More like somnambulism than waking reality was now the life of
Florence Hamilton. No duty was unperformed, so exertion spared to
conduce to the comfort of the now diminished family circle. No words
of repining or regret were uttered--no tear dimmed the large dark
eyes. She moved and lived as it were mechanically, without the agency
of feeling or sympathy; yet though she obtruded her grief on none,
it was equally true that no gleam of returning cheerfulness ever
lightened the gloom which enveloped her. A something there was in the
hopeless, joyless expression of her beautiful face, which made the
heart ache; yet none offered sympathy, or strove to console her, for
she seemed unapproachable, with the cold, haughty glance of other
days. Painfully perceptible was the difference between Christian
fortitude and perfect hopelessness--gentle, humble resignation and
despair. There was no peace in her soul, for her future was shrouded
in gloom: she had no joys in anticipation. The sun of hope had set
forever to her vision, and she lived and bore her grief like one who
had counted the cost, and knew that for a little while longer she must
struggle on; and that oblivion of the past was dispensed only by
the angel of death. She acquiesced in Mary's plan of opening a small
school, and unfalteringly performed her allotted task as assistant
teacher. Unexpected success had crowned their efforts, and fifteen
pupils daily assembled in the room set apart for the purpose. Mary
had feared opposition on the part of the Padre, and was agreeably
surprised at the number of Catholic children committed to her care.
One morning early in October, having finished her household duties,
she repaired to the schoolroom for the day. Florence was already at
her post, though suffering from violent nervous headache. Mary seated
herself with her back to the door, and called one of her classes.
Arithmetic it proved; and if the spirits of the departed were
ever allowed to return in vindication of their works, the ghost
of Pythagoras would certainly have disturbed the equanimity of
the "muchachos," who so obstinately refused the assistance and
co-operation of his rules and tables. In vain she strove to impress on
one that 2 from 8 left 6. Like the little girl that Wordsworth met, he
persisted "it was seven." Despairing at last, she remanded the class
to their seats. Anxious to facilitate the progress of her pupils, Mary
spared no pains to make perspicuous what to them appeared obscure. The
little savages could not, or would net understand that the earth
was like a ball, and not only turned upon its own axis, but made
the entire circumference of the sun. A pair of globes could not be
procured, and she taxed her ingenuity for a substitute. Selecting two
apples, one enormous, the other medium size, she carefully introduced
a reed through the center of the smaller apple, thus causing it to
revolve on its axis. Calling up the tyros in geography, she took the
smallest, or "Earth," as she designated it, and while causing it to
perform the diurnal motion, she carried it slowly round the larger, or
"Sun," as she termed it; thus illustrating the combined movements of
our globe. Even the dullest could not fail to comprehend; and well
satisfied with the result of her experiment, she carefully put her
planets by in one corner of the schoolroom, and proceeded with her
questions. The imperfect recitation finished, Mary glanced across
the room, hoping her cousin's patience was not so tried, and some
brilliant coruscations in that direction fixed her attention. Florence
had dropped her aching head on the desk in front, shading her eyes
with her hand; before her, in dark array, stood some half dozen
small boys just beginning to spell. Each held a book containing
illustrations of various well-known articles and animals, having the
name beneath.
"U-r-n--teapot." Elliot Carlton, whose seat was near, gave a
suppressed giggle. Florence looked around inquiringly, then dropt her
head again on her hand, bidding the boy "spell on."
"S-t-a-g--goat." Elliot crammed his handkerchief into his mouth, and
Mary smiled.
"W-i-g--curly head." Florence was effectually roused this time by a
shout of laughter from Elliot, in which he was joined by Mary, and Dr.
Bryant, who had just entered and was standing in such a position that
no one had perceived him.
"Really, Miss Hamilton, I must congratulate you on the extraordinary
progress your pupils make; I was not aware that you cultivated their
powers of comparison in connection with the rudiments of orthoepy,"
"To what do you allude, Doctor; I am scarcely conscious of what passes
around me this morning," said Florence, wearily pressing her hand
across her aching brow.
"I am not surprised that you are somewhat stunned, though, after all,"
he continued, pointing to the picture of a ringleted pate, "the little
fellow was not far wrong, for this wig is incontestibly a curly head,"
With a faint smile which passed as quickly as it came, she dismissed
the class with an additional lesson.
"I am sorry to see you suffering so much this morning," said Frank,
seating himself beside her: "and should certainly not recommend this
schoolroom as an antidote to nervous attacks. Miss Mary, why do you
allow your cousin to overtax her strength? However, I bring you good
news. We have had an engagement at Gonzales, and, thank Heaven, are
victorious. The brave five hundred sent to preserve the field-piece
there, encountered double their number of the enemy, and not only
saved the cannon, but scattered the Mexicans in all directions.
Our brave band are marching to Coliad, where they expect to supply
themselves and comrades with ammunition; they have probably taken the
magazine before this, and are returning."
"Thank Heaven we have triumphed!" cried Mary, fervently clasping her
hands; "but oh! if the tide should turn this way, what will become of
us? The Mexicans are numerous here, and the Alamo strongly fortified
and in their possession." She turned her eyes inquiringly on Frank,
and started as she met the earnest, searching expression of his, bent
full upon her face.
"How pale you have grown of late," he murmured as to himself, and
replied to her questioning glance--"I think, myself, there is much
danger incurred by remaining here; but rest assured you shall not be
harmed. I am watching the signs of the times, and will warn you should
peril approach."
He took Florence's hand, and pressed it as he spoke; then turning
to Mary, who had walked away, he said--"I must insist on your cousin
having rest; she is weary and too much excited, and you, who are a
good nurse, must take better care of her."
"Indeed, Doctor, I did my best to prevent her teaching to-day, but she
would not listen to my entreaties," replied Mary, with averted head.
"If I might venture to advise yourself and cousin, Miss Hamilton, I
should suggest the discontinuance of your school, at least for the
present; for in these stormy times one scarce knows what a day may
bring forth: and, indeed, your pupils are dropping off within the last
few days, and you had better disband voluntarily."
"I believe you are right, Doctor; and if Mary concurs with us, I think
we will follow your advice."
"Do as you think best, Florry; I suppose we would have no pupils soon,
even if we continued our efforts; yet I dislike very much to give up
the school so very soon." Her voice faltered slightly, and her cheek
grew paler.
"Your reluctance to dismiss these children, I am not surprised at; and
if it will relieve you in the least, allow me to see their parents,
and arrange all pecuniary matters. You certainly feel no hesitation in
confiding this to me."
"Thank you, Dr. Bryant, you are very kind; but we will not burden you
with an additional trouble. I prefer taking these children home to
their parents, who committed them to my care; and as you and Florry
think it advisable, we will close our school this evening. Believe me,
however, that in refusing your kind offer, I am not insensible to, but
appreciate fully the motives which dictated it."
"Feel no hesitation in calling on me to perform any of the many
services a gentleman friend may so often render. If you knew how
gladly I would serve you, I am sure you would not fail to do so."
Shaking hands with Florence who stood near, he turned to go, but
paused at the threshold.
At this moment a slight disturbance in a distant corner of the room
attracted their attention, and springing forward, little Maria Carlton
exclaimed--"Oh, Miss Mary, what do you think? Somebody has eat up the
world, and bit a great big piece out of the sun!"
When the merriment this excited had in some degree subsided, Dr.
Bryant laughingly said--"I am much afraid you have a Polyphemus among
your pupils. Miss Mary, do discover the incipient monster and eject
him forthwith. Heavens, what powers of digestion he must possess! Good
morning, ladies--good morning." And with a bow he left the house.
"Florry, dear, do try and sleep some; I will do all that is necessary
about the children. True, there is not enough to occupy me long, and
meanwhile you must impart the news of this victory to Aunt Lizzy."