And a dreamy
look came into her deep eyes. She was thinking, no doubt, of a dark,
oval, _distingue_ face with raven hair and moustache. The youth in the
travelling-suit was not tall, like Steven,--not singularly, romantically
handsome, like Steven. Indeed, he was of less interest to her than to
her married sister.

Mrs. Rayner could see no name on the satchel,--only two initials; and
they revealed very little.

"I have half a mind to peep at the fly-leaf of that book," she said. "He
walked just like a soldier: but there isn't anything there to indicate
what he is," she continued, with a doubtful glance at the items
scattered about the now vacant section. "Why isn't that porter here? He
ought to know who people are."

As though to answer her request, in came the porter, dishevelled and
breathless. He made straight for the satchel they had been scrutinizing,
and opened it without ceremony. Both ladies regarded this proceeding
with natural astonishment, and Mrs. Rayner was about to interfere and
question his right to search the luggage of passengers, when the man
turned hurriedly towards them, exhibiting a little bundle of
handkerchiefs, his broad Ethiopian face clouded with anxiety and
concern:

"The gentleman told me to take all his handkerchiefs. We'se got a dozen
frozen soldiers in the baggage-car,--some of 'em mighty bad,--and
they'se tryin' to make 'em comfortable until they get to the fort."

"Soldiers frozen! Why do you take them in the baggage-car?--such a barn
of a place! Why weren't they brought here, where we could make them warm
and care for them?" exclaimed Mrs. Rayner, in impulsive indignation.

"Laws, ma'am! never do in the world to bring frozen people into a hot
car! Sure to make their ears an' noses drop off, that would! Got to keep
'em in the cold and pile snow around 'em. That gentleman sittin'
here,--he knows," he continued: "he's an officer, and him and the
doctor's workin' with 'em now."

And Mrs. Rayner, vanquished by a statement of facts well known to her
yet forgotten in the first impetuosity of her criticism, relapsed into
the silence of temporary defeat.

"He _is_ an officer, then," said Miss Travers, presently. "I wonder what
he belongs to."

"Not to our regiment, I'm sure. Probably to the cavalry. He knew Major
Stannard and other officers whom we passed there."

"Did he speak to them?"

"No: there was no time. We were beyond hearing-distance when he ran to
the back door of the