And Bella was still unmarried; still careering over the old preserves; still maintaining, apparently, her old theory that "men are deceivers ever;" and still, to judge from recent developments, bringing down fresh victims among the too inflammable youngsters of the battalion of cadets. Now, was Frank Amory a victim in good earnest, or only a narrow escape from being one? She wrote to him, but that proved nothing: she wrote to a dozen, and all at the same time. Aunt Ethel declared of her that she was writing to two classmates an entire winter, receiving almost daily missives from both, and responding when she felt disposed; and that not until they came to be stationed at the same post; to occupy the same quarters; to make the simultaneous discovery that each had parted with his class ring; and, one never-to-be-forgotten day, that each was receiving letters from the same damsel; had either of the young fellows the faintest idea that he was not the sole possessor of such attentions. It was alleged of Bella that she could have worn a class ring on every finger if she chose; but whatever may have been her object in accepting them, it was not for purposes of self-glorification. Her most intimate friend never knew whose rings she had; never knew how many; and Bella's flirtations, whatever may have been the wide-spread destruction she effected, were subjects that never could be spoken of in her presence. A dozen men were believed to confide in her, and she held their confidence inviolable. No one of them ever extracted from her the faintest admission that she ever received a line or an attention from any one else. Now, what in the world was I to do? Here was a complication that baffled me completely. If Mars were really smitten with my fascinating niece, how far had it gone? That he had been I could readily believe; but, whether she looked it or not, Bella must now be older than he, and probably had only been--involuntarily, as usual--amusing herself with his devotions. And now he was interested in Kitty,--of that I felt certain,--and, by Jove! I had it. He felt himself still bound by the old ties; still fettered by some real or imaginary allegiance to his West Point affinity; still--"Why, the whole thing was plain as A, B, C," thought I, in my masculine profundity. "Bella would not accept, could not discard him, and here she has kept him dangling at her beck and call ever since." I decided to write to Bella,--oh, the bewildering idiocy of some men!--and I wrote forthwith. That evening a letter winding up as follows was on its way northward: