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And the strong, straining arms clasped about her under that blessed cavalry cape, and the bonny face was hidden on his breast, and Ray's trembling lips were raining passionate kisses on that softly rippling bang, just as the last thrill of the "Immortellen" dreamed away, and the rich, ringing, soldierly voice of the sentry on number one echoed far out over the moonlit prairie the soldier watch-cry, "All's well."
You can afford to tell me when I say I must know before it comes to saying good-night to her. What had Miss Sanford to do with it?" "Everything, Billy." She was talking brightly with a knot of half a dozen young officers, all clamoring for "extras," when, soft and sweet, the strains of "Immortellen," that loveliest of Gungl's waltzes, floated on the air, and Ray stood there before her.
Only beating hearts, only quick-drawn breath, only the distant call of the sentry, "Half-past eleven o'clock;" only the dying strains of the "Immortellen" wafting out through the open casements. "Try, Maidie," he whispered, eagerly. "Try before the call comes back to the guard-house. Try before the last notes of that sweet waltz die away for good and all. Try, sweet love, 'Will, I think I do."
He never saw that all over the ball-room curious eyes were watching eagerly. Hers were downcast, while his were fixed almost in adoration on her face. Sweeter, softer, dreamier rose and fell the exquisite strains. Will he ever forget the "Immortellen"? Soft ripples of her hair were drifting close to his lips. Their delicate fragrance stole over his senses like a spell.
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