sistent with his own official duty, and, when compelled to meet
him, to deport himself with the cold ceremony of a subordinate to a
superior officer.

Le Noir, on his part, treated Herbert with an arrogant scorn amounting
to insult, and used every opportunity afforded him by his position to
wound and humiliate the young lieutenant.

After a quick and prosperous voyage they reached New Orleans, where
they expected to be farther reinforced by a company of volunteers who
had come down the Mississippi river from St. Louis. These volunteers
were now being daily drilled at their quarters in the city, and were
only waiting the arrival of the vessel to be enrolled in the regiment.

One morning, a few days after the ship reached harbor, Herbert Greyson
went on shore to the military rendezvous to see the new recruits
exercised. While he stood within the enclosure watching their
evolutions under the orders of an officer, his attention became
concentrated upon the form of a young man of the rank and file who was
marching in a line with many others having their backs turned toward
him. That form and gait seemed familiar--the circumstances in which he
saw them again--painfully familiar. And yet he could not identify the
man. While he gazed, the recruits, at the word of command, suddenly
wheeled and faced about. And Herbert could scarcely repress an
exclamation of astonishment and regret.

That young man in the dress of a private soldier was Clara Day's
betrothed, the widow's only son, Traverse Rocke! While Herbert
continued to gaze in surprise and grief, the young recruit raised his
eyes, recognized his friend, flushed up to his very temples and cast
his eyes down again. The rapid evolutions soon wheeled them around, and
the next order sent them into their quarters.

Herbert's time was also up, and he returned to his duty.

The next day Herbert went to the quarters of the new recruits and
sought out his young friend, whom he found loitering about the grounds.
Again Traverse blushed deeply as the young lieutenant approached. But
Herbert Greyson, letting none of his regret appear, since now it would
be worse than useless in only serving to give pain to the young
private, went up to him cordially and shook his hands, saying:

"Going to serve your country, eh, Traverse? Well, I am heartily glad to
see you, at any rate."

"But heartily sorry to see me here, enlisted as a private in a company
of raw recruits, looking not unlike Fa