that. I had set out on this expedition with the idea that I was
serving some good cause--that old-fashioned principles were forcing
these men to fight for their independence. But I had been early
undeceived. At the same time that I was enjoying my first sight of new
and beautiful things I was being robbed of my illusions and my ideals.
And nothing could make up to me for that. By merely travelling on
around the globe I would always be sure to find some new things of
interest. But what would that count if I lost my faith in men! If I
ceased to believe in their unselfishness and honesty. Even though I
were young and credulous, and lived in a make-believe world of my own
imagining, I was happier so than in thinking that everyone worked for
his own advantage, and without justice to others, or private honor. It
harmed no one that I believed better of others than they deserved, but
it was going to hurt me terribly if I learned that their aims were
even lower than my own. I knew it was Aiken who had so discouraged me.
It was he who had laughed at me for believing that Laguerre and his
men were fighting for liberty. If I were going to credit him, there
was not one honest man in Honduras, and no one on either side of this
revolution was fighting for anything but money. He had made it all
seem commercial, sordid, and underhand. I blamed him for having so
shaken my faith and poisoned my mind. I scowled at his unconscious
figure as he lay sleeping peacefully on his blanket, and I wished
heartily that I had never set eyes on him. Then I argued that his
word, after all, was not final. He made no pretence of being a saint,
and it was not unnatural that a man who held no high motives should
fail to credit them to others. I had partially consoled myself with
this reflection, when I remembered suddenly that Beatrice herself had
foretold the exact condition which Aiken had described.

"That is not war," she had said to me, "that is speculation!" She