When the simple ceremony was over, Frona kissed Lucile; but Lucile felt that there was a subtle something wanting, and her eyes filled with unshed tears.  Trethaway, who had felt the aloofness from the start, caught an opportunity with Frona while Captain Alexander and Corliss were being pleasant to Mrs. Trethaway.

“What’s the matter, Frona?” the colonel demanded, bluntly.  “I hope you did not come under protest.  I am sorry, not for you, because lack of frankness deserves nothing, but for Lucile.  It is not fair to her.”

“There has been a lack of frankness throughout.”  Her voice trembled.  “I tried my best,—­I thought I could do better,—­but I cannot feign what I do not feel.  I am sorry, but I . . .  I am disappointed.  No, I cannot explain, and to you least of all.”

“Let’s be above-board, Frona.  St. Vincent’s concerned?”

She nodded.

“And I can put my hand right on the spot.  First place,” he looked to the side and saw Lucile stealing an anxious glance to him,—­“first place, only the other day she gave you a song about St. Vincent.  Second place, and therefore, you think her heart’s not in this present proposition; that she doesn’t care a rap for me; in short, that she’s marrying me for reinstatement and spoils.  Isn’t that it?”

“And isn’t it enough?  Oh, I am disappointed, Colonel Trethaway, grievously, in her, in you, in myself.”

“Don’t be a fool!  I like you too well to see you make yourself one.  The play’s been too quick, that is all.  Your eye lost it.  Listen.  We’ve kept it quiet, but she’s in with the elect on French Hill.  Her claim’s prospected the richest of the outfit.  Present indication half a million at least.  In her own name, no strings attached.  Couldn’t she take that and go anywhere in the world and reinstate herself?  And for that matter, you might presume that I am marrying her for spoils.  Frona, she cares for me, and in your ear, she’s too good for me.  My hope is that the future will make up.  But never mind that—­haven’t got the time now.

“You consider her affection sudden, eh?  Let me tell you we’ve been growing into each other from the time I came into the country, and with our eyes open.  St. Vincent?  Pshaw!  I knew it all the time.  She got it into her head that the whole of him wasn’t worth a little finger of you, and she tried to break things up.  You’ll never know how she worked with him.  I told her she didn’t know the Welse, and she said so, too, after.  So there it is; take it or leave it.”

“But what do you think about St. Vincent?”

“What I think is neither here nor there; but I’ll tell you honestly that I back her judgment.  But that’s not the point.  What are you going to do about it? about her? now?”

She did not answer, but went back to the waiting group.  Lucile saw her coming and watched her face.

“He’s been telling you—?”