“Still it is possible you may be mistaken,” Keith rejoined after a moment’s discouraged silence, “and since I have your permission, I shall try what clever courting will do for me.”

A momentary silence followed, broken by Captain Raymond.  “I fear I am a foolish, fond father, Keith.  I have a very strong friendship for you, and there is no man to whom I would sooner trust my daughter’s happiness, but yet I cannot wish you success in winning her; because, being in the army, you would necessarily take her to a distance from her home and me.  But, as I have said, you may try, though with the full understanding that not for some years to come will I resign my custody of her.  She is my own dear child, and, in my esteem, still much too young to leave my fostering care and assume the duties and responsibilities of wifehood and motherhood.”

“I don’t blame you, Raymond, and shall not try to persuade her to go against her father’s wishes in regard to the time of assuming the cares and duties you speak of,” said Keith, heaving an involuntary sigh at thought of the years of bachelorhood still evidently in store for him.  “I only wish I were sure of her even after serving seven years, as Jacob did for Rachel.”

“Well, I shall not cheat you as Laban did poor Jacob,” returned Captain Raymond pleasantly.  “By the way, Cousins Dick and Maud made quick work of their courting, and the marriage is to follow very speedily.  In most cases such speedy work would be risky enough, but they know all about each other—­at least so far as a couple may before the knot is tied which makes them one flesh.  I think very highly of both, and hope it is going to be a most happy marriage.”

“I hope it may, indeed,” said Keith.  “Maud will be hurried with her preparations; more so than most ladies would like, I presume.”

“Yes; but really it will be just as well, I think, under all the circumstances.  To-morrow we are all to spend one half the day at Roselands, the other at Pine Grove; the next day we go to Beechwood; then Thursday we are to have the wedding at The Oaks, and that night, or the next morning, most of the friends from a distance contemplate starting for their homes.”

“Yes, I among the rest,” said Keith.

“I need hardly say, for surely you cannot doubt it, that I should be glad to have you remain longer with us if Uncle Sam would permit it,” said Captain Raymond with cordial hospitality.

“Thank you,” returned Keith, “but that is more than I could expect even were there time to ask it, which there is not.”  Then, rising, “It strikes me that it is high time to be making ready for bed.  Good-night, Raymond, my good friend; sweet sleep and pleasant dreams to you,” and, with the last word, he held out his hand.

Captain Raymond grasped it heartily, saying, “Good-night, Keith; I wish you the same.  May He who never slumbers nor sleeps have us all in his kind care and keeping.”