blunders as they are. That's the brave man's courage and the brave
woman's. Orders are mixed, but duty is clear. And the boy out there in the
woods has found his duty and done it like a man. That should be enough for
any soldier's daughter."

An hour passed in suspense. Moya was disappointed in her expectation of
sharing in whatever the letter from Fort Lemhi might contain. Christine
was in bed with a headache, her mother dully gave out, with no apparent
expectation that any one would accept this excuse for the girl's complete
withdrawal. The letter, she told Moya, was from Banks Bowen. "There was
nothing in it of consequence--to us," she added, and Moya took the words
to mean "you and me" to the unhappy exclusion of Christine.

Mrs. Bogardus's face had settled into lines of anxiety printed years
before, as the creases in an old garment, smoothed and laid away, will
reappear with fresh wear. Her plan was to go back to New York with
Christine, who was plainly unfit to bear a long siege of suspense. There
she could leave the girl with friends and learn what particulars could be
gathered from the Bowens, who would have arrived. She would then return
alone and wait for news at the garrison. That night, with Moya's help, she
completed her packing, and on the following day the wedding party broke
up.




XI


A SEARCHING OF HEARTS