"How soon could you go?"
"First train, sir."
It was then too late for the single passenger express that daily went clanking over the prairies toward Cheyenne. But that afternoon was held a long conference at department headquarters, which caused some wonderment among the officers not included, Stone especially, and there were many eyes on Loring's grave face as he finally came forth from the General's room, and without a word of explanation went straight to his own.
"Wonder what he's been doing," said a man from the garrison, who had happened in in search of news.
Stone shrugged his shoulders, offered no explanation, but looked volumes. An aide-de-camp should never reveal what he knows of other officers' affairs—much less that he knows nothing.
The night came on, warm and stifling almost as the day. The window of Loring's room opened on the crude wooden gallery that ran the length of the hotel, and he kept it open from the bottom for such air as could be obtained. A note lay on the mantel shelf when he returned from the office late in the afternoon. This he had taken downstairs, inclosed it, unopened, in one of the coarse hotel envelopes, addressed and sent it by a messenger to Mrs. Burton's. At ten o'clock at night, in his shirt sleeves, he was packing a valise, when at the open window, on the gallery without, there appeared suddenly a slender, graceful, girlish form; a fair face gazed appealingly, imploringly in, and a soft voice pronounced his name.
Starting up, he stepped quickly toward the apparition. One instant the lovely face lighted with hope, joy, triumph, then changed to sudden wrath before the shade, pulled vehemently down, shut it from sight.
Even as she stood there, baffled, "a woman scorned" in the presence and hearing of another, who nevertheless stepped quickly forward to express her opinion of such heartless, soulless conduct despite the interposing shade, there came a sharp, imperative rap on Loring's door, and the summons "Wanted at headquarters at once, sir!"
And, weeping as though bereaved and forsaken, the younger woman threw herself upon the broad and sympathizing bosom of the elder.
"There, there, poor darling! Don't cry. Wait till Mr. Lambert and the General hear how he has treated you," said Mrs. Burton, "and we'll see what'll happen."