"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.