"It may be so, I do not know. Oh, Herbert, whether it be from want of
sleep and excessive fatigue--for I have been on duty for three days and
nights--or whether it be from incipient illness, or all these causes
put together, I cannot tell, but my spirits are dreadfully depressed!
There seems to be hanging over me a cloud of fate I cannot dispel.
Every hour seems descending lower and blacker over my head, until it
feels like some heavy weight about to suffocate or crush me," said
Traverse, sadly.
"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
Molina-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 Molina-del-Rey.
The next day, on seeking Traverse, he understood that the young private
had been despatched on a foraging expedition. That night, upon again
inquiring for him, he was told that he had been sent in attendance upon
the officers who had borne secret despatches to General Quitman, at his
quarters on the Acapulco road.
"Traverse is right. They mean to ruin him. I see how it is, exactly.
When I saw Traverse on guard, two days ago, he looked like a man
exhausted and crazed for want of sleep, and since that time he has been
night and day engaged in harassing duty. That demon, Le Noir, with
Zuten to help him, has determined to keep Traverse from sleep, until
nature is thoroughly exhausted, and then set him upon guard, that he
may be found sleeping on his post. That was what the boy meant when he
talked of the cloud that was hanging over him, and of being forced into
a dishonored grave, and when he hoped, poor fellow, to fall in the
approaching assault upon the Molina-del-Rey! I see it all now. They
have decided upon the destruction of Traverse. He can do nothing, A
soldier's whole duty is comprised in one word--obedience, even if, as
in this instance, he is ordered to commit suicide. Let them hatch their
diabolical plots. We will see if the Lord does not still reign, and the
devil is not a fool. It shall go hard, but that they are 'hoist with
their own petard!'" said Herbert, indignantly.