"Pooh, pooh! hypochondria! cheer up! Remember that in a month we
shall probably be disbanded, and in a year--think of it, Traverse
Rocke--Clara Day will be twenty-one, and at liberty to give you her
hand. Cheer up!"
"Ah, Herbert, all that seems now to be more unsubstantial than the
fabric of a dream. I cannot think of Clara or of my mother without
despair. For oh, Herbert, between me and them there seems to yawn a
dishonored grave! Herbert, they talk, you know, of an attack upon
the Molino-del-Rey, and I almost hope to fall in that charge!"
"Why?" inquired Major Greyson, in dismay.
"To escape being forced into a dishonored grave! Herbert, that man
has sworn my ruin, and he will accomplish it!" said Traverse,
solemnly.
"For Heaven's sake, explain yourself!" said Herbert.
"I will. Listen! I will tell you the history of the last three
days," said Traverse; but before he could add another word the
sentry that was to relieve his guard approached and said:
"Captain Zuten orders you to come to his tent instantly."
With a glance of significance, Traverse bowed to Herbert and walked
off, while the sentinel took his place.
Herbert saw no more of Traverse that day. At night he went to
inquire for him, but learned that he had been sent with a
reconnoitering party to the Molino-del-Rey.
The next day, on seeking Traverse, he understood that the young
private had been despatched on a foraging expedition.
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