"The doctor, sir, and the two young ladies--out for a drive."

McLean was silent for a moment. Mrs. Miller had gone home some time before on household cares intent, and the doctor was by this time out of the garrison. It left the patient master of the situation.

"Get this chair out on the gallery," he presently said, as he slowly raised himself to his feet and leaned for support against the table.

"Put a robe and pillow in it. Then come back and help me out."

The soldier demurred and would have argued, but Mr. McLean silenced him, and presently, in his best blue fatigue-coat and with a white silk handkerchief around his neck and his fatigue-cap tilted over one eye, the young officer, leaning on the attendant's arm, slowly made his way into the open air and was soon comfortably ensconced in the big arm-chair again. Several men of his company, smoking on the piazza of the quarters across the parade, arose, put away their pipes, and came over to stand attention and salute their popular lieutenant, and to say how glad they were to see him able to sit up again. It touched McLean's sad and lonely heart to see the pleasure and the trust and faith in their brown, honest faces, and the tears came welling up to his eyes as he held out his hand, calling them by name to step up on the gallery where he could see them better and give each man a cordial though feeble response to the hearty pressure of their brawny hands. Then he bade the attendant, after a little chat about Mr. Hatton's condition and the more hopeful news, to take them in and give them a drink of Monongahela; but Corporal Stein promptly declined: he wouldn't have it thought they came with that hope, when their sole wish was to congratulate their young officer; and, though one or two of them, not so sensitive as the corporal, doubtless took him to task at a later moment, they one and all upheld him now. They would not go in and drink, but presently returned to their barracks, comforted with the reflection that they had done the proper thing.

Meantime, Miss Forrest had seen their approach, and, hearing the voices on the lower gallery, readily divined that Mr. McLean must be sitting up and taking the air. Five minutes after the men were gone, and as that young gentleman was wondering about what time the carriage would return, he heard a quick, light footstep along the wooden floor, the rustle of feminine skirts, and almost before he could turn, the cordial, musical voice of the Queen of Bedlam:

"Mr. McLean, how rejoiced I am to see you sitting up! This is simply delightful."

For an instant he knew not what to say--how to greet her. Heavens! what thoughts of that gloomy council went surging through his brain. He tried to speak, tried to conceal his grievous embarra.s.sment, but his gaunt face flushed painfully and the thin hand he extended in acknowledgment of hers was cold as ice. The nurse promptly brought a chair, set it close by the side of the big arm-chair; then as promptly vanished, as she gracefully thanked him and took it. This was a contingency that had not occurred to McLean for an instant. His whole idea had been to be where he could see Nellie's face, possibly receive a smile and bow, possibly a joyous word or two on her return. He had been able for the time being to forget all about Miss Forrest and the part he had been compelled to play in surrounding her with that web of evidence and suspicion, and now, at this most inopportune moment, here stood this gracious and graceful girl smiling at his side.

For a few moments more it was she who did most of the talking; Hatton, Captain Terry's Grays, and the fight down the Platte furnishing her with abundant material for blithe comment and congratulations. His constraint and solemnity of mien she attributed to physical suffering combined with distress of mind over the charges she believed to have been laid at his door; and, while avoiding all mention of that subject, it was her earnest desire to show him by every trick of woman's infinite variety and shade of manner that she had nothing but admiration for his soldierly conduct, and trust and friendship for him in his troubles. Poor Mac was but vague, unresponsive, and embarra.s.sed in his acknowledgments, and then--she noted how his eyes were constantly wandering away up the road, and, with woman's quick intuition, divined that he was out there for no other purpose than to watch for the return of the doctor's carriage.

Presently it came in sight, driving rapidly, and, recalling everything that she had heard from Mr. Holmes in their recent talks of the doctor's distrust and antipathy toward McLean, Miss Forrest quickly arose and stepped to the end of the gallery. She had determined that the young soldier should not be balked in so modest a hope as that of seeing and being seen by the girl he loved. She felt a.s.sured that unless he was signalled or checked in some way the doctor would drive by "full tilt," and, with the quickness of thought, she had formed her plan. The sight of f.a.n.n.y Forrest, standing at the north end of the gallery and holding aloft her white palm in the exact gesture of the Indian and frontiersman signalling "stop," was enough to make him bring the powerful team back on their haunches directly in front of the steps, and, before a word could be said in explanation, there, flushing feebly, was Randall McLean, striving to lift himself from his nest of robes and pillows, and salute the lady of his heart.

Lachlan stepped quickly forward from the hall and, with him on one side and Miss Forrest smiling on the other, McLean was half lifted to the railing, where he could look right into the bonnie face he longed to see. Nellie Bayard, sitting nearest him, flushed crimson at the first glimpse at the tall, gaunt figure, and her little hand tightly closed beneath the lap-robe on the st.u.r.dier fingers of Miss Bruce. A joyous light danced only one instant in her eyes, and died out as quickly as the flush upon her cheek at sight of Miss Forrest's supporting arm. Was this, then, the engagement which prevented her acceptance of the doctor's offer? Was this the way in which the hero of her girlish dreams should be restored to her,--with that bewilderingly handsome and fascinating New York girl at his side, almost possessively supporting and exhibiting him? The sight had stung the doctor too, and the same idea about the engagement seemed to flash through his head.

"This will never do, Mr. McLean," he sternly spoke, "you are in no condition to venture out; I'll be over to see you in a minute. Get back to your room as quick as you can." And with these words he whipped up his team again, and the carriage flashed away. Nellie had not spoken a word.

For a moment they stood there stunned. McLean gazed bitterly after the retreating vehicle a moment, then turned with questioning eyes to his silent companion. She, too, was gazing fixedly after the doctor's little party, her color fluttering, her eyes glowing, and her white teeth setting firmly. Then impulsively she turned to him:

"This is all my fault, all my stupidity, Mr. McLean; I might have known. Forgive me for the sake of my good intentions, and depend upon it, good shall yet come of this, for now I have a crow to pick with Dr.

Bayard, and I mean to see him before he sees you. Are you going in,--at once?"

"Yes. There's nothing else to do," he answered, wearily, hopelessly, wretchedly, as he slowly turned away.

"Mr. McLean!" she exclaimed, with sudden and irrepressible excitement of manner. "Stop!--one moment only. There's something I must say to you. Lachlan, please step inside the hall," she hurriedly continued.

"I'll call you in plenty of time before the doctor can get here. Now, Mr. McLean, listen! I know something of your trouble. I know something of the toils by which you have been surrounded, and how unjustly you have been treated; but let me tell you that the very man you have most feared is the man of all others who stands your steadfast friend. Look!

He's coming now. Coming fast, too--from the telegraph office. I almost know what it is he brings. One more thing I must say while yet there is time. I could not help seeing how your heart was bound up in Nellie Bayard. Nay, don't turn away in such despair. I read her better than you do, and I know you better than you think. I tell you brighter days are near. Keep up a brave heart, Mr. McLean. Remember your name; remember 'The race of Clan Gillian--the fearless and free.' I tell you that were I a man I could envy you the truth I read in Nellie Bayard's eyes. All is coming out well, and there's my hand and my heart full of good wishes with it."

He took it wonderingly, silently. Good heavens! Was this the woman who, through his testimony, stood accused of degrading crimes? Was it possible that she could have been the criminal, and yet at the very time could write those mysterious words upon the hidden card--proffering aid and friendship? What manner of woman was this now quivering with excitement at his side, her glowing eyes fastened on the rapidly advancing form of Roswell Holmes? What meant she by speaking of the man he most feared as his most steadfast friend?

Just as Major and Mrs. Miller with Dr. Bayard stepped upon the broad gallery of Bedlam at its southern end and stopped in embarra.s.sment at sight of the group at the other, Mr. Holmes had bounded up the steps and, placing in her hand a telegraphic despatch, held forth his own to Randall McLean.

"Read it aloud!" was all he said, and eagerly she obeyed:

"CHUGWATER, Friday, 4 P.M.

"ROSWELL HOLMES, ESQ., Fort Laramie.--Parsons streaking it for Cheyenne. Has plenty money. Close at his heels.

"DRAKE."

XIX.

Whatever sensation or suppressed mystery may have existed at the post prior to the receipt of the brief despatch announcing that the soldier, Parsons, had "bolted," it was all as nothing compared with the excitements of the week that followed. Miller's first impulse, when Mr.

Holmes placed the brown sc.r.a.p of paper in his hands, was to inquire how it happened that a civilian should concern himself with the movements of his men, either in or out of garrison, but something in the expression of Miss Forrest's face as she walked calmly past him on the way to her room, and in the kindling eyes of this popular and respected gentleman gave him decided pause.

"There is a matter behind all this which I ought to know, is there not?" was therefore his quiet inquiry; and when Mr. Holmes a.s.sured him that there was, and the two went off together arm in arm, leaving Mrs.

Miller to wonder what it all could mean, and to go in and upbraid her pet lieutenant for venturing from his room when still so weak, it was soon evident to more eyes than those of Dr. Bayard that something of unusual interest was indeed brewing, and that the ordinarily genial and jovial major was powerfully moved. In ten minutes the two men were at the telegraph office and the operator was "calling" Cheyenne. An hour later, after another brief and earnest talk with Miss Forrest on the upper gallery of "Bedlam," Mr. Holmes's travelling wagon rolled into the garrison and away he went. At midnight he was changing horses at "The Chug." The next day he was at Cheyenne and wired the major from that point. Two days more and he was heard from at Denver, and then there was silence.

At the end of the week Private Parsons, of Terry's Grays, who had been carried for three or four successive mornings as "on detached service,"

then as "absent without leave," was formally accounted for as "deserted," and it began to be whispered about the garrison that grave and decidedly sensational reasons attended his sudden disappearance.

Dr. Bayard had a long and private interview with the commanding officer, who showed him a letter received from Mr. Holmes, and went home to Nellie with a dazed look on his distinguished face. The sight of Randall McLean, seated on the front piazza, and in blithe conversation with that young lady and her friend Miss Bruce, for an instant caused him to halt short at his own gate, but, mastering whatever emotion possessed him, the doctor marched straight up to that rapidly recuperating officer, who was trying to find his feet and show due respect to the master of the house, and, bidding him keep his seat, bent over and took his hand and confused him more than a little by the unexpected and really inexplicable warmth of his greeting.

McLean, who had been accustomed to constraint and coldness of manner on the part of the post surgeon, was at a loss to account for the sudden change. Nellie, whose sweet eyes had marked with no little uneasiness her father's hurried coming, flushed with relief and shy delight at this unlooked-for welcome; and Jeannie Bruce, to use her own expression when telling of it afterward, was "all taken aback." She and Mrs.

Miller had between them planned that Mr. McLean should walk over with the latter, early in the afternoon, just as though out for a little airing and to try his legs after their unaccustomed rest. Nellie and Miss Bruce were to happen out on the piazza at the moment (and the details of this portion of the plan were left to the ingenuity of "Bonnie Jean" herself, who well knew that it must be accomplished without a germ of suspicion on the part of her shy and sensitive little friend), and McLean was to be escorted in by Mrs. Miller, who was presently to leave, promising to come back for him in a few moments.

Then, when the ice was broken and Nellie was beginning to feel more at ease after the mysterious estrangement and this sudden reappearance of her old friend, Jean, too, was to be called away and the pair be left alone. Arch plotters that these women are! They had chosen the hour when the doctor almost invariably took his siesta, and both ladies had warned their friends on no account to select that opportunity to rush over and congratulate the lieutenant on his convalescence,--a thing the Gordon girls would have been sure to do. Miss Bruce had gone so far as to ask Mrs. Miller if she did not think it might be well to "post" Miss Forrest, who had been almost daily seen conversing with Mr. McLean since he began to sit out on the gallery again; but Mrs. Miller promptly replied that there was no need to tell Miss Forrest anything.

"She has more sense than all of the rest of us put together," were the surprising words of the reply, "as I have excellent reasons to know."

What could have happened to so radically change Mrs. Miller's estimate of and regard for the "Queen of Bedlam?" was Jean Bruce's natural question of her mother that night, and Mrs. Bruce was in a quandary how to answer and not betray the secret that had been confided to her. From having avoided and distrusted Miss f.a.n.n.y Forrest, it was now noticeable to the entire garrison that Mrs. Miller was exerting herself to be more than civil.

It was too late to change the plan of the afternoon's campaign when the major's orderly came around to Dr. Bayard's with the compliments of the commanding officer and a request that the doctor join him at his quarters as soon as possible. Although he was gone nearly an hour, he returned before McLean had been with the girls more than a quarter of that time, and changed their apprehension into wonderment and secret joy by the extreme--almost oppressive--courtesy of manner to his unbidden guest.

"It was just as though he was trying to make amends for something," said Miss Bruce, in telling of it afterward. Be that as it may, it is certain that after urging McLean to take a good rest where he was and to come again and "sun himself" on their piazza, and being unaccountably cordial in his monologue (for the younger officer hardly knew how to express himself under the circ.u.mstances), the doctor finally vanished. Jeannie Bruce was so utterly "taken aback" by it all that for some minutes she totally forgot her part in the little drama. Then, suddenly recalling the _role_ she was to play, despite the appeal and protest and dismay in Elinor's pleading eyes, Miss Bruce, too, sped away and the two were left alone. From the south end of the gallery at Bedlam Miss Forrest looked smilingly upon the scene and would fain have rewarded Bonnie Jean by blowing a kiss to her, but Jeannie's eyes were focussed on a little party of hors.e.m.e.n just dismounting in front of the commanding officer's.

They might bring news from the cantonment,--perhaps a little note from her own particular hero, Mr. Hatton.

Nearing them she recognized the leader as a sergeant of Captain Terry's troop, and knew well from the trim appearance of the men and their smooth-shaven cheeks and chins that they were just setting forth, not just returning from the field. The adjutant came hurrying down the steps of the major's quarters just as she reached the gate, and raised his forage-cap at sight of her.

"You can start at once, sergeant," she heard him say. "Now remember: to-morrow evening will be time enough for you to land your party at Fort Russell. Report on arrival to the commanding officer, and permit none of your men to go into Cheyenne until he sends you. Then you are to return here with whatever may be intrusted to your care."

She was not at all surprised on reaching home to find her mother and Mrs. Miller watching with eager eyes the departure of the cavalrymen.

McLean and Nellie Bayard saw it too, and it gave them something to talk about a whole hour that afternoon, and paved the way for another talk the next day--and the next.

That night, in quick succession, the telegraph brought four despatches to Laramie. As in duty bound, the messenger went first to the commanding officer, who held out his hand for all four and was surprised at being accorded only two. "These are for Miss Forrest, sir," said the messenger. The major broke the envelope of his own, glanced at the first, and snapped his fingers with delight and exultation.

"They've got him, Lizzie!" he chuckled to his eager helpmate. Then he tore open the other. The glad look vanished in an instant; the light of hope, relief, and satisfaction fled from his eyes and the color from his cheeks. "My G.o.d!" he muttered, as his hand fell by his side.

"What is it, dear?" she queried, anxiously.

"Forrest is coming--post-haste. Will be here to-morrow night. Now she's got to be told."

"Then, as it is all my fault, I must be the one," was the reply.

But even as they were discussing the matter, irresolute, distressed, there was a ring at the bell; and in a moment who should enter the parlor, holding in her hand those fateful telegrams, but Miss Forrest herself? She came straight toward them--smiling, and Mrs. Miller and her half-dazed major arose to greet her.

"I suppose I may be taken into official confidences to-night; may I not, major?" she said, gayly. "Mr. Holmes has probably wired us news which we can exchange. I congratulate you on the recovery of your deserter, and you can rejoice with me in the recovery of my diamonds."

"Your diamonds!" exclaimed the major and his good wife in a breath.

"When--how were they taken? Why did you not tell us?"

"They were taken from my room--from my locked trunk--the night of Dr.