The young officer passed slowly down the dark staircase, his mind still
bewildered by the result of the interview. His feelings toward Hampton
had been materially changed. He found it impossible to nurse a dislike
which seemingly had no real cause for existence. He began besides to
comprehend something of the secret of his influence over Naida; even to
experience himself the power of that dominating spirit. Out of
controversy a feeling of respect had been born.
Yet Brant was far from being satisfied. Little by little he realized
that he had gained nothing, learned nothing. Hampton had not even
advanced a direct claim; he had dodged the real issue, leaving the
soldier in the dark regarding his relationship to Naida, and erecting a
barrier between the other two. It was a masterpiece of defence,
puzzling, irritating, seemingly impassable. From the consideration of
it all, Brant emerged with but one thought clearly defined--whoever she
might prove to be, whatever was her present connection with Hampton, he
loved this dark-eyed, auburn-haired waif. He knew it now, and never
again could he doubt it. The very coming of this man into the field of
contest, and his calm assumption of proprietorship and authority, had
combined to awaken the slumbering heart of the young officer. From
that instant Naida Gillis became to him the one and only woman in all
this world. Ay, and he would fight to win her; never confessing defeat
until final decision came from her own lips. He paused, half inclined
to retrace his steps and have the matter out. He turned just in time
to face a dazzling vision of fluffy lace and flossy hair beside him in
the dimly lighted hall.