hout a word, glided away to the Senora. Isabel and
Antonia stood hand in hand, listening to the vague trouble and the echo
of harsh, grating voices, mingled with the blare of clarions, the roll
of drums, and the rattle of scattering rifle-shots. Yet the noises were
so blended together, so indistinct, so strangely expressive of both
laughter and defiance, that it was impossible to identify or describe
them.

Suddenly a horseman came at a rapid pace towards the house, and Antonia,
leaning over the balcony, saw him deliver a note to Rachela, and then
hurry away at the same reckless speed. The note was from the doctor to
his wife, and it did not tend to allay their anxiety. "Keep within the
house," it said; "there are difficulties in the city. In an hour or two
I will be at home."

But it was near midnight when he arrived, and Antonia saw that he was
a different man. He looked younger. His blue eyes shone with the
light behind them. On his face there was the impress of an invincible
determination. His very walk had lost its listless, gliding tread, and
his steps were firm, alert and rapid.

No one had been able to go to bed until he arrived, though Isabel slept
restlessly in her father's chair, and the Senora lay upon the couch,
drowsing a little between her frequent attacks of weeping and angry
anticipation. For she was sure it was the Americans. "Anything was
possible with such a man as Sam Houston near the city."

"Perhaps it is Santa Anna," at length suggested Antonia. "He has been
making trouble ever since I can remember. He was born with a sword in
his hand, I think."

"Ca! And every American with a rifle in his hand! Santa Anna is a
monster, but at least he fights for his own country. Texas is not the
country of the Americans."

"But, indeed, they believe that Texas is their country"; and to these
words Doctor Worth entered.

"What is the matter? What is the matter, Roberto? I have been made sick
with these uncertainties. Why did you not come home at the Angelus?"

"I have had a good reason for my delay, Maria. About three o'clock I
received a message from the Senora Alveda, and I visited her. She is
in great trouble, and she had not been able to bear it with her usual
fortitude. She bad fainted."

"Ah, the poor mother! She has a son who will break her heart."

"She made no complaint of Luis. She is distracted about her country, and
as I came home I understood why. For she is a very shrewd woman, and she