he open
southward window and fluttered the silken folds of the standard and
guidons at the parlor archway. Anxiously the mother heart was throbbing
by his side, and the fond eyes sought the soldier's strong, storm-beaten
face. Then she noted the look of bewilderment in his gaze, for again he
was studying that postscript. Then suddenly he stretched forth his hand,
took from the little pile of newspapers on a chair a copy of a recent
army journal, swiftly turned over a page or two, searching the columns
with half doubtful eyes; then, finding what he needed, thumbed the
paragraph and held it where she could easily see. "Read that," said Ray,
and Marion read aloud:

"SAN FRANCISCO, ---- 18.--Among the arrivals at the Occidental by
the _Sheridan_ from Manila and Nagasaki are Major, Mrs. and Miss
Farrell and Captain Oswald M. Dwight, the latter of the --th
Cavalry. Major Farrell, Quartermaster U. S. Volunteers, is the
owner of valuable properties in Texas, whither he is soon to
return. Captain Dwight, one of the most distinguished of our
squadron leaders, is rapidly recuperating from serious illness
contracted in the Philippines. The voyage proved a blessing in more
ways than one, for the dinner given by Major and Mrs. Farrell last
night, to a select coterie at the Bohemian Club, was to announce
the engagement of their lovely daughter, Inez, to this gallant
trooper, who won his spurs in the Apache campaign of the '80's, and
the sympathy of hosts of friends on the Pacific coast in the death
of his devoted wife six years ago. They will now rejoice with him
in his joy, and unite with us in wishing him and his young and
beautiful bride all possible felicity."

Mrs. Ray turned, all amaze, incredulity and distress; then, with
something like a sob, buried her face on the sturdy blue shoulder. There
was suspicious moisture about her husband's blinking eyes, and he for a
moment could hardly trust himself to speak.

"Is it--_our_ boy now, dear?" he gently asked, and her head came up at
the instant, her blue eyes welling over with indignant tears:

"Oh, Will," she answered, "you know well what I'm thinking. It is of
_her_--of Margaret--it is of _their_ boy--poor little motherless Jim!"

CHAPTER II

A FACE FROM THE PHILIPPINES

The man did not live who could say, much less think, that Oswald Dwight
did not devotedly love his devoted wife and h