not fail to hear the caressing tone of her every word, or to mark his receptive but gloomy silence.  They could not mistake the voice,—­the form, shadowy though it was.  The girl was Nina Beaubien, and the man, beyond question, Howard Jerrold.  They saw him hand her into the light skiff and hurriedly kiss her good-night.  Once again, as though she could not leave him, her arms were thrown about his neck and she clung to him with all her strength; then the little boat swung slowly out into the stream, the sculls were shipped, and with practised hand Nina Beaubien pulled forth into the swirling waters of the river, and the faint light, like slowly-setting star, floated downward with the sweeping tide and finally disappeared beyond the point.

Then Jerrold turned to leave, and Chester stepped forth and confronted him: 

“Mr. Jerrold, did I not instruct you to confine yourself to your quarters until satisfactory explanation was made of the absences with which you are charged?”

Jerrold started at the abrupt and unlooked-for greeting, but his answer was prompt: 

“Not at all, sir.  You gave me to understand that I was to remain here—­not to leave the post—­until you had decided on certain points; and, though I do not admit the justice of your course, and though you have put me to grave inconvenience, I obeyed the order.  I needed to go to town to-day on urgent business, but, between you and Captain Armitage, am in no condition to go.  For all this, sir, there will come proper retribution when my colonel returns.  And now, sir, you are spying upon me,—­spying, I say,—­and it only confirms what I said of you before.”

“Silence, Mr. Jerrold!  This is insubordination.”

“I don’t care a damn what it is, sir!  There is nothing contemptuous enough for me to say of you or your conduct to me—­”

“Not another word, Mr. Jerrold!  Go to your quarters in arrest.—­Mr. Rollins, you are witness to this language.”

But Rollins was not.  Turning from the spot in blankness of heart before a word was uttered between them, he followed the waning light with eyes full of yearning and trouble; he trudged his way down along the sandy shore until he came to the silent waters of the slough and could go no farther; and then he sat him down and covered his face with his hands.  It was pretty hard to bear.

XV.

Tuesday still, and all manner of things had happened and were still to happen in the hurrying hours that followed Sunday night.  The garrison woke at Tuesday’s reveille in much perturbation of spirit, as has been said, but by eight o’clock and breakfast-time one cause of perplexity was at an end.  Relief had come with Monday afternoon and Alice Renwick’s letter saying she would not attend the german, and now still greater relief in the news that sped from mouth to mouth:  Lieutenant Jerrold was in close arrest.  Armitage and Chester had been again in