ch never came at all.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER VII.

When Mr. Forrest returned from Europe in the late autumn of '93, he
expected to go forthwith to the station of his regiment and devote his
energies to those ceaseless, engrossing, yet somewhat narrowing duties
that keep a man of mature years, capable of much better things,
attending roll-calls, drilling two sets of fours addressed by courtesy
as "company," grilling on the rifle-range, and consuming hours of
valuable time in work allotted in older services to sergeants. Calling
at the War Department on his way, he was asked about the autumn
manoeuvres and if he had seen any of them. He had seen a great deal,
the interest of friends in both the German and Austrian services having
enabled him to follow the armies assembled about Metz and Guens to
excellent advantage. Returning to his billet after each long day in the
saddle, he had spent some hours before retiring in recording his
impressions and observations, the result being several big note-books
crammed with data of deep interest to the professional soldier. The
adjutant-general took Forrest in to the Secretary of War, and there was
some significant talk, the result of which was the intimation that he
should again be assigned to temporary duty at department head-quarters
in Chicago in order to give him opportunity to write out his notes. Long
before this, Forrest's essays on grand tactics and certain papers on
military history had won much favor among the studious men in the army,
and it was with pride and pleasure that he entered on the allotted task.
He wrote, as did Zachary Taylor, a hand that looked much as though a
ramrod rather than a pen had been used, and naturally his first thought
was to find his transcriber of the previous winter. There she was at her
desk in the library, and looking far younger, happier, and better than
when he saw her last, and the frank pleasure in her face was good to see
as she welcomed him more in manner than in words.

"Certainly," said Miss Wallen; "I shall be glad to give as many evenings
to the work as may be necessary. I am too busy here by day." And so as
the autumn wore out and the winter wore on, her slender white fingers
danced over the keys, and page after page, in neatly typed duplicates,
his voluminous notes on the armies of Germany and Austria-Hungary were
faithfully transcribed. Home was not so far away now, and her brisk
walks led her no l