Nevertheless, he raised his eyes to his superior.
"You got my note?"
The general's brow darkened.
"Yes," he said slowly, "but finding you thus unprepared--I had been thinking just now that you had been deceived by that woman--or by others--and that it was a clumsy forgery." He stopped, and seeing the hopeless bewilderment in the face of the wounded man, added more kindly: "But we will not talk of that in your present condition. The doctor says a few hours will put you straight again. Get strong, for I want you to lose no time--for your own sake--to report yourself at Washington."
"Report myself--at Washington!" repeated Brant slowly.
"That was last night's order," said the commander, with military curtness. Then he burst out: "I don't understand it, Brant! I believe you have been misunderstood, misrepresented, perhaps maligned and I shall make it MY business to see the thing through--but those are the Department orders. And for the present--I am sorry to say you are relieved of your command."
He turned away, and Brant closed his eyes. With them it seemed to him that he closed his career. No one would ever understand his explanation--even had he been tempted to give one, and he knew he never would. Everything was over now! Even this wretched bullet had not struck him fairly, and culminated his fate as it might!
For an instant, he recalled his wife's last offer to fly with him beyond the seas--beyond this cruel injustice--but even as he recalled it, he knew that flight meant the worst of all--a half-confession! But she had escaped! Thank God for that! Again and again in his hopeless perplexity this comfort returned to him,--he had saved her; he had done his duty. And harping upon this in his strange fatalism, it at last seemed to him that this was for what he had lived--for what he had suffered--for what he had fitly ended his career. Perhaps it was left for him now to pass his remaining years in forgotten exile--even as his father had--his father!--his breath came quickly at the thought--God knows! perhaps as wrongfully accused! It may have been a Providence that she had borne him no child, to whom this dreadful heritage could be again transmitted.
There was something of this strange and fateful resignation in his face, a few hours later, when he was able to be helped again into the saddle. But he could see in the eyes of the few comrades who commiseratingly took leave of him, a vague, half-repressed awe of some indefinite weakness in the man, that mingled with their heartfelt parting with a gallant soldier. Yet even this touched him no longer. He cast a glance at the house and the room where he had parted from her, at the slope from which she had passed--and rode away.
And then, as his figure disappeared down the road, the restrained commentary of wonder, surmise, and criticism broke out:--"It must have been something mighty bad, for the old man, who swears by him, looked rather troubled. And it was deuced queer, you know, this changing clothes with somebody, just before this surprise!"
