CHAPTER I.
A CADET'S SISTER.
She was standing at the very end of the forward deck, and, with flushingcheeks and sparkling eyes, gazing eagerly upon the scene before her.Swiftly, smoothly rounding the rugged promontory on the right, thesteamer was just turning into the highland "reach" at Fort Montgomeryand heading straight away for the landings on the sunset shore. It wasonly mid-May, but the winter had been mild, the spring early, and nowthe heights on either side were clothed in raiment of the freshest,coolest green; the vines were climbing in luxuriant leaf all over theface of the rocky scarp that hemmed the swirling tide of the Hudson; theradiance of the evening sunshine bathed all the eastern shores in mellowlight and left the dark slopes and deep gorges of the opposite range allthe deeper and darker by contrast. A lively breeze had driven most ofthe passengers within doors as they sped through the broad waters of theTappan Zee, but, once within the sheltering traverses of Dunderberg andthe heights beyond, many of their number reappeared upon the promenadedeck, and first among them was the bonnie little maid now clinging tothe guard-rail at the very prow, and, heedless of fluttering skirt orfly-away curl, watching with all her soul in her bright blue eyes forthe first glimpse of the haven where she would be. No eyes on earth lookso eagerly for the grim, gray _facade_ of the riding-hall or the domesand turrets of the library building as those of a girl who has spent theprevious summer at West Point.
Utterly absorbed in her watch, she gave no heed to other passengers whopresently took their station close at hand. One was a tall, dark-eyed,dark-haired young lady in simple and substantial travelling-dress. Withher were two men in tweeds and Derby hats, and to these companions sheconstantly turned with questions as to prominent objects in the rich andvaried landscape. It was evident that she was seeing for the first timesights that had been described to her time and again, for she wasfamiliar with every name. One of the party was a man of over fiftyyears,--bronzed of face and gray of hair, but with erect carriage andpiercing black eyes that spoke of vigor, energy, and probably of a lifein the open air. It needed not the tri-colored button of the LoyalLegion in the lapel of his coat to tell that he was a soldier. Any onewho chose to look--and there were not a few--could speedily have seen,too, that these were father and daughter.
The other man was still taller than the dark, wiry, slim-built soldier,but in years he was not more than twenty-eight or nine. His eyes, brows,hair, and the heavy moustache that drooped over his mouth were all of adark, soft brown. His complexion was clear and ruddy; his frame powerfuland athletic. Most of the time he stood a silent but attentive listenerto the eager talk between the young lady and her father, but his kindlyeyes rarely left her face; he was ready to respond when she turned toquestion him, and when he spoke it was with the unmistakable intonationof the South.
The deep, mellow tones of the bell were booming out their landing signalas the steamer shot into the shadow of a high, rocky cliff. Far aloft onthe overhanging piazzas of a big hotel, fluttering handkerchiefs greetedthe passengers on the decks below. Many eyes were turned thither inrecognition of the salute, but not those of the young girl at the bow.One might, indeed, have declared her resentful of this intermediatestop. The instant the gray walls of the riding-school had come into viewshe had signalled, eagerly, with a wave of her hand, to a gentleman andlady seated in quiet conversation under the shelter of the deck.Presently the former, a burly, broad-shouldered man of forty orthereabouts, came sauntering forward and stood close behind her.
"Well, Nan! Most there, I see. Think you can hold on five minuteslonger, or shall I toss you over and let you swim for it?"
For answer Miss Nan clasps a wooden pillar in her gray-gloved hands, andtilts excitedly on the toes of her tiny boots, never once relaxing hergaze on the dock a mile or more away up-stream.
"Just think of being so near Willy--and all of them--and not seeing oneto speak to until after parade," she finally says.
"Simply inhuman!" answers her companion with commendable gravity, butwith humorous twinkle about his eyes. "Is it worth all the longjourney, and all the excitement in which your mother tells me you'vebeen plunged for the past month?"
"Worth it, Uncle Jack?" and the blue eyes flash upon him indignantly."Worth it? You wouldn't ask if you knew it all, as I do."
"Possibly not," says Uncle Jack, whimsically. "I haven't the advantageof being a girl with a brother and a baker's dozen of beaux in bellbuttons and gray. I'm only an old fossil of a 'cit,' with a scamp of anephew and that limited conception of the delights of West Point whichone can derive from running up there every time that versatile youngstergets into a new scrape. You'll admit my opportunities have beenfrequent."
"It isn't Willy's fault, and you know it, Uncle Jack, though we all knowhow good you've been; but he's had more bad luck and--and--injusticethan any cadet in the corps. Lots of his classmates told me so."
"Yes," says Uncle Jack, musingly. "That is what your blessed mother,yonder, wrote me when I went up last winter, the time Billy submittedthat explanation to the commandant with its pleasing reference to thefox that had lost its tail--you doubtless recall the incident--and camewithin an ace of dismissal in consequence."
"I don't care!" interrupts Miss Nan, with flashing eyes. "Will hadprovocation enough to say much worse things; Jimmy Frazer wrote me so,and said the whole class was sticking up for him."
"I do not remember having had the honor of meeting Jimmy Frazer,"remarks Uncle Jack, with an aggravating drawl that is peculiar to him."Possibly he was one of the young gentlemen who didn't call, owing tosome temporary impediment in the way of light prison----"
"Yes; and all because he took Will's part, as I believe," is theimpetuous reply. "Oh! I'll be so thankful when they're out of it all."
"So will they, no doubt. 'Sticking up'--wasn't that Mr. Frazer'sexpression?--for Bill seems to have been an expensive luxury all round.Wonder if sticking up is something they continue when they get to theirregiments? Billy has two or three weeks yet in which to ruin his chancesof ever reaching one, and he has exhibited astonishing aptitude fortripping himself up thus far."
"Uncle Jack! How can you speak so of Willy, when he is so devoted toyou? When he gets to his regiment there won't be any Lieutenant Lee tonag and worry him night and day. _He's_ the cause of all the trouble."
"That so?" drawls Uncle Jack. "I didn't happen to meet Mr. Lee,either,--he was away on leave; but as Bill and your mother had some suchviews, I looked into things a bit. It appears to be a matter of recordthat my enterprising nephew had more demerit before the advent of Mr.Lee than since. As for 'extras' and confinements, his stock was alwaysbig enough to bear the market down to bottom prices."
The boat is once more under way, and a lull in the chat close at handinduces Uncle Jack to look about him. The younger of the two men latelystanding with the dark-eyed girl has quietly withdrawn, and is nowshouldering his way to a point out of ear-shot. There he calmly turnsand waits; his glance again resting upon her whose side he has sosuddenly quitted. She has followed him with her eyes until he stops;then with heightened color resumes a low-toned chat with her father.Uncle Jack is a keen observer, and his next words are inaudible exceptto his niece.
"Nan, my child, I apprehend that remarks upon the characteristics of theofficers at the Point had best be confined to the bosom of the family.We may be in their very midst."
She turns, flushing, and for the first time her blue eyes meet the darkones of the older girl. Her cheeks redden still more, and she whirlsabout again.
"I can't help it, Uncle Jack," she murmurs. "I'd just like to tell themall what I think of Will's troubles."
"Oh! Candor is to be admired of all things," says Uncle Jack, airily."Still it is just as well to observe the old adage, 'Be sure you'reright,' etc. Now _I_ own to being rather fond of Bill, despite all theworry he has given your mother, and all the bother he has been tome----"
"All the worry that others have given _him_, you ought to say, UncleJack."
"W-e-ll, har-d
-ly. It didn't seem to me that the corps, as a rule,thought Billy the victim of persecution."
"They all tell _me_ so, at least," is the indignant outburst.
"Do they, Nan? Well, of course, that settles it. Still, there were a fewwho reluctantly admitted having other views when I pressed themclosely."
"Then they were no friends of Willy's, or mine either!"
"Now, do you know, I thought just the other way? I thought one of them,especially, a very stanch friend of Billy's and yours, too, Nan, butBilly seems to consider advisers in the light of adversaries."
A moment's pause. Then, with cheeks still red, and plucking at the ropenetting with nervous fingers, Miss Nan essays a tentative. Her eyes aredowncast as she asks,--
"I suppose you mean Mr. Stanley?"
"The very man, Nanette; very much of a man to my thinking."
The bronzed soldier standing near cannot but have heard the name and thewords. His face takes on a glow and the black eyes kindle.
"Mr. Stanley would not say to _me_ that Willy is to blame," pouts themaiden, and her little foot is beating impatiently tattoo on the deck.
"Neither would I--just now--if I were Mr. Stanley; but all the same, hedecidedly opposed the view that Mr. Lee was 'down on Billy,' as yourmother seems to think."
"That's because Mr. Lee is tactical officer commanding the company, andMr. Stanley is cadet captain. Oh! I will take him to task if he hasbeen--been----"
But she does not finish. She has turned quickly in speaking, her handclutching a little knot of bell buttons hanging by a chain at the frontof her dress. She has turned just in time to catch a warning glance inUncle Jack's twinkling eyes, and to see a grim smile lurking under thegray moustache of the gentleman with the Loyal Legion button who isleading away the tall young lady with the dark hair. In another momentthey have rejoined the third member of their party,--he who firstwithdrew,--and it is evident that something has happened which givesthem all much amusement. They are chatting eagerly together, laughingnot a little, although the laughter, like their words, is entirelyinaudible to Miss Nan. But she feels a twinge of indignation when thetall girl turns and looks directly at her. There is nothing unkindly inthe glance. There even is merriment in the dark, handsome eyes andlurking among the dimples around that beautiful mouth. Why did thoseeyes--so heavily fringed, so thickly shaded--seem to her familiar as oldfriends? Nan could have vowed she had somewhere met that girl before,and now that girl was laughing at her. Not rudely, not aggressively, tobe sure,--she had turned away again the instant she saw that the littlemaiden's eyes were upon her,--but all the same, said Nan to herself, she_was_ laughing. They were all laughing, and it must have been because ofher outspoken defence of Brother Will and equally outspoken defiance ofhis persecutors. What made it worse was that Uncle Jack was laughingtoo.
"Do you know who they are?" she demands, indignantly.
"Not I, Nan," responds Uncle Jack. "Never saw them before in my life,but I warrant we see them again, and at the Point, too. Come, child.There's our bell, and we must start for the gangway. Your mother ishailing us now. Never mind this time, little woman," he continues,kindly, as he notes the cloud on her brow. "I don't think any harm hasbeen done, but it is just as well not to be impetuous in public speech.Ah! I thought so. They are to get off here with us."
Three minutes more and a little stream of passengers flows out upon thebroad government dock, and, as luck would have it, Uncle Jack and hischarges are just behind the trio in which, by this time, Miss Nan isdeeply, if not painfully, interested. A soldier in the undress uniformof a corporal of artillery hastens forward and, saluting, stretchesforth his hand to take the satchel carried by the tall man with thebrown moustache.
"The lieutenant's carriage is at the gate," he says, whereat Uncle Jack,who is conducting her mother just in front, looks back over his shoulderand nods compassionately at Nan.
"Has any despatch been sent down to meet Colonel Stanley?" she hears thetall man inquire, and this time Uncle Jack's backward glance is acombination of mischief and concern.
"Nothing, sir, and the adjutant's orderly is here now. This is all hebrought down," and the corporal hands to the inquirer a note, thesuperscription of which the young officer quickly scans; then turns and,while his soft brown eyes light with kindly interest and he bares hisshapely head, accosts the lady on Uncle Jack's arm,--
"Pardon me, madam. This note must be for you. Mrs. McKay, is it not?"
And as her mother smiles her thanks and the others turn away, Nan'seager eyes catch sight of Will's well-known writing. Mrs. McKay rapidlyreads it as Uncle Jack is bestowing bags and bundles in the omnibus andfeeing the acceptive porter, who now rushes back to the boat in the nickof time.
"Awful sorry I can't get up to the hotel to see you," says the note, dolorously, but by no means unexpectedly. "I'm in confinement and can't get a permit. Come to the officer-in-charge's office right after supper, and he'll let me see you there awhile. Stanley's officer of the day, and he'll be there to show the way. In haste, WILL."
"Now _isn't_ that poor Willy's luck every time!" exclaims Miss Nan, herblue eyes threatening to fill with tears. "I _do_ think they might lethim off the day we get here."
"Unquestionably," answers Uncle Jack, with great gravity, as he assiststhe ladies into the yellow omnibus. "You duly notified thesuperintendent of your impending arrival, I suppose?"
Mrs. McKay smiles quietly. Hers is a sweet and gentle face, lined withmany a trace of care and anxiety. Her brother's whimsical ways are oldacquaintances, and she knows how to treat them; but Nan is young,impulsive, and easily teased. She flares up instantly.
"Of course we _didn't_, Uncle Jack; how utterly absurd it would sound!But Willy knew we were coming, and _he_ must have told him when he askedfor his permit, and it does seem too hard that he was refused."
"Heartless in the last degree," says Uncle Jack, sympathetically, butwith the same suggestive drawl. "Yonder go the father and sister of theyoung gentleman whom you announced your intention to castigate becausehe didn't agree that Billy was being abused, Nan. You will have a chancethis very evening, won't you? He's officer of the day, according toBilly's note, and can't escape. You'll have wound up the whole family bytattoo. Quite a good day's work. Billy's opposers will do well to takewarning and keep out of the way hereafter," he continues, teasingly."Oh--ah--_corporal_!" he calls, "who was the young officer who justdrove off in the carriage with the lady and gentleman?"
"That was Lieutenant Lee, sir."
Uncle Jack turns and contemplates his niece with an expression of theliveliest admiration. "'Pon my word, Miss Nan, you are a mostcomprehensive young person. You've indeed let no guilty man escape."