The Florida agriculturist., 1889-12-04

when she said to him, 81 am Miss Matt
land;'' it would have Jared him to know
that she was wife; he was happy knee
ing by the side of the beautiful girl he
had never seen before that evening, and
delighted that he could be of service to
her. All this was retrospect worth in
dulging; but then arose the black shadow
on his vision How came DIR Quin
striding in there as though native and
to the manner bornY' how came he to
call her "Gladys?' Perry had been
pondering over this matter for full half
an hour on the homeward ride before he
bethought him of Mrs Lawrence's re-
marks about the signal lights One
thing led to another in his recollection of
her talk. The doctor answered the sig
nails. no one else; the doctor and NO one
else was received at Dunraven. the doc
tor had declined to answer any questions
about the people at the ranch. had been
silent and mysterious. yet frequent in
his visits And then more than all
what was that Mrs. Lawrence said or in
timated that Mrs. Quin, ''such lovely
woman. too, had taken her children and
left him early that spring. and all ON ac-
count of somebody or something con
nected with Dunraven Ranch? Good
heavensl 1t could not be GLADYS
And yet
Instead of taking bath and going to
bed, Mr.. Perry poked his head into
Parkes bachelor chamber as he reached
the little cottage they shared in common.
No Gladys disturbed the junior dreams,
apparently for he was breathing regu-
larly, sleeping the sleep of the just, and
SO, finding no one to talk to and being in
no mood to go to bed at an hour so com
paratively early when he had SO much to
think about, Perry filled pipe and
perched himself in a big chair by the
window seat, intending to think it all
over again. He was beginning to hate
that doctor; he would have chafed at the
idea of any bachelors being before him
in an acquaintance with Gladys Maitland,
but married man knowing her so we'll
as to make his wife Jealous and himself
Indifferent to that fact-knowing her so
well as to drive ''such lovely woman.
too" into taking her children and quit
ting the marital roof-that was too much
of bad thing. and Perry was sore dis
comfted. He got up, impatient and rest
less, passed out to the little piazza in
front of his quarters, and began pacing
up and down, the glow from his corncob
pipe making fiery trail in the darkness.
He would have been glad to go back to
the colonel and keep watch with him:
but there was one thing connected with
his visit to Dunraven that he could not
bear to speak Of especially as those
words of Mrs. Lawrence recurred again
and again to his memory. He had not
said one word-he did not want to tell
of Gladys Maitland
And so it happened that Perry, too,
was awake and astir when the footsteps
of the cavalry sergeant were heard on
their way to Capt. Strykers quarters.
Listening, he noted that the soldier had
halted at the colonel's, held brief con-
versation with that officer, and then
turned back across the parade. Instant
ly divining that news had come of Sergt.
Gwynne, Perry seized his forage cap and
hurried in pursuit. He overlook the
trooper just beyond the guard house and
went with him eagerly to the stables A
moment more, and he was bending over
soldiers bedside in little room adjoin-
ing the forage shed and by the light of a
dim stable lantern looking down into the
bruised and battered features of the non
commissioned officer, whom he had pro-
nounced of all others at Rossiter the
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