imposition.

Jane was ill in Pasadena for many weeks. Her depressed condition
made her recovery doubtful. It was plain to two persons, at least,
that she did not care whether she lived or died. The physicians
were puzzled, but no explanation was offered by the Cables. It was
not until certain Chicago sojourners generously spread the news,
that the cause of her breakdown became apparent to the good doctors.
Before many days, the girl who sat, wan and distrait, upon the
flower-shaded piazza was an object of curiosity to fashionable
Pasadena. As soon as she was strong enough to endure the trip, the
hunted trio forsook Pasadena and fled northward.

San Francisco afforded relief in privacy. Jane's spirits began to
revive. There had not been, nor was there ever to be, any mention
of that terrible night and its revelations. What she may have felt
and suffered in secret could only be conjectured by those who loved
her. Bansemer's name was never uttered. His fate remained unknown
to her. The far-away, unhappy look in her eyes proved to them that
Graydon was never out of her thoughts.

David Cable was in Chicago when Mrs. Cable received word from her
sister, once Kate Coleman, that she soon would reach San Francisco
with her husband, bound for the Philippines. Kate was the wife of
a West Pointer who had achieved the rank of colonel in the volunteers,
by virtue of political necessity. His regiment had been ordered
to the islands, and she was accompanying him with their daughter,
a girl of sixteen.

Colonel Harbin had seen pleasant service at the Eastern posts where