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so, but he anticipated nothing worse. He had talked it all over with Miller before setting forth on his rounds, and knew just what to say. Most women were reassured and rendered hopeful, but Mrs. Forrest's

spirits were at low ebb and she required consolation in double allowance. Bayard lingered with her, nothing loath, hoping that Miss Forrest might come into the family sitting-room to hear his version of

affairs at the front. Even after Mrs. Forrest was talked out, and the font of her ready tears was nearly pumped dry, he held his ground, examining Maud's and Vickie's juvenile tongues and dandling baby Hal

to that youngster's keen delight. But no one came along the hall whose step sounded like hers, and at last his patience gave out.

"And how is Miss Forrest this afternoon?" he asked.

"Still confined to

her room and bed, doctor, but she says she means to get up and dress this evening. Now, do you think it prudent for her to go out in the night air?"

"On general principles, Mrs. Forrest," answered the

doctor, slowly and impressively, "I should say no, but I have no knowledge of the merits of this case. You will remember that my services were virtually declined by the young lady in favor of those of the

assistant."

"I know, doctor, I know. Fanny is simply the most incomprehensible creature I ever met. I cannot understand her at all, and it's useless for me to talk to her. I told her that you were the

family physician, and pointed out to her that a simple regard for the proprieties ought to show her how much better it would be to call you instead of a gentleman so much younger; but she pays no attention

to anything I say. She never has."

Bayard winced not a little at the invidious comparison on the score of age, but, now that the subject was opened, he desired to "prospect" a little. There was another

view to be taken, and one far more flattering to his amour propre. Probably, in the coyness of a woman who had recognized the lover in his looks and language, Miss Forrest had tacitly admitted his claim to

be regarded as such by summoning another, not a lover, to attend her professionally. If this hypothesis proved correct he would have some grounds for hope. Two things, however, he greatly desired to know

before taking the plunge. First, was it possible that Mr. Courtlandt proposed leaving her a lump of his large fortune? Second, was it possible that she had already given her heart to another? He well knew

that on neither point would Miss Forrest be confidential with so weak a vessel as her sister-in-law; but, on the other hand,--and the doctor reasoned well,--he felt sure that, in order to reconcile her to

having Fanny as an inmate of their household, Captain Forrest had been compelled to tell her why he had withdrawn his sister from such luxurious surroundings in New York and brought her to share his humble

fare as a soldier on the far frontier. He had heard from a dozen sources how Forrest had almost painfully truckled to his querulous wife; always pleading, explaining, conciliating; always fearful of saying

or doing, or leaving unsaid or undone, something, the doing or neglecting of which was sure to wound her sensitive soul and bring on a flood of tears and reproaches. "If she were my wife," said blunt old

Bruce, "I'd pack her off home to that doting father she's always prating about, and I'd keep her there until she arrived at years of discretion. It is simply pitiful to see a big, stalwart, soldierly fellow

like Forrest led around by the nose like a ringed bull by that ridiculous and lackadaisical creature." Beyond doubt there would have been far more happiness all around if Forrest had firmly set down his foot

and refused to be longer the victim of her whims and caprices. There would doubtless have been a few days of sore lamentation and despairing appeals to be restored to her father's arms (where she was not at

all wanted, that estimable ecclesiastic having only recently taken thereto a successor to her sainted mother); but in the end she would have respected him far more and been happier in obeying him. Like many

another husband, poor Forrest was at times conscious of his duty in the case; but, like most others, shrank from the ordeal. Bruce himself, so savagely critical of the weakness of other spouses, was

notoriously subservient to the wishes of Mrs. Bruce; but she never had to resort to tears to accomplish her object, and was thoroughly in unison with her husband in his condemnation of Forrest's weakness.

"Poor, poor fellow!" she was saying to herself this very day. "With such a fool for a wife and such a--such a sharper for a sister!"

So confident was Bayard of his ground that he had decided, days since,

on his plan of attack. He would not ask direct questions, for her husband had doubtless pledged her to secrecy. He would delicately but unhesitatingly speak of Miss Forrest as though he had full knowledge of

her past, and he felt assured that he could read in the patient's face, even in the unlikely event of her silence, whether or no his theories were correct. Besides, he had ventured an inquiry or two of an

old New York associate and club-fellow, a man who had known the Courtlandts well.

"We must not judge Miss Forrest harshly, dear lady," he soothingly remarked, after a moment of deep thought and apparent

hesitation. "I confess that I felt a little aggrieved at first when she saw fit to summon Dr. Weeks despite the fact that I was in the house as your physician two or three times a day; but, after thinking it

all over, her motives were apparent and--quite natural. You probably did not know that I was well acquainted with Mr. Courtlandt, did you?"

"No! were you?" asked Mrs. Forrest, with dilating eyes. "And

Fanny knew,--and did not tell me----"

"Yes. We were members of the same club, and I used to see a great deal of him before coming West." It was very long before, and it was only seeing, but Bayard did not

care to explain this. He wished to convey the idea that his acquaintance with the old gentleman had been recent and confidential, and he succeeded.

"How strange that you should be here--where she is. I'm

sure Captain Forrest has no idea of it, doctor. Did--did you ever speak with her about--the Courtlandts?"

"Yes, once. Of course she did not care to talk of the matter at first. It was only when she found

that I knew Mr. Courtlandt so well, that she became at all communicative."

"And did she talk of her affair--of Mr. Courtlandt--the younger one I mean?"

"My dear Mrs. Forrest! We could hardly expect a

young lady to be communicative on such a topic as that. Of course there were some things I could not help knowing, and that is why I say we ought not to judge her harshly now. Her experience of last year was

not calculated to make a girl look upon the world with kindlier eyes, and the contrast between the life she leads now and that she led under her kinsman's roof is enough to dishearten any woman."

"I'm sure

I do everything I possibly can to make her content and happy," impetuously exclaimed Mrs. Forrest. "And it's all her own fault if she isn't. She--she needn't have come at all. Mr. Courtlandt told her and

told Captain Forrest that it should make no difference; but she is self-willed and obstinate, and nothing would do but she must quit his roof forever and come to be a burden on her brother, who has quite

enough to stagger under already." ("Hum!" thought Bayard at this juncture, "how little she realizes the truth of that assertion!") "Mr. Courtlandt had been devoted to her from her childhood, had lavished

everything on her, had educated her, sent her abroad, provided for her in every way, and--she rewarded him by taking this silly prejudice against his son, whom she ought to have had sense enough to know he

expected her to marry."

Bayard's pulse gave a leap, but his fine face made no sign. Professional imperturbability alone expressed itself. She paused one instant for breath. Then it occurred to her that

perhaps she was broadly trenching on forbidden ground and revealing that which her husband had bidden her keep inviolate. Bayard read her like an open book, and promptly took the initiative before she could

question.

"And yet, Mrs. Forrest, would you have had her--a woman of such superior attainments and character--would your husband have had her marry a man to whom she could not look up?--whose character

and, pardon me, whose habits were so, let us say, unsettled?"

"Then she ought to have left before. I know she says she never dreamed of its being her uncle's plan or hope,--never dreamed that the young man

was in earnest. It was all nonsense to say she couldn't marry a man whom she did not look up to and respect. He is only a year younger than she is, and lots of girls marry men younger than themselves,--

especially when such a fortune was involved. Why! Mr. Courtlandt would have left them everything he had in the world, if she would only have consented."

"But women form their own ideals, dear lady, and she

may have had a man in view whom she did look up to, honor, and love. Is not that a reasonable theory?" And the doctor's eyes, full of sympathy and deference, watched his impulsive patient narrowly withal.

How well he knew her! She fell instantly into the trap.

"But she hadn't! I could forgive her easily if that were so, but she told the captain it was purely and simply that she could not and would not marry

Philip Courtlandt or any man like him."

"But I fancied from what--from various circumstances--that the young man was very dissipated--dangerously so, in fact. Would you counsel your sister to marry such a

man?"

"Well, why not? He has been wild, I know. My husband looked into the whole case, and, of course, he sustains her. Phil Courtlandt had to go into a retreat once, but I believe it was because she

treated him so. His father was sure that she could reform and make a man of him, and he almost implored her to take pity on his gray hairs and save his boy. I tell you I think it was sheer ingratitude. Even

if she couldn't have reformed him, there would have been all that money." And Mrs. Forrest sighed pathetically at thought of the thousands her hard-headed, hard-hearted sister had refused. Bayard,

congratulating himself on his success thus far, had still another point on which he desired information,--a vital point.

"What seems so bad about the whole matter," he said, after a sympathetic echo of the

lady's sigh, "is the disappointment of old Mr. Courtlandt. No doubt, despite their cousinship, this has long been his cherished scheme; and it must make him--at least I do not wonder that it makes him a

trifle bitter against her."

"Why, doctor, that is one of the queerest things to me! One would suppose that any girl of ordinary gratitude would try and repay and appreciate such devotion as has been

lavished on her. She simply repels people who try to be loving to her. I'm sure I've tried every way in my power. Of course, at first he was very bitter and said some severe things,--at least she so told

Captain Forrest,--but she has no right to treasure them up against him. He said he had reared and educated and cherished her purposely to be the salvation of his wayward son, and, as she would not have the

son, he said she could not live under his roof. Then he had always given her a liberal allowance, besides paying the most extraordinary bills, and she hurt him fearfully--I know she did--by refusing to

accept it afterward. He has sent it to her even here, and she almost hurls it back at him,--and here are Maud and Vickie without a decent dress to their names," wailed Mrs. Forrest in somewhat irrelevant

conclusion, and the tears welled again from her weary eyes.

Bayard was again silent a moment, waiting for his patient to recover her composure and her tongue. It was comfort to think that, at least, Mr.

Courtlandt's munificence was still a fact. But how about the future?

"Anything that might tend to widen the breach between them would, of course, be deplorable," he presently said; "but I infer, from the

fact that he continues to send her allowance to her, that he will be apt to provide liberally for her in his will."

"He would do anything for her, I've no doubt, despite her ingratitude; but she has told

Captain Forrest that after what has passed she cannot and will not accept a penny from him. Now what can one say to a girl like that?"

And this question the doctor could not answer. After a few moments'

thought, he arose as if to go.

"I am heartily glad to know that she is so much better this afternoon. These are anxious days for us all, and it is not to be wondered at that so many of our ladies are

prostrated. Will you kindly say to her that I called to inquire after her, and am rejoiced to think we will soon be able to welcome her out again? And, Mrs. Forrest, you might say to her that it would

gladden my little girl if she would come over and sit with her or sing to her. Elinor has been very low-spirited to-day, owing, no doubt, to the fact that Jeannie Bruce has been in tears much of the time

since Hatton left. Good-afternoon, Mrs. Forrest. Good-by, little ones." And the courtly doctor took his leave.

As he descended the stairs with characteristic deliberation and dignity, Celestine came forth

from the dining-room and met him at the foot of the stairs.

"Mr. Holmes is come, doctor," she said, showing her white teeth. "Specks he'll be glad to find Miss Nellie sittin' up again. T'warn't no use 'n

Miss Fanny t' try to catch him, 'n' I told her so when she was writin' to him. He's out yahnder along with Major Miller now."

And though the doctor frowned majestically and strode by the gabbling hussy

without a word, it gave him an uncomfortable start to hear her words. What had happened that Fanny Forrest should be writing now to Roswell Holmes? This was something to be looked into.

XVI.

It was

nearly two days before authentic news came in from the Niobrara, where Hatton's little command had been "corralled." Just as at first reported, the Indians in overwhelming numbers had suddenly charged down