try thoughts passed through
my heart and brain. A clock striking from a large picture awoke me from
my reverie. I did not count the hours. Music began to play behind the
picture. It was a sad, sweet air, that chimed with my feelings, and to
some extent soothed them. I rose at length, and, hastily undressing,
threw myself upon the bed, mentally resolving to forget all--to forget
that I had ever seen her.

"I will rise early--return to camp without meeting her, and, once there,
my duties will drive away this painful fancy. The drum and the fife and
the roar of the cannon will drown remembrance. Ha! it was only a
passing thought at best--the hallucination of a moment. I shall easily
get rid of it. Ha! ha!"

I laid my fevered cheek upon the soft, cold pillow. I felt composed--
almost happy.

"A Creole of New Orleans! How could he have been here? Oh! have I not
the explanation already? Why should I dwell on it?"

Ah, jealous heart--it is easy to say "forget!"

I tried to prevent my thoughts from returning to this theme. I directed
them to a thousand things: to the ships--to the landing--to the army--to
the soldiers--to the buttons upon their jackets and the swabs upon their
shoulders--to everything I could think of: all in vain. Back, back,
back! in painful throes it came, and my heart throbbed, and my brain
burned with bitter memories freshly awakened.

I turned and tossed upon my couch for many a long hour. The clock in
the picture struck, and played the same music again and again, still
soothing me as before. Even despair has its moments of respite; and,
worn with fatigue, mental as well as physical, I listened to the sad,
sweet strain, until it died away into my dreams.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

THE LIGHT AFTER THE SHADE.

When I awoke all was darkness around me. I threw out my arms and opened
the damask curtains. Not a ray of light entered the room. I felt
refreshed, and from this I concluded I must have slept long. I slipped
out upon the floor and commenced groping for my watch. Someone knocked.

"Come in!" I called.

The door opened, and a flood of light gushed into the apartment. It was
a servant bearing a lamp.

"What is the hour?" I demanded.

"Nine o'clock, _mi amo_," (my master), was the reply.

The servant set down the lamp and went out. Another immediately
entered, carrying a salver with a small gold cup.

"What have you there?"

"_Chocolate_, master; Dona Joaquina