Even now she might be a secret emissary of some spy within
the President's family; she might have been in correspondence with some
traitor in the Boompointer clique, and her imploring glance only the
result of a fear of exposure. Or, again, she might have truly recanted
after her escapade at Gray Oaks, and feared only his recollection of
her as go-between of spies. And yet both of these presumptions were
inconsistent with her conduct in the conservatory. It seemed impossible
that this impulsive woman, capable of doing what he had himself known
her to do, and equally sensitive to the shame or joy of such impulses,
should be the same conventional woman of society who had so coldly
recognized and parted from him.
But this interval of doubt was transitory. The next day he received a
dispatch from the War Department, ordering him to report himself for
duty at once. With a beating heart he hurried to the Secretary. But
that official had merely left a memorandum with his assistant directing
General Brant to accompany some fresh levies to a camp of "organization"
near the front. Brant felt a chill of disappointment. Duties of this
kind had been left to dubious regular army veterans, hurriedly
displaced general officers, and favored detrimentals.
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