all regard for Blakely, yet Plume speedily found her moody,
fitful, and unhappy, and made up his mind that Blakely was at the
bottom of it. Her desire to go to far-away Arizona could have no other
explanation. And though in no way whatever, by look, word, or deed,
had Blakely transgressed the strictest rule in his bearing toward the
major's wife, both major and wife became incensed at him,--Plume
because he believed the Bugologist still cherished a tender passion
for his wife--or she for him; Clarice, it must be owned, because she
knew well he did not. Plume sought to find a flaw in his subordinate's
moral armor to warrant the aversion that he felt, and was balked at
every turn. It was with joy almost fierce he discovered what he
thought to be proof that the subaltern was no saint, and, never
stopping to give his better nature time to rise and rebuke him, he had
summoned Janet. It was to sting Blakely, more than to punish the girl,
he had ordered Natzie to the guard-room. Then, as the hours wore on
and he realized how contemptible had been his conduct, the sense of
shame well-nigh crushed him, and though it galled him to think that
some of his own kind, probably, had connived at Natzie's escape, he
thanked God the girl was gone. And now having convinced herself that
here at last she had positive proof of Mr. Blakely's depravity, Aunt
Janet had not scrupled to bear it to Angela, with sharp and surprising
result. A good girl, a dutiful girl, was Angela, as we have seen, but
she, too, had her share of fighting Scotch blood and a bent for revolt
that needed only a reason. For days Aunt Janet had bidden her shun the
young man, first naming Mrs. Plume and then Elsie as the cause and
corespondent. One after another Graham had demolished these
possibilities, to the end that even Wren was ashamed of his unworthy
suspicions. Then it was Natzie who was the prey of Blakely's
immorality, and for that, Janet declared, quite as much as for
stabbing the soldier, the girl had been sent to the cells. It was late
in the day when she managed to find Angela away from her father, who,
realizing what Natzie had done and suffered to save his own ewe lamb,
was now in keen distress of mind because powerless to raise a hand to
aid her. He wondered that Angela seemed so unresponsive--that she did
not flare up in protest at such degrading punishment for the girl who
had saved her life. He little knew how his daughter's heart was
burning within her.