Remember the Alamo [102]
said the Senora;
"and may the angels give us in our dreams grateful thoughts."
And then, in the dark, Isabel nestled her head in her sister's
breast, and whispered: "Forgive me for being happy,
sweet Antonia. Indeed, when I smiled on Luis, I was often
thinking of you. In my joy and triumph and love, I do not
forget that one great awful grave at Goliad. But a woman must
hide so many things; do you comprehend me, Antonia?"
"Querdita," she whispered, "I comprehend all. God has done
right. If His angel had said to me, `One must be taken and
the other left,' I should have prayed, `Spare then my little
sister all sorrow.' Good-night, my darling"; but as their
lips met, Isabel felt upon her cheeks the bitter rain which is
the price of accepted sacrifice; the rain, which afterwards
makes the heart soft, and fresh, and responsive to all the
airs of God.
At the same moment, the white curtains of the marquee, in
which the doctor sat talking with his son and Luis and Lopez,
were opened; and the face of Ortiz showed brown and glowing
between them.
"Senors," he said, as he advanced to them, "I am satisfied. I
have been appointed on the guard over Santa Anna. He has
recognized me. He has to obey my orders. Will you think of
that?" Then taking the doctor's hand he raised it to his lips.
"Senor, I owe this satisfaction to you. You have made me my
triumph. How shall I repay you?"
"By being merciful in the day of your power, Ortiz."
"I assure you that I am not so presumptuous, Senor. Mercy is
the right of the Divinity. It is beyond my capacity. Besides
which, it is not likely the Divinity will trouble himself
about Santa Anna. I have, therefore, to obey the orders of
the great, the illustrious Houston; which are, to prevent his
escape at all risks. May St. James give me the opportunity,
Senors! In this happy hour, a Dios!"
Then Lopez bent forward, and with a smile touched the doctor's
hand. "Will you now remember the words I said of Houston?
Did I not tell you, that success was with him? that on his
brow was the line of fortune? that he was the loadstone in the
breast of freedom?
CHAPTER XVII.
HOME AGAIN.
"Where'er we roam,
Our first, best country ever is at home."
"What constitutes a state?
Men who their duties know;
But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain.
"And sovereign law, that states collected will
O'er thrones and globes elate,
Sits empress; crowning good, repressing ill.
"This hand to tyrants ever sworn a foe,
For freedom only deals the deadly blow;
Then sheathes in calm repose the vengeful blade,
For gentle peace, in freedom's hallowed shade."
The vicinity of a great battle-field is a dreadful place after
the lapse of a day or two. The bayou and the morass had
provided sepulture for hundreds of slain Mexicans, but
hundreds still lay upon the open prairie. Over it, birds of
prey hung in dark clouds, heavy-winged, sad, sombre, and
silent. Nothing disturbed them. They took no heed
of the living. Armed with invincible talons and beaks tipped
with iron, they carried on ceaselessly that automatic
gluttony, which made them beneficent crucibles of living fire,
for all which would otherwise have corrupted the higher life.
And yet, though innocent as the elements, they were odious in
the sight of all.
Before daylight in the morning the Senora and her daughters
were ready to begin their homeward journey. The doctor could
not accompany them, General Houston and the wounded Americans
being dependent largely upon his care and skill. But Luis
Alveda and Lopez Navarro received an unlimited furlough; and
about a dozen Mexican prisoners of war belonging to San
Antonio were released on Navarro's assurance, and permitted to
travel with the party as camp servants. It was likely, also,
that they would be joined by a great many of the families who
had accompanied
"and may the angels give us in our dreams grateful thoughts."
And then, in the dark, Isabel nestled her head in her sister's
breast, and whispered: "Forgive me for being happy,
sweet Antonia. Indeed, when I smiled on Luis, I was often
thinking of you. In my joy and triumph and love, I do not
forget that one great awful grave at Goliad. But a woman must
hide so many things; do you comprehend me, Antonia?"
"Querdita," she whispered, "I comprehend all. God has done
right. If His angel had said to me, `One must be taken and
the other left,' I should have prayed, `Spare then my little
sister all sorrow.' Good-night, my darling"; but as their
lips met, Isabel felt upon her cheeks the bitter rain which is
the price of accepted sacrifice; the rain, which afterwards
makes the heart soft, and fresh, and responsive to all the
airs of God.
At the same moment, the white curtains of the marquee, in
which the doctor sat talking with his son and Luis and Lopez,
were opened; and the face of Ortiz showed brown and glowing
between them.
"Senors," he said, as he advanced to them, "I am satisfied. I
have been appointed on the guard over Santa Anna. He has
recognized me. He has to obey my orders. Will you think of
that?" Then taking the doctor's hand he raised it to his lips.
"Senor, I owe this satisfaction to you. You have made me my
triumph. How shall I repay you?"
"By being merciful in the day of your power, Ortiz."
"I assure you that I am not so presumptuous, Senor. Mercy is
the right of the Divinity. It is beyond my capacity. Besides
which, it is not likely the Divinity will trouble himself
about Santa Anna. I have, therefore, to obey the orders of
the great, the illustrious Houston; which are, to prevent his
escape at all risks. May St. James give me the opportunity,
Senors! In this happy hour, a Dios!"
Then Lopez bent forward, and with a smile touched the doctor's
hand. "Will you now remember the words I said of Houston?
Did I not tell you, that success was with him? that on his
brow was the line of fortune? that he was the loadstone in the
breast of freedom?
CHAPTER XVII.
HOME AGAIN.
"Where'er we roam,
Our first, best country ever is at home."
"What constitutes a state?
Men who their duties know;
But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain.
"And sovereign law, that states collected will
O'er thrones and globes elate,
Sits empress; crowning good, repressing ill.
"This hand to tyrants ever sworn a foe,
For freedom only deals the deadly blow;
Then sheathes in calm repose the vengeful blade,
For gentle peace, in freedom's hallowed shade."
The vicinity of a great battle-field is a dreadful place after
the lapse of a day or two. The bayou and the morass had
provided sepulture for hundreds of slain Mexicans, but
hundreds still lay upon the open prairie. Over it, birds of
prey hung in dark clouds, heavy-winged, sad, sombre, and
silent. Nothing disturbed them. They took no heed
of the living. Armed with invincible talons and beaks tipped
with iron, they carried on ceaselessly that automatic
gluttony, which made them beneficent crucibles of living fire,
for all which would otherwise have corrupted the higher life.
And yet, though innocent as the elements, they were odious in
the sight of all.
Before daylight in the morning the Senora and her daughters
were ready to begin their homeward journey. The doctor could
not accompany them, General Houston and the wounded Americans
being dependent largely upon his care and skill. But Luis
Alveda and Lopez Navarro received an unlimited furlough; and
about a dozen Mexican prisoners of war belonging to San
Antonio were released on Navarro's assurance, and permitted to
travel with the party as camp servants. It was likely, also,
that they would be joined by a great many of the families who
had accompanied