"Yes."

"And I have come to say that there is no longer any shadow of the dead

between us."

She looked up quickly, her hands clasped, her cheeks flushing. "Are

you sure? Perhaps you misunderstand; perhaps you mistake my meaning."

"I know it all," he answered, soberly, "from the lips of Hampton."

"You have seen him? Oh, Lieutenant Brant, please tell me the whole

truth. I have missed him so much, and since the day he rode away to

Cheyenne not one word to explain his absence has come back to me. You

cannot understand what this means, how much he has become to me through

years of kindness."

"You have heard nothing?"

"Not a word."

Brant drew a long, deep breath. He had supposed she knew this. At

last he said gravely: "Naida, the truth will prove the kindest message, I think. He died in

that unbroken ring of defenders clustered about General Custer on the

bluffs of the Little Big Horn."

Her slight figure trembled so violently that he held her close within

his arms.

"There was a smile upon his face when we found him. He performed his

full duty, Naida, and died as became a soldier and a gentleman."

"But--but, this cannot be! I saw the published list; his name was not

among them."

"The man who fell was Robert Nolan."

Gently he drew her down to a seat upon the soft turf of the bank. She

looked up at him helplessly, her mind seemingly dazed, her eyes yet

filled with doubt.

"Robert Nolan? My father?"

He bent over toward her, pressing his lips to her hair and stroking it

tenderly with his hand.

"Yes, Naida, darling; it was truly Robert Hampton Nolan who died in

battle, in the ranks of his old regiment,--died as he would have chosen

to die, and died, thank God! completely cleared of every stain upon his

honor. Sit up, little girl, and listen while I tell you. There is in

the story no word which does not reflect nobility upon the soldier's

daughter."

She uplifted her white face. "Tell me," she said, simply, "all you

know."

He recounted to her slowly, carefully, the details of that desperate

journey northward, of their providential meeting on the Little Big

Horn, of the papers left in his charge, of Hampton's riding forward

with despatches, and of his death at Custer's side. While he spoke,

the girl scarcely moved; her breath came in sobs and her hands clasped

his.




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