“Of course I must go,” continued Clara, unsuspicious of her aunt’s reflections.  “At all events he will support me.  Besides, he is now the head of my family.”

“Head of the family!” frowned Aunt Maria.  “Because he is a man?  So much the more reason for his being the tail of it.  My dear, you are your own head.”

“Ah—­well.  What is the use of all that?” asked Clara, smiling away those views.  “I have no money, and he has.”

“Well, we will see,” persisted Aunt Maria.  “I just told you so.  We will see.”

The two women had scarcely left the roof of the house and got themselves down to the large, breezy, sparsely furnished parlor, ere the lazy, dawdling Indian servant announced Lieutenant Thurstane.

Lieutenant Ralph Thurstane was a tall, full-chested, finely-limbed gladiator of perhaps four and twenty.  Broad forehead; nose straight and high enough; lower part of the face oval; on the whole a good physiognomy.  Cheek bones rather strongly marked; a hint of Scandinavian ancestry supported by his name.  Thurstane is evidently Thor’s stone or altar; forefathers priests of the god of thunder.  His complexion was so reddened and darkened by sunburn that his untanned forehead looked unnaturally white and delicate.  His yellow, one might almost call it golden hair, was wavy enough to be handsome.  Eyes quite remarkable; blue, but of a very dark blue, like the coloring which is sometimes given to steel; so dark indeed that one’s first impression was that they were black.  Their natural expression seemed to be gentle, pathetic, and almost imploring; but authority, responsibility, hardship, and danger had given them an ability to be stern.  In his whole face, young as he was, there was already the look of the veteran, that calm reminiscence of trials endured, that preparedness for trials to come.  In fine, taking figure, physiognomy, and demeanor together, he was attractive.

He saluted the ladies as if they were his superior officers.  It was a kindly address, but ceremonious; it was almost humble, and yet it was self-respectful.

“I have some great news,” he presently said, in the full masculine tone of one who has done much drilling.  “That is, it is great to me.  I change station.”

“How is that?” asked Clara eagerly.  She was not troubled at the thought of losing a beau; we must not be so hard upon her as to make that supposition; but here was a trustworthy friend going away just when she wanted counsel and perhaps aid.

“I have been promoted first lieutenant of Company I, Fifth Regiment, and I must join my company.”

“Promoted!  I am glad,” said Clara.

“You ought to be pleased,” put in Aunt Maria, staring at the grave face of the young man with no approving expression.  “I thought men were always pleased with such things.”

“So I am,” returned Thurstane.  “Of course I am pleased with the step.  But I must leave Santa Fe.  And I have found Santa Fe very pleasant.”