One or two acquaintances detained me a few moments, but during the intermission between the acts I was able to satisfy myself that Mr. Amory was no longer in the house. Indeed, some of the officers stationed in town told me that they had seen him crossing the street just as they re-entered. Presently I met Colonel Newhall, and his first question was,-- "How is Vinton to-night?" "Very well, apparently. Do you want to see him?" "Not particularly. He is here, I believe. You might tell him that his sick-leave is granted. It may be welcome news to him--just now." "Naturally: as he expects to be married next month." "Yes. I'm glad he got the leave--when he did," said the colonel, as he turned away to speak to some friends. Something in his manner set me to thinking. What could he mean by saying that he was glad Vinton had secured his leave of absence? Was any sudden move probable? Amory did say that it was current talk that their regiment was to be ordered to the frontier in the spring. Could it be that the order had already come? I went back to the box. Kitty looked eagerly around as I entered, then turned back in evident disappointment. Not a word was exchanged between us until the close of the act; but for two occupants of the _loge_ "The Huguenots" had lost all interest. It was eleven o'clock and after as we reached the lodgings on our return from the opera. Mars had nowhere appeared, though Kitty's eyes sought him in the throng at the doorway, and, as we drew near the house, she looked eagerly ahead at a soldierly form in cavalry undress uniform. A corporal of the troop was lounging under the gas-light at the entrance. The moment he caught sight of our party he stepped forward and handed Vinton a letter. There was nothing unusual about a letter arriving for Major Vinton--day or night. Orderlies came frequently to the old house on Royal Street with bulky missives for him; yet I felt a premonition in some inexplicable way that this was no ordinary communication. It was a mere note, and I thought the corporal said, "From the lieutenant, sir." Yet I knew it meant tidings of importance,--and so did others. Miss Summers had withdrawn her hand from Vinton's arm as he took the note, and with deep anxiety in her paling face stood watching him as he opened and read it under the lamp. Kitty too had stepped forward, and, resting one little hand on the stone post at the doorway, gazed with equal intensity and a face that was paler yet than her cousin's. Harrod and I, a little behind them, were silent witnesses. Presently Vinton looked up, his eyes seeking the face he loved. "What is it?" she asked. "Our orders have come." For an instant no one spoke. I could not take my eyes off Kitty, whose back was towards me, but who I could see was struggling hard for composure. Pauline instinctively put forth her hand, drawing Kitty closer to her side.