Forced, as it were, to remain a witness of the horrors of the then approaching conflict, the cousins strove to cast from them the gloomy forebodings which crept into their hearts, darkening the present and investing the future with phantoms of terror.  Mrs. Carlton and Mary were far more hopeful than the remainder of the little circle, and kept up the semblance of cheerfulness, which ever flies at the approach of danger.  The girls saw but little of the gentlemen, for Mr. Carlton was ever out in search of tidings from the camp, and Frank, in opposition to his sister’s tearful entreaties, had enlisted immediately after General Burleson’s arrival.  His manner, during his brief visits, was considerate and kind; yet Mary fancied at times that he avoided her, though, marking her declining health, he had prescribed some simple remedy, and never failed to inquire if she were not improving.  Still there was a certain something, indescribable, yet fully felt, which made her shrink from meeting him, and as week after week passed, her cheek grew paler, and her step more feeble.

With an anxious heart, Mrs. Carlton watched her failing strength; but to all inquiries and fears Mary replied that she did not suffer, save from her cough, and for a time dispelled her apprehensions.

One evening Mary stood leaning against the window, looking earnestly, wistfully upon the beautiful tints which ever linger in the western sky.  She stretched her arms toward the dim outline, murmuring slowly: 

“Oh! that my life may fade away as gently as those tints, and that I may at last rest on the bosom of my God.”

Darkness closed around—­the soft hues melted into the deep blue of the zenith as she stood communing with her own heart, and she started when a shawl was wrapped about her, and the window closed.

“As ministering physician, I cannot allow such neglect of injunctions.  How dare you expose yourself after my express direction to keep close?”

“I have kept very closely all day, and did not know that star-gazing was interdicted.”

As she spoke, a violent fit of coughing succeeded; he watched her anxiously.

“Do you suffer any acute pain?”

“Occasionally I do; but nothing troubles me so much as an unpleasant fluttering about my heart, which I often have.”

“You must be very careful, or your cough will increase as winter comes on.”

Mary repressed a sigh which struggled up from her heart, and inquired if there was any news.

“We cannot learn exactly what is transpiring within the Alamo, but feel assured the crisis is at hand; some excitement has prevailed in the garrison all day, and it is confidently expected in our camp that the assault will soon be made.”

“Oh! may God help you in the coming strife, and adjudge victory to the side of justice and liberty.”

“Apparently the chances are against us, Miss Irving; yet I regard the future without apprehension, for the Texans are fearless, and General Burleson in every respect worthy the confidence reposed in him.  Allow gloomy forebodings no room in your heart, but, like myself anticipate a speedy termination of the war.”