the armistice, the storming of the Palace-castle of Chapultepec followed soon after. Had we failed in the attempt not one of us would ever have gone out from the valley of Mexico. But we took the castle, and our crippled forces entered the captured city of the Montezumas, and planted their banners upon the National Palace. I was not among those who marched in. Three days afterward I was carried in upon a stretcher, with a bullet hole through my thigh, that kept me within doors for a period of three months.
During my invalid hours L – was my frequent visitor; he had completely recovered his health, but I noticed that a change had come over him, and his former gayety was gone.
Fresh troops arrived in Mexico, and to make room, our regiment, hitherto occupying a garrison in the city, was ordered out to its old quarters at San Angel. This was welcome news for my friend, who would now be near the object of his thoughts. For my own part, although once more on my limbs, I did not desire to return to duty in that quarter; and on various pretexts, I was enabled to lengthen out my "leave" until the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo.
Once only I visited San Angel. As I entered the house where L – lived, I found him seated in the open patio, under the shade of the orange trees. Rafaela was beside him, and his only hand was held in both of hers. There was no surprise on the part of either, though I was welcomed cordially by both – by her, as being the friend of the man she loved. Yes, she loved him.
"See," cried L – , rising, and referring to the situation in which I had found them. "All this, my dear H., in spite of my misfortunes!" and he glanced significantly at his armless sleeve. "Who would not love her?"
The treaty of Guadalupe was at length concluded, and we had orders to prepare for the route homeward. The next day I received a visit from L – .
"Henry," said he, "I am in a dilemma."
"Well, major," I replied, for L – as well as myself had gained a "step." "What is it?"
"You know I am in love, and with whom you know. What am I to do with her?"
"Why, marry her, of course. What else?"
"I dare not."
"Dare not!"
"That is – not now."
"Why not? Resign your commission, and remain here. You know our regiment is to be disbanded; you can not do better."
"Ah! my dear fellow, that is not the thing that hinders me."
"What then?"
"Should I marry her, and remain, our lives would not be safe one moment after the army had marched. Papers containing threats and ribald jests have from time to time been thrust under the door of her house – to the effect that, should she marry 'el official Americano' – so they are worded – both she and her father will be murdered. You know the feeling that is abroad in regard to those who have shown us hospitality."
"Why not take her with you, then?"
"Her father, he would suffer."
"Take him, too."
"That I proposed, but he will not consent. He fears the confiscation of his property, which is considerable. I would not care for that, though my own fortune, as you know, would be small enough to support us. But the old man will go on no terms, and she will not leave him."
The old man's fears in regard to the confiscation were not without good foundation. There was a party in Mexico, while we occupied the city, that had advocated "annexation" – that is, the annexing of the whole country to the United States. This party consisted chiefly of pure Spaniards, "ricos" of the republic, who wanted a government of stability and order. In the houses of these many of our officers visited, receiving those elegant hospitalities that were in general denied us by Mexicans of a more patriotic stamp. Our friends were termed "Ayankeeados," and were hated by the populace. But they were "marked" in still higher quarters. Several members of the government, then sitting at Queretaro – among others a noted minister – had written to their agents in the city to note down all those who, by word or act, might show kindness to the American army. Even those ladies who should present themselves at the theatre were to be among the number of the proscribed.
In addition to the Ayankeeados were many families – perhaps not otherwise predisposed to favor us – who by accident had admitted us within their circle – such accident as that which had opened the house and heart of Rafaela to my friend L – . These, too, were under "compromisa" with the rabble. My comrade's case was undoubtedly what he had termed it – a dilemma.
"You are not disposed to give her up, then?" said I, smiling at my anxious friend, as I put the interrogation.
"I know you are only jesting, Henry. You know me too well for that. No! Rather than give her up, I will stay and risk every thing – even life."
"Come, major," said I, "there will be no need for you to risk any thing, if you will only follow my advice. It is simply this – come home with your regiment; stay a month or two at New Orleans, until the excitement consequent upon our evacuation cools down. Shave off your mustache, put on plain clothes; come back and marry Rafaela."
"It is terrible to think of parting with her. Oh! – "
"That may all be; I doubt it not; but what else can you do?"
"Nothing – nothing. You are right. It is certainly the best – the only plan. I will follow it," and L – left me.
I saw no more of him for three days, when the brigade to which he belonged entered the city on its road homeward. He had detailed his plans to Rafaela, and bade her for a time farewell.
The other three divisions had already marched. Ours was to form the rear-guard, and that night was to be our last in the city of Mexico. I had retired to bed at an early hour, to prepare for our march on the morrow. I was about falling asleep when a loud knock sounded at my door. I rose and opened it. It was L – . I started as the light showed me his face – it was ghastly. His lips were white, his teeth set, and dark rings appeared around his eyes. The eyes themselves glared in their sockets, lit up by some terrible emotion.
"Come!" cried he, in a hoarse and tremulous voice. "Come with me, Henry, I need you."
"What is it, my dear L – ? A quarrel? A duel?"
"No! No! nothing of the sort. Come! come! come! I will show you a sight that will make a wolf of you. Haste! For God's sake, haste!"
I hurried on my clothes.
"Bring your arms!" cried L – , "you may require them."
I buckled on my sword and pistol-belt, and followed hastily into the street. We ran down the Calle Correo toward the Alameda. It was the road to the Convent of San Francisco, where our regiment had quartered for the night. As yet I knew not for what I was going. Could the enemy have attacked us? No – all was quiet. The people were in their beds. What could it be? L – had not, and would not explain; but to my inquiries, continually cried, "Haste – come on!" We reached the convent, and, hastily passing the guard, made for the quarters occupied by my friend. As we entered the room – a large one – I saw five or six females, with about a dozen men, soldiers and officers. All were excited by some unusual occurrence. The females were Mexicans, and their heads were muffled in their rebosos. Some were weeping aloud, others talking in strains of lamentation. Among them I distinguished the face of my friend's betrothed.
"Dearest Rafaela!" cried L – , throwing his arms around her – "it is my friend. Here, Henry,
