his officer, but Will plainly showed he thought this frequen,g coming an imposition. ‘‘Mother, dear, said he one day, if old Rorke is annoying yon by coming so often I can give him a gentle hint,” “Anuoying? Why, Willie, dear, I love to talk with him. He was the most faith- ful, devoted creature we ever knew. All through your boyhood he watched over you, and ‘he was almost the only friend your poor brother seemed to have.” i “T ‘appreciate all that. mother,” said Will, tugging uneasily at his budding mus- tache, ‘‘at least, I try to, but, all the same, iou know, it isn’t ‘the thing. Of course orke never presumes exactly. T under- stand that, and he only comes because you bid him, and then it is usually to the back door, and all that, but still it's the effect of the thing on the other men, and it's time he Wasfiearning to understand I'm no | lonier Master Will.” Ah! there was the rub. Two days be- fore, in presence of Will’s fair little lady i brother’s last parade. Mrs.- Daunton had not gone with them to the Point. Craney’s was crowded in June, and Mrs. Farrar and Ellis would go nowhere else. For the week they were therethe services and ministra- tions of a companion might, perbaps, be dispensed with, and Helen remained at home. But the evenin’;xe after grm‘lunfioni when they were all seated in the parlor of their New York home, and il was lounging at the window, delighted with the life and bustle of the city streets, and vaguely longing to get out and air his new “eits,” yet not quite daring to go to Kitty’s in them, because she declared she’d never speak to him except in uniform, and Mrs. ‘arrar was leaning back in her easy chair, fanning herself slowly, with her eves and thoughts on her_ boy, even thoagh Helen Daunton was reading aloud to her along, interesting letter, there came a shout from Will that brought the blood to Ellis’s face and drove it instantly from Helen Daun- ton’s. Confronting each other as they sat, each saw and marked unerringly the effect upon the other of Will’s jubilant announce- ment: “Here’s Jack Ormsby.” Helen made her escape from the room | that night before he entered, had never | been in the parlor on the occasion of his i brief visits thereafter, yet had seen him. | | Ellis never forgot how theevening of his last call, when his card eame up to her she remembered that Mrs. Daunton was | searching at that moment for a book in | the library back of the parlor. She noted | that Helen did not come at once away, as_had been her wont. She lingered a few minutes over the last touches to her toilet, for, even though she was distrustful, “ EVEN AS HIS EYES WER E SEARCHING FOR ELLIS.” love, had one of Rorke’s lapses occurred, and the lieutenant had been Masther Willed and had reddened to the roots of | his hair, seeing which Kitty Ormst determined a tease as ever lived, had taken to calling him ‘Masther Will” on her own account, and thunderstorms were | imminent. There were other fellows, pre- | sentable fellows, in the garrison who were | quick to feel the fascination of this charm- | ing little niece of Fenton’s, and just the | moment Will showed a disposition to sulk | she showered smiles and sunshine on the first subaltern to appear, and thereby drove | Will nearly rabid. Had his comrades ven- | tured to dub him *“Masther Will,” there | would have been a row. Had any of the other belles of the garrison so transgressed he would have turned his back upon her then and there, and so elegant 2 dancer and reputedly wealthy young officer was not to_be offended, even though he was believed to be in love before Kitty came and known to be the instant she appeared. But Kit could and did torment himn with- out mercy, and without fear of conse- uences, and, before she had been at Frayne’s a week, was makinglife a burden for ‘the fellow who had prayed for her coming as a sweet blessing. And 50, like the big outside world, .the Jittle community of Fort Frayne was liv- ing its life of hopes and fears, smiles and tears, love and jealousy and hate, while Kitty had speedily made herself complete- ly athome, and was tyrannizing over every- body at the colonel’s, as well as over Will, and tormenting Aunt Lucretia by making eyes at Major Wayne, who never saw them, while Wayne had got to drifting over to the new colonel’s almost every even- ing, just as twenty years ago heinfested the quarters of his o]g riend at Leavenworth, arousing once more all_the 'fluttermi of that maidenly heart, and, while Mrs. Far- rar, rejoicing in the evidences of love and reverence in which her husband’s name was held on every side, and in the honors Will was winning in his chosen profession, and even while she found comfort in the fact that one faithful old friend could recall her wayward boy as he was before dis- honor and disgrace had swamped him, she would have been less than a woman had she been insensible of Fenton’s repressed but unvarying devotion. Never intruding, rarely cz\flin , he was gentleness, tender- ness personified in every look and word. It was evident that all these years had never served to banish her image from his heart. Mourner_though she may be, can woman live and mnotjrejoice in know- ing herself the object of so much love on every side. Widower though even by a few brief months, does she resent it that the man lives who would be glad to teach her to forget? Life was not without ro- mance then, even to one who had lost her best beloved not three years §one by, and for whose first born she still shed bitter tears. And to another sorrowing heart, to an- other gentle and stricken soul this wintry sojourn on the far frontier was brmfi{mlg strange emotion, Day after day had Mal- colm Leale been a visitor at the Farrars. Time after time had he found himself seated in conversation with the woman whose beauty of face had thrilled him on the day of her coming, and whose sweet, subdued but gracious manner had charmed him more and more. First to notice his marked preference for Helen Daunton’s so- ciety was Ellis Farrar, who noted it with mixed emotions, with an interest of which she felt ashamed, and which she strove to repress. For months she had been strug- gling against herself, or rather against some strange distemper that was not her- self, for the pang of jealousy with which the girl had marked her mothe:’s depend- ence upon Mrs. Daunton when Ellis re- turned from school had deepened and taken forceful root early that graduation summer. Her jealousy had been doubled jealous of her lover, she was woman enough to loose mno chain that bound him. Her heart was fluttering and her face was pale, as she stepped into her mother’s room and bent to kiss her forehead, and Mrs. Farrar looked at her wistfully, as though half ready to plead for the honest fellow she had grown to trust and honor. From Mrs. Daunton Ellis had wrung the admission that some years ago she had met and known Mr. Ormsby. From Jack Ormsby she bad learned that he had never known a Mrs. Daunton in_his life, and her heart was filled with misgiving asshe went swiftly down the stairs, turned sharply at the bottom and in an instant stood at the library door. Just as she expected, there, peeping through the heavy meshes of the portiere, invisible to any one in the parlor, vet able to study its occupants at will; | there clutching ‘the silken folds in her beautiful white hands, with ‘a face pallid and quivering with emotion, with great tears trickling down her cheeks; there, deaf to her coming, stood Helen Daunton, gazing spellbound at the man who had dared to approach her—Ellis Farrar—in the guise of a lover. And Jack Ormsb{‘ had vowed that never until he met her had he known what it was to love a woman, vowed that his heart had been all her own ever since the winter of her father’s death, ever since the bitter day he had to break to her the dreadful news, and yet, here before her eyes, was evidence that this woman could look upon him only in uncontrollable emotion. at folly to talk to her of never having seen Helen Daunton before! And even then an idea flashed upon her. Under some other name he must have known her, and though he might deny the name he could nor deny the woman. Jealous, doubly jealous, she sought to bring them ace to face, and entering the li- brary, quickly turned on the elec- tric * light and would have opened the portiere and bade him come to her there, but Helen Daunton turned and fled. All Ellis could afterward extort from her was that in her unhappy past Jack Ormsby had befriended her—stood by her in the sorest need, and she would be grateful to him to her dying da{. “And yet,” said Ellis, ever doubtful and suspicious, ‘“you refused to see him, you shrank from him, you would not meet him.” But to this there was no refil{; That night was Ormsby’s last cal fore he went abroad. And now, with Christ- mas near at hand, and her jealousy ever wrestling with her better nature, and the resgcct even the regard she felt growing within her for this lovely woman, who was so devoted to her mother, Ellis Farrar knew not what to think or say when she noted the unerring signs of Malcolm Leale’s Srowing love and of the evident pleasnre, espite all her gentle reserve, the woman felt in his society. 2 = Even to Helen then the coming Christ- mastide was bringing that which' women Erize and welcome. Only Ellis in all the usy garrison found no comfort in the happy season, for the lover she longed and longed to see was by her own act banished from her life, Day after day, as December wore on, and she_noted the faint color that had come back to her mother’s face, and even at this altitude, so far up toward the heights of the Rockies, her mother’s heart gave no symptoms of distress, Ellis grew ti ankf for their coming, even when she heard that Ormsby had stint, returned and was aj in New York. Day by day, asshe watche Mrs. Daunton, all her old fears and fancies seemed uhan*ed to silence. So gentle, so ure hearted) so full of ce and loving indness she seemed. Sometimes it was even on Ellis’ lips to speak an impetuous appeal, to throw herself on Helen’s mercy, roclaim the injustice, the cruelty of her jealousy and her suspicions, but to im- plore her to tell the whole truth. They Al by an event that occurred shortly after her who watched soon saw that even in pro- portion as Mrs. Farrar grew in gladness and health and new lease of life from her coming to Frayne, it was Ellis who was drooping day by day. Yet, proud and plucky and determined, the girl bore up against her sorrow, redoubled her devotion to her mother, strove hard to interest her- self in Will's friends, was attention itself to Will’s imperious sweetheart, wio little dreamed what thought of brother Jack was really in that hidden heart, and was makin, heroic effort to belicve that all would ye come right, and dperhaps Jack, too, when there came an odd adventure and renewed jealousy and dismay. Only four days more to_Christmas eve. All preparations were being made for a genuine old-fashioned Christmas ball for the officers and their families, and a Christmas gathering for the rank and file. NEW TO-DAY. A s sesisslstat SEMS o o (ITTTEPARL- The big assembly-room of the post, over across the parade, near the old log Full’d- house, was to be the scene of both.” In lov- ing memory of her husband, Mrs. Farrar bad had a farge portrait painted in New York, which, beautifully framed, was to be hung in the assembly-room and given to the regiment as an Xmas gift. Already detachments had been out in the Medi- cine Bow country, bringing in huge loads of evergreens and pines, and the men were hard at work with the decora- tions. Terry Rorke was in his glory, for as majordomo of the Farrars long years before” he had never let the year go by without rigging up the Christmas trees and the briim festoons of greens. Even Crow Knife, heathen though he was from Terry’s Catholic voint cF view, seemed Elad to take a hand, and the sounds of ustle and preparation were so like those that rang throughout the fort three years before that people feared the thoughts in- spired by the sounds might only serve to sadden Mrs, Farrar. But, on the contrary, she seemed full of sweet and gracious in- terest. Ellis, hoverin§ about her constant- ly, found her own fears allayed. Then came 8 ty})ical December evening. Clear and sharply cold, with abundant snow under foot and a cloudless sky overhead. The sun had just gone down, after fling- ing his royal robes of red and purple about the distant mountains. The gun had an- swered with its thunderous salute, and the flag had come fluttering down. Far away up the canyon the whistle of the express seemed a farewell to Frayne as the train sped swiftly on its westward way. They had been out for a brisk walk, Will and Kitty, Ellisand Lieut. Martin, her brother’s chum, and several other young people of the post. There was good skating down the Platte, where the snow had been swept away, and many of the little party came back dangling their skates in their hands, and the keen air was joyous with langhter and merriment, as_they climbed the bluff under the colonel’s {lflnzza,and came in sight of Wayne and Miss Lucretia sedate- ly spooning at the gate, and far out on the road to the station they caught sight of the Concord spinning postward with the mail, and Kitty was persuaded to come over a moment to No.5 before dressing for dinner, and there at the gate the party had dispersed, Ellis and Kitty entering the house, where Will promised to join them in a little while, ang there Mrs. Farrar had joyously welcomed them, and there they were seated, the four, while the servant came in to light the lamps and draw the curtains, and Kitty was chattering like a magpie and Ellis listening with only languid interest, though her mother and Mrs. Daunton were full of smiles and sympathy, when the Concord went bustling up the road without, and still the chat went on, for no one there was interested in the Eastern mail just then, and allon a sudden Will’s voice was heard without, joyous, hearty, ringing. *“By Jove, old fel- ow! This is just too good for anything! No, no, come right in, right in here— mother’ll be delighted—Kitty’s here and Ellis.” The door opened, and big men in furs were ushered in, and Kitty gave a scream and precipitated herseif upon the breast of the foremost and hugged and kissed and cried over him a bit, even as he was striving to shake hands with Mrs. Farrar, even as his eyes were searching for Ellis, even as he was brought face to face with a woman who had turned deathly white, who strove vainly to squeeze past him to the doorway, who bowed her head into her very breast as she sought first to avoid, then "to hurriedly acknowledge the embarrassed, wondering, troubled saluta- tion of the new arrival, for at the instant his eyes fell npon Helen the voice of Ellis fell upon his ear: “My mother’s friend, Mr. Ormsby, Mrs. Daunton.” And all he could find words to say was simply her name, “Mrs. Daunton?” [To be continued.] Copyright, 1895. A MAIDEN’S DREAM. No football awakens the mansion Asleep in the sun's warm Tays, ‘The Lady Clare is a-weary Of silence and lonely days, Love's magic of late has stolen The charm from her life's still ways. She starts from her book and rises To gaze through the casement low The langoarous lily perfumes Toward her on soft airs blow— White lilies! A, once she loved them, She gathers red roses now. Oh, when will the noon be snnset, And over the green hillside, Apd up through the beeches’ shadows ‘The lover she looks for, ride? And when will this life be ended, And bring the bright life untried? While thus she waits in impatience, Naught guesseth the Lady Clare That sweet as are love's red roses, Full often a thorn they bear, And the new life that seems so joyous, May bring with it welght of care. Perhaps in the years that follow, ‘When cares press heavily, And the thorns. 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