University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.

Morn broke in the East; or, in the beautiful language
of the Son of Fingal, “Sols yellow hair streamed on the
Eastern gale.” Awakened by the first chirping of the
feathered tribe, Florence rose as the gray morning light
stole into her chamber, and seating herself at the window,
looked out on the town before her. Quiet reigned as yet,
broken only by the murmuring and gurgling of the river,
which rolled swiftly on, just below their little gate. How
delightful to her seemed

Calmly she now weighed the conversation of the preceding
night, and, engrossed in earnest thought, sat gazing out
till the Orient shone resplendent, and an October sun
poured his rays gloriously around her. Then she knelt,
and prayed as she had never done before. She sought the
“pure fountain of light,” and implored strength and guidance
in her search after truth. Rising, her glance fell on
her sleeping cousin, and she was struck with the change
which within the last month had taken place in her appearance.
Approaching the bed, she lifted the masses of
chestnut hair that clung to the damp brow. As she looked
on the pure, pale face, there came a gush of tenderness
into her soul, and bending, she imprinted a long, warm
kiss. Mary stirred, and opened her eyes.

“Ah, Florry, you are up earlier than usual.” She
closed them again, murmuring slowly, “I feel as though
I had no strength remaining; I can scarcely lift my head.”

“Sleep, Mary, if you can. I will shut out the light,
and call you again after a while.”

“No, Florry, I must not give way to such feelings; indeed
they are getting quite too common of late; I can't
think what makes me so weak and feverish.”

An hour later, as they stood together at the door of their
little dining-room, a body of Mexican cavalry dashed furiously
past their gate. The cousins looked full at each
other. Then Florence said in a low, calm tone: “You
are right, Mary; we will go from this place; I feel now
that it is for the best.” She averted her face; but Mary
saw an expression of keen agony resting there. “Florry,
let us consult Mrs. Carlton. She will advise us what
would be best to do in this emergency.”

“Go and see her yourself; I can not. Whatever you
decide upon I will agree to. Oh! Mary, how desolate and
unprotected we are.”

“No, not while there is an Almighty One to watch over
us. But, Florry, I am much troubled about Aunt Lizzy.

I mentioned our wish to leave here, and she opposed it
strenuously, on the grounds that the Padre had promised
his protection. Now what are we to do?”

“Go to Mrs. Carlton's, Mary, and I will convince aunt
that it is best we should remove from here immediately.
You need apprehend no difficulty on her part. As you return
from Mrs. Carlton's, meet me in the church-yard.”

“Florry, do not go till I come home; or, if you prefer
it, let us go there at once.”

“No, Mary, I wish to be there alone.”

“But I am afraid it is not quite safe for you to venture
out so far from home.”

“I fear nothing: who would harm a daughter beside
her father's grave?”

Mary sighed heavily, but offered no further opposition.
Her walk to Mrs. Carlton's was a sad one, for her heart
clung to the scenes she had learned to love so well, and
the prospect of departure, and the uncertainty of the future,
weighed heavily on her heart, and made her step unwontedly
slow. She found her friend alone, and much depressed.
Mrs. Carlton clasped her tenderly in her arms, while
the tears rolled silently down her cheeks.

“I hope nothing has happened to distress you?” said
Mary, anxiously.

“You are the very one I wished to see. Mr. Carlton
said, this morning, that he was unwilling for me to remain
here any longer, as our troops are marching to attack the
Alamo. He says he will take us to Washington, and I
could not bear the idea of leaving you here.”

“I have come to consult you on this subject; for some

of my Mexican friends have advised us to leave San Antonio;
and not knowing where or how to go, concluded to
come and see you. But Washington is far, very far from
here. How will we ever reach it in these unsettled times?”

“Mr. Carlton and Frank have gone to make all necessary
preparation for our immediate departure. We will
have two tents, and carry such cooking utensils and provisions
as are needful for a tedious journey: one wagon is
all we hope to obtain for conveying these. I suppose we
shall all ride horseback; for you know there is not a carriage
in the town. Frank does not wish us to leave this
place, for he suggested your coming to remain with us till
these stormy times were over. But this is not a suitable
home for you. Surely your cousin and aunt will consent
to accompany us?”

“Yes, I think so; for Florry left it entirely with me,
and certainly we should go now.”

“I am very glad to hear you say so, Mary; not only
upon your own account, but also for Frank. He will consider
himself bound to accompany you; for he promised
your dying uncle to watch over you both with a brother's
care, and otherwise he could not be induced to leave San
Antonio at this crisis. He seems completely rapt in the
issue of the contest; and would you believe it, Mary, he is
anxious to enlist; but my entreaties have as yet prevented
him.”

“Dear Mrs. Carlton, there is no obligation resting on
him to go with us. He has been very kind and careful,
and though deeply grateful, we could not consent to his
leaving against his own inclinations. Oh, no! we could

not allow this. Yet should he remain, what may be the
result? Oh! Mrs. Carlton, this is terrible.”

Mary's cheek was very pale, and her lips quivered convulsively,
while the small hands clasped each other tightly.

“Mary, for my sake, use your influence with him in
favor of going to Washington. I can't go in peace, and
feel that he is here exposed to such imminent danger, for
when I am gone, what will restrain him? Mary, Mary!
do not deter him, if he feels it incumbent on him to see
you to a place of safety.”

“Mrs. Carlton, you can appreciate the peculiar position
in which I am placed. Florry and I would shrink from
drawing him away, in opposition to his wishes, particularly
when there is no danger attendant on our traveling; for
with you and Mr. Carlton we would feel no apprehension;
and even if we did, we could not consent to such
a sacrifice on his part. Yet I sympathize with you, most
sincerely, and will willingly do all that in propriety I
can to alleviate your sorrow; but knowing his sentiments,
how could I advise, or even acquiesce in his going?”

“My pure-hearted girl, forgive a request made so thoughtlessly.
I had not considered, as I should have done; yet
you can appreciate the anxious feelings which dictated it.”
As she spoke, Mrs. Carlton clasped her friend to her heart,
and wept on her shoulder. No tear dimmed Mary's eye;
yet that she suffered, none who looked on her pale brow
and writhing lips could doubt. As she raised her head to
reply, Dr. Bryant entered, and started visibly on seeing her.
Mrs. Carlton endeavored to regain her composure; and,

with a slightly faltering voice, asked how he succeeded in
procuring horses?

“Better than I had hoped,” was the rejoinder; and he
held out his hand to Mary. She gave him hers, now cold
as ice. He held it a moment, and pressed it gently, saying:
“You see my sister is going to run away on the first
intimation of danger. I hope she has not infected you
with her fears; though, to judge from your looks, I should
almost predict a stampede in another direction.”

“Indeed you are quite right. Florry and I are going
with her; though we had decided on leaving before we
knew she intended doing so.”

“Ah! you did not seem to apprehend any immediate
danger when we conversed on this subject a few days since.
What has changed your views?”

“I have been warned not to risk the dangers attendant
on the approaching conflict by a Mexican friend, whose
attachment I have every reason to believe is sincere; and
besides, it needed but little to augment my fears; and Florry
and I concluded, if practicable, to remove to a place of
greater safety.”

“Can you be ready within two days, think you, Miss
Mary? for, if we leave at all, it is advisable that we do so
immediately.”

“Oh, yes! I know we can be ready by that time.”

“Let me see—how many additional horses shall we
need? Yourself, your cousin, and aunt, and myself.”

Mary looked eagerly at Mrs. Carlton; but she had averted
her head; and for a moment a terrible struggle within
kept the gentle girl silent.

“Dr. Bryant, I know you do not wish to leave here at
this juncture, intensely interested as you are in the event,
and I fear you are sacrificing your own wishes for our benefit.
Let me beg you to consult your inclinations, and do
not feel it in the least incumbent on you to attend us, particularly
when we are in the kind care of Mr. Carlton; and
you have already done so much toward contributing to our
comfort.”

“Thank you for your consideration. Nevertheless, I
shall not rest satisfied till I place you in safety on the
banks of the Brazos. One of my greatest pleasures has
been to render you service, and you would not abridge them,
I hope, by refusing my company on your journey?”

Mary's eyes were fixed earnestly on his face while he
spoke, and though there was no change in his kind, gentle
tone, there came an undefinable expression over his noble
countenance—an expression in which coldness and sorrow
predominated. She could not understand him; yet a shudder
crept through her frame, and a sensation of acute pain
stole into her heart. She felt as though a barrier had suddenly
risen between them, yet could not analyze the cause.

“Your servants will take all possible care of the house
and furniture during your absence, which, I hope, will be
but temporary. They will not be molested; and I am
afraid we could not conveniently carry two additional persons.
What think you of this arrangement?”

“I think with you, that under existing circumstances
the servants could not well accompany us; and though
they will incur no danger, I regret the necessity of leaving
them, particularly should they object.”

“I hope you will find no difficulty in arranging every
thing to your entire satisfaction, previous to our departure.
You and my sister must consult as to all minor points, and
I must look to our preparations. My respects to your
cousin. I will see you again to-morrow;” and bidding
her good morning, he turned away.

“Oh, such a weight is lifted from my heart!” exclaimed
Mrs. Carlton. “I can now exert myself as I am called
on to do.”

“Florry will be waiting for me, and we have much to
do at home; so good-by,” and Mary lifted her pale face
for a farewell kiss.

Mrs. Carlton affectionately embraced her, and bidding
her “make all speed,” they parted.