The camp was in a tumult
of preparation immediately; Houston was lending his great
physical strength to the mechanical difficulties to be
encountered. A crowd of men was around. Suddenly a woman
touched him on the arm, and he straightened himself and looked
at her.
"You will kill Santa Anna, General? You will kill this fiend
who has escaped from hell! By the mother of Christ, I ask
it."
"My dear madam!"
He was so moved with pity that he could not for a moment or
two give her any stronger assurance. For this suppliant,
pallid and frenzied with sorrow, was the once beautiful Senora
Worth. He looked at her hollow eyes, and shrunk form, and
worn clothing, and remembered with a pang, the lovely,
gracious lady clad in satin and lace, with a jewelled comb in
her fine hair and a jewelled fan in her beautiful hands, and
a wave of pity and anger passed like a flame over his face.
"By the memory of my own dear mother, Senora, I will make
Santa Anna pay the full price of his cruelties."
"Thank you, Senor"; and she glided away with her tearless eyes
fixed upon the curl of black hair in her open palm.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE LOADSTONE IN THE BREAST.
"But to the hero, when his sword
Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word,
And in its hollow tones are heard.
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