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Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte, 1819-1899

"Capitola the Madcap"


Herbert sat watching that pale, calm, intellectual face, thanking
heaven that his mother, in her distant home, knew nothing of her
boy's deadly peril and praying heaven that its justice might be
vindicated in the deliverance of this victim from the snares of
those who sought his life.
For more than an hour longer Traverse slept the deep sleep of
exhaustion, and then calmly awoke. On seeing Herbert sitting beside
him, he smiled sadly, saying:
"You here, Herbert? How kind of you to come. Well, Herbert, you see
they have succeeded, as I knew they would. That was what I wished to
tell you about when I was abruptly ordered away. I do believe it was
done on purpose to prevent my telling you. I really think I have
been surrounded by spies to report and distort every word and look
and gesture. If our company had only watched die enemy with half the
vigilance with which they watched me, that party of emigrants would
not have been cut off on the plains."
"Traverse," said Herbert solemnly taking the hand of his friend,
"were you caught sleeping on your post?"
"Ah, sleeping like death, Herbert."
Herbert dropped the hand of his friend, covered his face with his
own, and groaned aloud, "He could not help it!"
"I told you that they had resolved upon my death, Herbert. I told
you that I should be pushed into a shameful grave!"
"Oh, no, no, the Lord forbid! But tell me all about it, Traverse,
that I may understand and know how to proceed," said Herbert, in a
broken voice.


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