Boyd made her a too low and over-courtly bow.

“Always the gallant and victorious adversary salutes the vanquished as you, fair lady, have saluted me—­ imputing to my insignificant prowess the very skill and address which has overthrown me.”

“Are you overthrown?”

“Prone in the dust, mademoiselle!  Draw Mr. Loskiel’s knife and end me now in mercy.”

“Then I will strike....  Who is the handsome wench who passed us but a moment since, and who looked at you with her very heart trembling in her eyes?”

“How should I know?”

They stood looking smilingly at each other; and their smile did not seem quite genuine to me, but too clear, and a trifle hard, as though somehow it was a sort of mask for some subtler defiance.  I reflected uneasily that no real understanding could be possible between these two in such a brief acquaintance; and, reassured, turned to greet our macaroni Ensign and Mistress Angelina Lansing, now approaching us.

That our regimental fop had sufficient diverted her was patent, she being over-flushed and smiling, and at gay swords’ points already with him, while he whisked his nose with his laced hanker and scattered the perfume of his snuff to the four winds.

So, two and two, we walked along the road to Croghan’s house, where was a negro wench to aid them and a soldier-servant to serve them.  And the odd bits of furniture that had been used at our General’s headquarters had been taken there to eke out with rough make-shifts, fashioned by Alden’s men, a very scanty establishment for these three ladies.

Lana Helmer, to my surprise, motioned me to walk beside her; and all the way to Croghan’s house she continued close to me, seeming to purposely avoid Boyd.  And he the same, save that once or twice he looked at her, which was more than she did to him, I swear.

She was now very serious and sweet with me on our way to Croghan’s, not jeering at me or at any of her teasing tricks, but conversing reasonably and prettily, and with that careless confidence which to a man is always pleasant and sometimes touching.

Of the old days we spoke much; the past was our theme—­ which is not an unusual topic for the young, although they live, generally, only in the future.  And it was “Do you recall this?” and “Do you remember that?” and “Do you mind the day” when this and that occurred?  Incidents we both had nigh forgotten were recalled gravely or smilingly, but there was no laughter—­ none, somehow, seemed to be left either in her heart or mine.

Twice I spoke of Clarissa, wishing, with kindliest intention, to hear more of the unhappy child; but in neither instance did Lana appear to notice what I had said, continuing silent until I, too, grew reticent, feeling vaguely that something had somehow snapped our mutual thread of sympathy.

At the door of Croghan’s house we gathered to make our adieux, then first went mincing our Ensign about his precious business; and then Boyd took himself off, as though with an effort; and Lana and Angelina Lansing went indoors.