Remember the Alamo [81]
also, I received a letter. Into your gracious
care, Senorita, I deliver them."
"I thank you for your kindness, Captain. Tell us now of the
fortress. Are the troops in good spirits?"
"Allow me to fear that they are in too good assurance of
success. The most of the men are very young. They have not
yet met our Lady of Sorrows. They have promised to themselves
the independence of Texas. They will also conquer Mexico.
There are kingdoms in the moon for them. I envy such
exaltations--and regret them. GRACE OF GOD, Senorita! My
heart ached to see the crowds of bright young faces. With a
Napoleon--with a Washington to lead them--they would do
miracles."
"What say you to Houston?"
"I know him not. At Goliad they are all Houstons. They
believe each man in himself. On the contrary, I wish that
each man looked to the same leader."
"Do you know that Santa Anna is in San Antonio?"
"I felt it, though I had no certain news. I came far around,
and hid myself from all passers-by, for the sake of the wagon
and the horses. I have the happiness to say they are safe.
The wagon is within the enclosure, the horses are on the
prairie. They have been well trained, and will come to my
call. As for me, I will now go into the city, for there will
be much to see and to hear that may be important to us.
Senoritas, for all your desires, I am at your service."
When Ortiz was gone, Isabel had a little fret of
disappointment. Luis might have found some messenger to bring
her a word of his love and life. What was love worth that did
not annihilate impossibilities! However, it consoled her a
little to carry Jack's letter to his mother. The Senora had
taken her morning chocolate and fallen asleep. When Isabel
awakened her, she opened her eyes with a sigh, and a look of
hopeless misery. These pallid depressions attacked her most
cruelly in the morning, when the room, shabby and unfamiliar,
gave both her memory, and anticipation a shock.
But the sight of the letter flushed her face with expectation.
She took it with smiles. She covered it with kisses. When
she opened it, a curl from Jack's head fell on to her lap.
She pressed it to her heart, and then rose and laid it at the
feet of her Madonna. "She must share my joy," she said with
a pathetic childishness; "she will understand it." Then, with
her arm around Isabel, and the girl's head on his shoulder,
they read together Jack's loving words:
"Mi madre, mi madre, you have Juan's heart in your heart.
Believe me, that in all this trouble I sorrow only for you.
When victory is won I shall fly to you. Other young men have
other loves; I have only you, sweet mother. There is always
the cry in my heart for the kiss I missed when I left you. If
I could hold your hand to-night, if I could hear your voice,
if I could lay my head on your breast, I would say that the
Holy One had given me the best blessings He had in heaven.
Send to me a letter, madre--a letter full of love and kisses.
Forgive Juan! Think of this only: HE IS MY BOY! If I
live, it is for you, who are the loveliest and dearest of
mothers. If I die, I shall die with your name on my
lips. I embrace you with my soul. I kiss your hands, and
remember how often they have clasped mine. I kiss your eyes,
your cheeks, your dear lips. Mi madre, remember me! In your
prayers, remember Juan!"
With what tears and sobs was this loving letter read by all
the women; and the Senora finally laid it where she had laid
the precious curl that had come with it. She wanted "the
Woman blessed among women" to share the mother joy and the
mother anguish in her heart. Besides, she was a little
nervous about Jack's memento of himself. Her superstitious
lore taught her that severed hair is a token of severed love.
She wished he had not sent it, and yet she could not bear to
have it out of her sight.
"Gracias a Dios!" she kept ejaculating. "I have one child
that loves me, and me only. I shall forgive Juan everything.
I shall not forgive Thomas
care, Senorita, I deliver them."
"I thank you for your kindness, Captain. Tell us now of the
fortress. Are the troops in good spirits?"
"Allow me to fear that they are in too good assurance of
success. The most of the men are very young. They have not
yet met our Lady of Sorrows. They have promised to themselves
the independence of Texas. They will also conquer Mexico.
There are kingdoms in the moon for them. I envy such
exaltations--and regret them. GRACE OF GOD, Senorita! My
heart ached to see the crowds of bright young faces. With a
Napoleon--with a Washington to lead them--they would do
miracles."
"What say you to Houston?"
"I know him not. At Goliad they are all Houstons. They
believe each man in himself. On the contrary, I wish that
each man looked to the same leader."
"Do you know that Santa Anna is in San Antonio?"
"I felt it, though I had no certain news. I came far around,
and hid myself from all passers-by, for the sake of the wagon
and the horses. I have the happiness to say they are safe.
The wagon is within the enclosure, the horses are on the
prairie. They have been well trained, and will come to my
call. As for me, I will now go into the city, for there will
be much to see and to hear that may be important to us.
Senoritas, for all your desires, I am at your service."
When Ortiz was gone, Isabel had a little fret of
disappointment. Luis might have found some messenger to bring
her a word of his love and life. What was love worth that did
not annihilate impossibilities! However, it consoled her a
little to carry Jack's letter to his mother. The Senora had
taken her morning chocolate and fallen asleep. When Isabel
awakened her, she opened her eyes with a sigh, and a look of
hopeless misery. These pallid depressions attacked her most
cruelly in the morning, when the room, shabby and unfamiliar,
gave both her memory, and anticipation a shock.
But the sight of the letter flushed her face with expectation.
She took it with smiles. She covered it with kisses. When
she opened it, a curl from Jack's head fell on to her lap.
She pressed it to her heart, and then rose and laid it at the
feet of her Madonna. "She must share my joy," she said with
a pathetic childishness; "she will understand it." Then, with
her arm around Isabel, and the girl's head on his shoulder,
they read together Jack's loving words:
"Mi madre, mi madre, you have Juan's heart in your heart.
Believe me, that in all this trouble I sorrow only for you.
When victory is won I shall fly to you. Other young men have
other loves; I have only you, sweet mother. There is always
the cry in my heart for the kiss I missed when I left you. If
I could hold your hand to-night, if I could hear your voice,
if I could lay my head on your breast, I would say that the
Holy One had given me the best blessings He had in heaven.
Send to me a letter, madre--a letter full of love and kisses.
Forgive Juan! Think of this only: HE IS MY BOY! If I
live, it is for you, who are the loveliest and dearest of
mothers. If I die, I shall die with your name on my
lips. I embrace you with my soul. I kiss your hands, and
remember how often they have clasped mine. I kiss your eyes,
your cheeks, your dear lips. Mi madre, remember me! In your
prayers, remember Juan!"
With what tears and sobs was this loving letter read by all
the women; and the Senora finally laid it where she had laid
the precious curl that had come with it. She wanted "the
Woman blessed among women" to share the mother joy and the
mother anguish in her heart. Besides, she was a little
nervous about Jack's memento of himself. Her superstitious
lore taught her that severed hair is a token of severed love.
She wished he had not sent it, and yet she could not bear to
have it out of her sight.
"Gracias a Dios!" she kept ejaculating. "I have one child
that loves me, and me only. I shall forgive Juan everything.
I shall not forgive Thomas