be coached a little by my friend Captain Varrum."

He drew himself up, saluted her a la militaire, right-about-faced
with the stiffness of a ramrod, and was departing, when a light
hand touched his arm, and Marian said, with a look so kind and
sympathetic that his eyes fell before it: "Report to me occasionally,
Captain Strahan. There are my colors;" and she gave him a white
rose from her belt.

His mouth quivered slightly, but with a rather faltering laugh
he replied, as he put the rose to his lips, "Never let the color
suggest that I will show the white feather;" and then he began his
military career with a precipitate retreat.






CHAPTER VIII.

CHARMED BY A CRITIC.





"WHAT next?" was Marian's wondering query after Mr. Strahan's
departure. The change of motive which already had had no slight
influence on her own action and feeling had apparently ushered in