the men of her husband's company.

Yet there was a member of her husband's company on whom in his suffering
neither she nor the captain saw fit to call. Mr. Hayne's eyes were
seriously injured by the flames and heat, and he was now living in
darkness. It might be a month, said the doctor, before he could use his
eyes again.

"Only think of that poor fellow, all alone out there on that ghastly
prairie and unable to read!" was the exclamation of one of the cavalry
ladies in Mrs. Rayner's presence; and, as there was an awkward silence
and somebody had to break it, Mrs. Rayner responded,--

"If I lived on Prairie Avenue I should consider blindness a blessing."

It was an unfortunate remark. There was strong sympathy developing for
Hayne all through the garrison. Mrs. Rayner never meant that it should
have any such significance, but inside of twenty-four hours, in course
of which her language had been repeated some dozens of times and
distorted quite as many, the generally accepted version of the story was
that Mrs. Rayner, so far from expressing the faintest sympathy or sorrow
for Mr. Hayne's misfortune, so far from expressing the natural
gratification which a lady should feel that it was an officer of her
regiment who had reached the scene of danger ahead of the cavalry
officer of the guard, had said in so many words that Mr. Hayne ought to
be thankful that blindness was the worst thing that had come to him.

There was little chance for harmony after that. Many men and some women,
of course, refused to believe it, and said they felt confident that she
had been misrepresented. Still, all knew by this time that Mrs. Rayner
was bitter against Hayne, and had heard of her denunciation of the
colonel's action. So, too, had the colonel heard that she openly
declared that she would refuse any invitation extended to her or to her
sister which might involve her accepting hospitality at his house. These
things _do_ get around in most astonishing ways.

Then another complication arose: Hayne, too, was mixing matters. The
major commanding the battalion, a man in no wise connected with his
misfortunes, had gone to him and urged, with the doctor's full consent,
that he should be moved over into and become an inmate of his household
in garrison. He had a big, roomy house. His wife earnestly added her
entreaties to the major's, but all to no purpose: Mr. Hayne firmly
declined. He thanked the major; he rose and bent over the lady's han