When Captain Rayner came in, half an hour afterwards, the parlor was deserted.  He was looking worn and dispirited.  Finding no one on the ground-floor, he went to the foot of the stairs, and called,—­

“Kate.”

A door opened above:  “Kate has gone out, captain.”

“Do you know where, Nellie?”

“Over to the hospital, I think; though I cannot say.”

She heard him sigh deeply, move irresolutely about the hall for a moment, then turn and go out.

At his gate he found two figures dimly visible in the gathering darkness:  they had stopped on hearing his footstep.  One was an officer in uniform, wrapped in heavy overcoat, with a fur cap, and a bandage over his eyes.  The other was a Chinese servant, and it was the latter who asked,—­

“This Maje Waldlon’s?”

“No,” said he, hastily.  “Major Waldron’s is the third door beyond.”

At the sound of his voice the officer quickly started, but spoke in low, measured tone:  “Straight ahead, Sam.”  And the Chinaman led him on.

Rayner stood a moment watching them, bitter thoughts coursing through his mind.  Mr. Hayne was evidently sufficiently recovered to be up and out for air, and now he was being invited again.  This time it was his old comrade Waldron who honored him.  Probably it was another dinner.  Little by little, at this rate, the time would soon come when Mr. Hayne would be asked everywhere and he and his correspondingly dropped.  He turned miserably away, and went back to the billiard-rooms at the store.  When Mrs. Rayner rang her bell for tea that evening he had not reappeared, and she sent a messenger for him.

It was a brilliant moonlit evening.  A strong prairie gale had begun to blow from the northwest, and was banging shutters and whirling pebbles at a furious rate.  At the sound of the trumpets wailing tattoo a brace of young officers calling on the ladies took their leave.  The captain had retired to his den, or study, where he shut himself up a good deal of late, and thither Mrs. Rayner followed him and closed the door after her.  Throwing a cloak over her shoulders, Miss Travers stepped out on the piazza and gazed in delight upon the moonlit panorama,—­the snow-covered summits to the south and west, the rolling expanse of upland prairie between, the rough outlines of the foot-hills softened in the silvery light, the dark shadows of the barracks across the parade, the twinkling lights of the sergeants as they took their stations, the soldierly forms of the officers hastening to their companies far across the frozen level.  Suddenly she became aware of two forms coming down the walk.  They issued from Major Waldron’s quarters, and the door closed behind them.  One was a young officer; the other, she speedily made out, a Chinese servant, who was guiding his master.  She knew the pair in an instant, and her first impulse was to retire.  Then she reflected that he could not see, and she wanted to look:  so she stayed.  They had almost reached her gate, when a wild blast whirled the officer’s cape about his ears and sent some sheets of music flying across the road.  Leaving his master at the fence, the Chinaman sped in pursuit; and the next thing she noted was that Mr. Hayne’s fur cap was blown from his head and that he was groping for it helplessly.