downstairs.
Hope sank lower as she descended; it seemed that their simple plot
must fail. Well, she sighed, at the worst it could only fail. As she
sat there waiting while twilight blended into the darker waters of
night, she reflected the many things which had overtaken her in the
two days past. Two incidents stood out above all the haste, confusion,
and pain which gave her sharp regret. One was that her father had
parted from her to meet his life's heaviest disappointment with anger
and unforgiving heart; the other that the shot which she had aimed at
Saul Chadron had been cheated of its mark.

There came a trampling of hoofs from the direction of the post,
unmistakably cavalry. She strained from the window to see, but it was
at that period between dusk and dark when distant objects were
tantalizingly indefinite. Nothing could be made of the number, or who
came in command. But she believed that it must be Major King's troops
returning from escorting the raiders to Meander.

Of course there would be no trying out of Maggie's scheme now. New
developments must come of the arrival of Major King, perhaps her own
removal to the post. Surely he could not sustain an excuse that she
was dangerous to his military operations now.

Doors opened, and heavy feet passed the hall. Presently all was a
tangle of voices there, greetings and warm words of welcome, and the
sound of Mrs. Chadron weeping on her husband's breast for joy at his
return.

Nola's light chatter rose out of the sound of the home-coming like a
bright thread in a garment, and the genteel voice of Major King
blended into the bustle of welcome with its accustomed suave
placidity. Frances felt downcast and lonely as she listened to them,
and the joyous preparations for refreshing the travelers which Mrs.
Chadron was pushing forward. They had no regard, no thought it seemed,
for the wounded man who lay with only the thickness of a door dividing
him from them.

She was moved with concern, also, regarding Chadron's behavior when he
should learn of Macdonald's presence in that house. Would Nola have
the courage to own her attachment then, and stand between the wrath of
her father and his wounded enemy?

She was not to be spared the test long. There was the noise of Chadron
moving heavily about, bestowing his coat, his hat, in their accustomed
places. He came now into the dining-room, where the sentinel kept
watch at Macdonald's door. Frances crept softly, fearfully