Nesbitt Memorial Library Journal, Volume 9, Number 3, September 1999 Page: 166
[68] p. : ill. ; 28 cm.View a full description of this periodical.
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Nesbitt Memorial Library Journal
for me, for I was its queen that night, and I was
determined to enjoy my brief reign to perfect
satiety. At length the ball concluded, and we re-
tired to our places of rest. Then I saw the joyful
flush of her cheek, and the tender light in her
large brown eyes which whispered to me that all
was well with my sweet friend.
"Why, Clara! what are you doing with
this?" I said, taking in my hand a silver chain
which hung on her neck, and which I had seen
Bowie wear.
"Don't touch it, Isabella," she said-"it
is mine. He threw it on my neck as we parted,
and-Oh! darling-I am happy to-night."'
Bowie had gone, having started on his
return to San Antonio, in company with his friend,
Pistalio. I have not said much about Pistalio, for
I have been so taken up with the love and sor-
rows of my friend Clara that I have really not
had time. But, as I said before, he was young
and handsome, agreeable and gay, and we were
mutually attracted to each other that night of the
ball; so much that I secretly concluded that Gen.
Somervell was much too old for me, and that it
was better to be a young man's darling that a old
man's slave.
Thus ended my first grand ball in Texas,
an event which gave my mind employment for
some time afterward; my evening's conquests
being something to talk over by day and to dream
of by night.
But these quiet, pleasant days were
quickly darkened by the heavy cloud of war
which suddenly swept over our land, shedding
consternation and dismay upon all hearts.
First came rumors, which were not much
attended to. Then the call of Travis for help, a
vain, despairing cry, which rang in my ears many
a long day afterwards, as the ghosts of those
martyred men rose in my visions of sleep. But
strange to say, at the time when our hearts were
almost paralyzed with gloomy foreboding, Clara
Lisle seemed suddenly endowed with a heroism
which might not be shamed by the spirit of herown immortal Bowie. To see her as she inspired
and encouraged those who were preparing to go
to his assistance, how unfaltering she labored in
preparation for their departure; how hopefully
and cheerfully she contended that they would
yet be victorious, astonished all who knew her
best. I knew how ardently she desired to be with
him she loved and share his danger. But that could
not be.
A few nights after our company started
for San Antonio, and I went over to Clara's to
spend the night with her. It was at her urgent
request, for now that the company had gone, the
excitement which buoyed her up gave way, and
the spirit of gloom took possession of her. It was
a wild night on the 6th of March, and the wind
blew in fitful gusts against the front door, which,
not being firmly secured shook and rattled as if
the very fiends of the air were tearing it down. It
was late before either of us slept, for the excit-
ing rumors which were constantly arriving had
been more than usually threatening that day, and
we lay awake until after midnight, talking them
over. At length, we slept, I know not how long,
when suddenly I was awakened by shrieks from
my companion, who I found sitting up in bed,
while her features were convulsed and her limbs
almost paralyzed with terror. I strove to soothe
her, and at length so far succeeded that she was
able to relate the following dream:
"I was dreaming of Bowie, dear Isabella,
and thought that he had told me that he was com-
ing tonight, I dreamt that the night was wild and
terrible, just as it is now, but in the midst of it I
knew he would come, for you know he would
not break his word. All at once the wind grew
fiercer than ever, and shrieked and howled as if
in agony, and with that came the tramping of his
horse's feet. Then came the sound of his foot-
step on the gallery, and then a knocking at the
door, which fell upon my ear with a portentous
sound, such as you feel when the first tolling of a
death knell falls upon the ear. I rushed to open it,
exclaiming 'Bowie have you come at last?' But
166
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Nesbitt Memorial Library. Nesbitt Memorial Library Journal, Volume 9, Number 3, September 1999, periodical, September 1999; Columbus, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth151407/m1/38/: accessed May 1, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Nesbitt Memorial Library.