"I thought soldiers never indulged in such feelings," continued the
unmollified Aunt Maria.

"Soldiers are but men," observed Thurstane, flushing through his sunburn.

"And men are weak creatures."

Thurstane grew still redder. This old lady (old in his young eyes) was
always at him about his manship, as if it were a crime and disgrace. He
wanted to give her one, but out of respect for Clara he did not, and
merely moved uneasily in his seat, as men are apt to do when they are set
down hard.

"How soon must you go? Where?" demanded Clara.

"As soon as I can close my accounts here and turn over my stores to my
successor. Company I is at Fort Yuma on the Colorado. It is the first post
in California."

"California!" And Clara could not help brightening up in cheeks and eyes
with fine tints and flashes. "Why, I am going to California."

"We will see," said Aunt Maria, still holding the fates in her fist.

Then came the story of Grandfather Muñoz's letter, with a hint or two
concerning the decay of the Van Diemen fortune, for Clara was not worldly
wise enough to hide her poverty.

Thurstane's face turned as red with pleasure as if it had been dipped in
the sun. If this young lady was going to California, he might perhaps be