David Cable lost no time in hurrying away from Chicago with his wife and Jane. They were whisked westward in his private car on the second day after the Bansemer exposure. Broken-spirited, Jane acquiesced in all their plans; she seemed as one in a stupor, comprehending, yet unresponsive to the pain that enveloped her.

"I can't see anyone that I know here," she said listlessly. "Oh, the thought of what they are saying!"

They did not tell her that Graydon had enlisted as a private soldier in the United States Army; Jane only knew that she loved him and that the bar sinister existed.

Cable's devotion to her was beautiful. He could not have been more tender had she been his own daughter, instead of his wife's 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 his wife had attained a certain kind of social distinction in the army fast set. She was not especially enamoured of the prospect ahead of her in the Philippines; but the new colonel was a strict disciplinarian on and off the field. He expected to be a brigadier-general if fortune and favouritism supported him long enough. Mrs. Harbin could never be anything more than a private in the ranks, so far as his estimation of distinction was concerned. His daughter Ethel had, by means of no uncertain favouritism, advanced a few points ahead of her mother, and might have ranked as sergeant in the family corps.

Mrs. Harbin played cards, drank highballs, flirted with the younger officers, got talked about with pleasing emphasis, and was as happy as any subordinate could be. They had not even thought of such a thing as divorce, and the whole army wondered and expressed disgust. The army's appetite for scandal is surpassed only by its bravery in war. It is even hinted that the latter is welcomed as a loophole for the former. War brings peace.

The arrival of the Harbins and a staff of gay young cadets fresh from the banks of the Hudson put new life into the recluses. The regiment was to remain at the Presidio for several weeks before sailing. One of the lieutenants was a Chicago boy and an acquaintance of Graydon Bansmer. It was from him that Jane learned that her sweetheart was a soldier in the service, doubtless now in Luzon.

A week before the sailing of Colonel Harbin's transport Jane suddenly announced that she had but one desire on earth, and that was to go to Manila with her aunt. She did not present her plea with the usual claim that she wanted to be of service to her country; she was not asking to go out as a heroine of the ordinary type; instead, she simply announced that she wanted to go as a temporary member of Colonel Harbin's family, to endure their hardships and to enjoy their enthusiasms. Mrs. Cable recognised the true motive, however.

Her pleadings were in vain. The Harbins had lucklessly urged Jane to join them. Telegrams flew back and forth across the continent and David Cable came on to present his feeble objections.

When the great transport sailed away, Jane Cable was one of her passengers, the ward of the regiment.

"It's just for a little while, dad," she said wistfully at the dock. "A few months. I'll think of you every minute I'm away."

The blood of the man in the service was calling to her. The ocean was between them; the longing to be near him, to tread the same soil, had conquered in the eternal battle of love. After all, no matter how the end was attained, she was a creature of life, brought into the world to love and to be loved. She put the past behind her and began to build a new future—a future in which the adoration of Graydon Bansemer was the foundation. The hope that makes all human averages was at the work of reconstruction; youth was the builder. The months of destruction had not left a hopeless ruin as the heritage of dead impulses.

The world grew brighter as the ship forged westward. Each day sent warmer blood into her veins and a deeper light into her eyes. The new life was not inspired by the longing to be his wife, but to see him again and to comfort him. She would be no man's wife.

At last, one hot, soft morning in early July, the great transport slipped past Corregidor and turned its nose across Manila bay, past Cavite, toward the anchorage which ended the long voyage. The city of Manila lay stretched out before them—Manila, the new American capital.

The troops were marched off to quarters and the Harbins, with Jane Cable, repaired at once to the Oriente, where they were to live prior to taking a house in Ermita or San Miguel. The campaign was not being pushed vigorously at this time; it was the rainy season. Desultory fighting was going on between the troops and the insurgents; there were numerous scouting and exploring expeditions into the enemy's country. The famous round robin of the correspondents had been sent to the United States by this time, taking severely to task the army censorship which prevented the real condition of affairs from reaching the deluded public. The situation was much worse on the island of Luzon than anyone at home could have imagined. But little truth escaped the vigilant wisdom of the arbitrarians. It was not until later on, however, that the effects of the round robin were felt in headquarters at Manila; when that time came the Ayuntamiento in the walled city was not a pleasant retreat for the newspaper men who had dared.

A week elapsed before Jane could find the opportunity to make inquiries concerning the whereabouts of Graydon Bansemer. Her thoughts had been of nothing else; her eagerness had been tempered by the diffidence of the over-zealous. She and pretty Ethel Harbin had made life endurable for the gay young officers who came over on the ship; the pretty wives of certain captains and lieutenants had small scope for their blandishments at close range. Flirtations were hard to manage in space so small. The two girls were therefore in a state of siege most of the time. The abject following fell away perceptibly when the broader field of action on shore gave their married sisters a chance to manoeuvre with some degree of security. A faithful few remained in train, however. Ethel Harbin, like the ingenue in the play, had each finger clumsily but tightly wrapped with a breathing uniform of blue. It must be admitted in shame, however, that she changed the bandages often and without conscience or ceremony.

Jane's admirers were in love with her. She was not the sort to inspire idle fancies—either in married or unmarried men. In any event, it looked a long time to these chaps before they could get back to the States, and she was worth while.

Perhaps her most, devoted admirer was Lieutenant Bray. Good-looking and coming from an excellent Southern family, he was a great favourite with all. Jane liked him better than any of the rest; she would have liked him still better had he been able to resist a tendency to boast of the stock from which he had sprung. The knowledge of her disadvantages in life, the contrast between their respective positions, all tended to emphasise the irony of fate; and she often found herself wondering how this sprig of true aristocracy would conduct himself if he discovered that, after all, she was only a FOUNDLING.

It was Lieutenant Bray who made inquiries at general headquarters and found, after considerable trouble, that Graydon Bansemer's company was in the north, subject to the requirements of Young, chief of scouts. Irksome were the lazy summer months for Jane. She tired of the attentions of men; she sickened with longing and anxiety. Day after day she prayed that the troops in the north might be relieved; she watched for the order that would call for their return from the wet lands above. Sickness was prevalent among the fighting corps; the wet season had undermined the health of many. Constant news came down to Manila of the minor engagements, and she looked at every report for news of Graydon. Colonel Harbin, occasionally, had private advices from the north. She heard of Graydon's bravery more than once and glowed with pride. Down in her tired, anxious heart she was wondering if it were possible for her to go to the front in any capacity.

At last, with October, came the waning of the rainy season. November brought active fighting. A general movement of the troops was directed against Aguinaldo. In his prime, as a leader, he controlled the north, and his capture was imperative. Lawton and Young began operations on the right; McArthur on the centre; with Wheaton pushing forward on the extreme left. The insurgents fell back from Tarlac. There were many big fights at San Jacinto and other places now famous in history.

The Red Cross society held forth at Malolos, reaching gradually into the country north. Sick and wounded men came into the hospitals daily and in larger numbers than one would have supposed. The villages or barrios all along the line of advance saw their convents turned into hospitals; as fast as possible the nurses were hurried up to them. Men and women in this noble service did heroic, faithful work both for the white and the brown men who went down. From the field hospitals the men were taken to the convents and treated until they were able to be moved to Manila.

Further north fled Aguinaldo and the Filipinos. Wheaton was ordered to cut off his retreat; Young was killed; Cunningham took charge of the scouts who scoured the country. Parties of ten or fifteen picked men fell out in advance of the main body, seeking to develop the enemy and his defences. These brave fellows attracted the hidden fire of ambush, exposed themselves to all the treacheries of warfare, and afterwards were mustered out with a kind word from the department. They were the men who tested the territory. It was with one of these scouting parties that Graydon Bansemer ventured far into the enemy's country early in November.