CHAPTER XXXI.
"So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry slave, at night Scourged to his dungeon; but sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams." BRYANT.
A bright day in April drew near its close, and the golden rays of the spring sun poured joyously through the open casement into the chamber of death.

Yes, the "King of Terrors" drew nigh, and the cold damp, which his black pinions swept on, settled upon the brow of Inez.

A few days after the massacre at Goliad, a raging fever crimsoned her cheeks, and lent unwonted brilliance to the large black eyes.

Delirium ensued, and wildly the unfortunate girl raved of the past--of her former love, her hopelessness, her utter desolation.

The dreamless sleep of exhaustion followed this temporary madness: long she lay in the stupor so near akin to death, and now, consciousness restored, she awaited in silence her hour! In vain the kind-hearted Senora entreated her to see a priest--steadfastly she refused.