on the frosty air, but Hayne’s curtains were drawn, and he was sitting before his fire, deep in thought, hearing nothing.  The doctor came in soon after he finished his solitary dinner, chatted with him awhile, and smoked away at his pipe.  He wanted to talk with Hayne about some especial matter, and he found it hard work to begin.  The more he saw of his patient the better he liked him:  he was interested in him, and had been making inquiries.  Without his pipe he found himself uninspired.

“Mr. Hayne, if you will permit, I’ll fill up and blow another cloud.  Didn’t you ever smoke?”

“Yes.  I was very fond of my cigar six or seven years ago.”

“And you gave it up?” asked the doctor, tugging away at the strings of his little tobacco-pouch.

“I gave up everything that was not an absolute necessity,” said Hayne, calmly.  “Until I could get free of a big load there was no comfort in anything.  After that was gone I had no more use for such old friends than certain other old friends seemed to have for me.  It was a mutual cut.”

“To the best of my belief, you were the gainer in both cases,” said the doctor, gruffly.  “The longer I live the more I agree with Carlyle:  the men we live and move with are mostly fools.”

Hayne’s face was as grave and quiet as ever: 

“These are hard lessons to learn, doctor.  I presume few young fellows thought more of human friendship than I did the first two years I was in service.”

“Hayne,” said the doctor, “sometimes I have thought you did not want to talk about this matter to any soul on earth; but I am speaking from no empty curiosity now.  If you forbid it, I shall not intrude; but there are some questions that, since knowing you, and believing in you as I unquestionably do, I would like to ask.  You seem bent on returning to duty here to-morrow, though you might stay on sick report ten days yet; and I want to stand between you and the possibility of annoyance and trouble if I can.”

“You are kind, and I appreciate it, doctor; but do you think that the colonel is a man who will be apt to let me suffer injustice at the hands of any one here?”

“I don’t, indeed.  He is full of sympathy for you, and I know he means you shall have fair play; but a company commander has as many and as intangible ways of making a man suffer as has a woman.  How do you stand with Rayner?”

“Precisely where I stood five years ago.  He is the most determined enemy I have in the service, and will down me if he can; but I have learned a good deal in my time.  There is a grim sort of comfort now in knowing that while he would gladly trip me I can make him miserable by being too strong for him.”

“You still hold the same theory as to his evidence you did at the time of the court? of course I have heard what you said to and of him.”

“I have never changed in that respect.”

“But supposing that—­mind you, I believe he was utterly mistaken in what he thought he heard and saw,—­supposing that all that was testified to by him actually occurred, have you any theory that would point out the real criminal?”