Had I dreamed for one moment that the Westchester Horse was
to become the 10th troop of Arran's Lancers, I would never have
joined it.

"It was a bitter dose for me to swallow when my company was sworn
into the United States service under this man.

"Since, I have taken the matter philosophically. He has not
annoyed me, except by being alive on earth. He showed a certain
primitive decency in not recognizing me when he might have done it
in a very disagreeable fashion. I think he was absolutely
astonished to see me there; but he never winked an eyelash. I give
the devil his due.

"All this distresses you, dear. But I cannot help it; you would
have to know, sometime, that Colonel Arran and I are enemies. So
let it go at that; only, remembering it, avoid always any
uncomfortable situation which must result in this man and myself
meeting under your roof."

His letter ended in lighter vein--a gay message to Celia, a cordial
one to Letty, and the significant remark that he expected to see
her very soon.

The next night he tried to run the guard, and failed.

She had written to him, begging him not to; urging the observance
of discipline, while deploring their separation--a sweet, confused
letter, breathing in every line her solicitation for him, her new
faith and renewed trust in him.

Concerning what he had told her about his personal relations with
Colonel Arran she had remained silent--was too unhappy and
astonished to reply. Thinking of it later, it recalled to her mind
Celia's studied avoidance of any topic in which Colonel Arran
figured. She did not make any mental connection between Celia's
dislike for the man and Berkley's--the coincidence merely made her
doubly unhappy.

And, one afternoon when Letty was on duty and she and Celia were
busy with their mending in Celia's room, she thought about
Berkley's letter and his enmity, and remembered Celia's silent
aversion at the same moment.

"Celia," she said, looking up, "would you mind telling me what it
is that you dislike about my old and very dear friend, Colonel
Arran?"

Celia continued her needlework for a few moments. Then, without
raising her eyes, she said placidly:

"You have asked me that befo', Honey-bird."

"Yes, dear. . . . You know it is not impertinent curiosity----"

"I know what it is, Honey-bee. But you can not he'p this gentleman
and myse'f to any ground of common understanding."

"I am so sorry," sighed Ailsa, resting