"I am thinking that you are not as generous as you were some few
years since, when you would have given me Clara herself; for now you
will not even let me have a glimpse of her letters!"
"Have they not been already sufficiently published?" said Traverse,
with an almost girlish smile and blush.
When those cherished letters were all read and put away, Traverse
stooped down and "fished up" from amidst envelopes, strings and
waste paper another set of letters which proved to be the blanks
inclosing the checks, of various dates, which Herbert recognized as
coming anonymously from Old Hurricane.
"What in the world is the meaning of all this, Herbert? Have I a
nabob uncle turned up anywhere, do you think? Look here!--a hundred
dollars--and a fifty, and another--all drafts upon the Planters'
Bank, New Orleans, drawn in my favor and signed by Largent Dor,
bankers!--I, that haven't had five dollars at a time to call my own
for the last two years! Here, Herbert, give me a good, sharp pinch
to wake me up! I may be sleeping on my post again?" said Traverse in
perplexity.
"You are not sleeping, Traverse!"
"Are you sure?"
"Perfectly," replied Herbert, laughing.
"Well, then, do you think that crack upon the crown of my head that
I got upon Chapultepec has not injured my intellect?"
"Not in the slightest degree!" said Herbert, still laughing at his
friend's perplexity.
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