9° 



R EC RE A TIOJV. 



days slipped by, as days will, even in 

 Arizona— hot, glaring days, with no shade 

 to temper the heat, and only a glimpse 

 had Miss Raymond of lieutenant Willis. 

 He was regimental adjutant and she 

 watched him at guard mounting, at pa- 

 rade or retreat. She listened for his 

 strong, cheery voice and began to wonder 

 vaguely how many more dreary days 

 must drag along before he would come 

 and ask to be taken back into favor. 

 That he would come, she doubted not ; 

 for Helen had found that she did 

 care a great deal, and every thing had 

 turned from the mazy, delightful pink 

 to a dull, leaden gray. 



"WHEN YOU WISH TO SEE ME AGAIN, HELEN, 

 SEND FOR ME." 



She began to wish she had acted dif- 

 ferently. It was foolish not to have told 

 Jack that cousin Ned had sent the tiny, 

 jeweled bangle — cousin Ned who had 

 played marbles with her papa. And as 

 for those "youngsters " with whom she 

 had danced and ridden, she cared noth- 

 ing. Compare them with Jack ? No ! 

 No! Jack was incomparable. But pride, 

 the most selfish and tyrannical of mon- 

 archs, reigned in this warm, little heart 

 and held sway until it was too late, until 

 that life's happiness was wrecked, until 

 that heart lay bruised and torn. 



The weekly hop night came at last. 

 Surely he would come, thought Helen, 

 as she put on a dress he admired — a pale, 



blue thing that was becoming. But 

 Jack did not come, and poor, heart- 

 sick Helen found all the joy had gone 

 from the dance. The room was simply 

 a blazing, unpoetic chaos. Once she had 

 thought the flag-draped walls artistic ; 

 but now the music jarred, the potted 

 plants sent out a sickening pei fume, and 

 she asked her father to take her home. 

 He felt the tenderest sympathy for her 

 as did the other loving heart, at home ; 

 for both Ethel and her father were fond 

 of Jack and though Helen had said no 

 word, they knew things were not as 

 they should be. Still the days came and 

 went. Life was gay at the frontier post; 

 yet for two hearts the charm was gone 



It was an evening in August. The 

 heated day had been unusually weari- 

 some for Helen, and she sat in a great 

 porch chair looking pale and fragile. 

 She declined to go with her father and 

 Ethel to play cards at the general's. 

 How still it all was ! Gloomy, the girl 

 thought. The night was dark. Only 

 the stars smiled lovingly down at the 

 lonely figure on which the night wind 

 was lavishing caresses. The stillness was 

 broken, however, by the first call for 

 tattoo and the twinkling lanterns 

 appeared across the parade, mingled 

 with the laughing voices of the men as 

 they tumbled out of quarters. All the 

 world was happy — every one but Helen. 

 So all young people argue at one time 

 or another. Helen leaned forward and 

 listened, all alert ; and somehow she 

 fancied Jack's sharp clear " very well," 

 in response to the reports, was sad. 

 She caught her breath. What if he 

 should wheel from the flagstaff and come 

 to her ! Ah ! no ! The footsteps sound- 

 ed faintly from the sandy road. She 

 heard him go slowly up the steps to 

 " Brown's Folly." 



Was his heart aching, too? She fell 

 back in the chair with clasped hands 

 and sat motionless until the bright lights 

 began to go out, one by one in the 

 quarters, and all was darkness. Sudden- 

 ly a door slammed and out came the 

 cavalry bugler. Softly and sweetly the 

 strange, wistful notes of " taps," the 

 soldier's good-night, echoed from fort 

 hill to mountain top. Helen shuddered 

 and rose. It was time to go in. What 

 a dreadful night ! 



She lay wide awake through the long 

 hours. The little French clock chimed 



