ladies
were Mrs. Maynard and her daughter Miss Renwick,--his own mother,
remarried, his own Alice, a grown young woman. This was, indeed, news to
put him in a flutter and spoil his shooting. He realized at once that
the gulf was wider than ever. How could he go to her now, the wife of a
colonel, and he an enlisted man? Like other soldiers, he forgot that the
line of demarcation was one of discipline, not of sympathy. He did not
realize what any soldier among his officers would gladly have told him,
that he was most worthy to reveal himself now,--a non-commissioned
officer whose record was an honor to himself and to his regiment, a
soldier of whom officers and comrades alike were proud. He never
dreamed--indeed, how few there are who do!--that a man of his character,
standing, and ability is honored and respected by the very men whom the
customs of the service require him to speak with only when spoken to. He
supposed that only as Fred Renwick could he extend his hand to one of
their number, whereas it was under his soldier name he won their trust
and admiration, and it was as Sergeant McLeod the officers of the ----th
were backing him for a commission that would make him what they deemed
him fit to be,--their equal. Unable to penetrate the armor of reserve
and discipline which separates the officer from the rank and file, he
never imagined that the colonel would have been the first to welcome him
had he known the truth. He believed that now his last chance of seeing
his mother was gone until that coveted commission was won. Then came
another blow: the doctor told him that with his heart-trouble he could
never pass the physical examination: he could not hope for preferment,
then, and _must_ see her as he was, and see her secretly and alone. Then
came blow after blow. His shooting had failed, so had that of others of
his regiment, and he was ordered to return in charge of the party early
on the morrow. The order reached him late in the evening, and before
breakfast-time on the following day he was directed to start with his
party for town, thence by rail to his distant post. That night, in
desperation, he made his plan. Twice before he had strolled down to the
post and with yearning eyes had studied every feature of the colonel's
house. He dared ask no questions of servants or of the men in garrison,
but he learned enough to know which rooms were theirs, and he had noted
that the windows were always open. If he could only s