After regarding them for a sufficient time, Lopez began an examination of the prisoners.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Rita answered.

"I am a poor woman," said she, "and this lady is a foreigner who does not understand Spanish."

"What are you doing here alone on this road?"

"We are fugitives."

"Fugitives from whom?"

"From the Carlists."

At this Lopez was visibly excited.

"The Carlists?" he asked. "Where are they? Where did you leave them? Tell the truth, woman, and you shall be rewarded. But if you are false, I shall regard you both as spies."

"Noble captain, I am anxious to tell the truth, and glad that we have fallen among friends. We have escaped from an old castle some distance away, and have been flying for hours—"

"A castle!" said Lopez, interrupting her; "where is it?"

"There, to the north," said Rita.

"Oh, very well. I shall be able to find out from you again where it may be situated; but now tell me more about yourselves. What were you doing at the castle?"

"Noble senor, about three weeks ago I was taken prisoner by the Carlists, and they took me to this castle, where they made me serve as an attendant on the prisoners. Among them was this lady."

"Prisoners?" cried Lopez; "have they any others?"

"Two days ago," said Rita, "they brought several new prisoners."

"How many?"

"Six."

"Who were they?"

"I don't know—foreigners."

"Men or women?"

"Three of them were men and three were women. Some one said they were English."

"English?" said Lopez, growing more excited still at this news, which was so much in accordance with his wishes—"English? Tell me more about them."

"Well, senor, of the men one was elderly; the other two were young, quite handsome; they looked rich, noble, proud."

"Never mind. Now tell me about the women. Were they ladies?"

"Yes, senor, they were noble ladies, wealthy, high-born, proud. And one was elderly, and they said she was a great lady. And some said she was the mother of the young ladies, though they did not look like her daughters, nor did they look like sisters."

"Tell me about them; what did they look like?"

"One, senor, looked like a Spanish lady. And she was dark and beautiful and sad, with melancholy eyes. Never did the sun shine on a more lovely lady; but her sadness always made me feel sad."

Lopez interrupted her with an impatient gesture.

"Never mind her. Now describe the other one." said he.

"The other?" said Rita; "she looked like an English duchess. She was light—oh, a wonderful light blonde, with golden hair, and eyes as blue as heaven, with cheeks pink-and-white, and with dimples dancing on them, and with the smile of an angel that always lurked in her lips and laughed out of her eyes. And she was as beautiful as a dream, and no one ever saw her sad. Heaven does not hold in all its mansions a more beautiful, beautiful angel than this English duchess."

Rita spoke enthusiastically; the more so as she saw Lopez look at her with a deep attention, and a gaze that devoured all her words.

"That is she!" cried Lopez, in intense excitement. "That is the one of whom I wished to hear. So you have seen her? Ah, well, good woman, this information is your best passport—more, it is worth much to me. I'll reward you."

"Oh, senor," said Rita, anxious to strike while the iron was hot, and secure her freedom at once, "if this information is welcome and valuable, the only reward I want is to let us go. Let us go, noble senor, for we have urgent business, and our detention here may be our ruin."

"Ruin?" cried Lopez; "what nonsense! You are free now, and safe from the Carlists. As to letting you go, that is out of the question. You are the very woman I want to see. You know all about this castle. You must be my guide back to it. I have been sent to recapture those unfortunate prisoners. I have been unable thus far to get on their track. As to that castle, there is a certain one up yonder which I had an idea of reconnoitring; but if all I hear is true, I shall have to get artillery. Now you have escaped, and you may be able to give me information of a very valuable kind. I should like to know how you contrived to escape from a place like that, and I urge you to be frank with me. Remember this, that the quickest way to liberty will be to help me to get those prisoners. You must remain with me until then. The sooner I capture them, the sooner you shall be allowed to depart."

All this was a sore blow to Rita's hopes; but her quick mind soon took in all the facts of her position, and she concluded that it would be best to be frank, as the captain had urged. She also saw that it would be for her interest that the castle should be captured as soon as possible. And she knew, too, that a band of brave men, headed by a determined leader, could have no difficulty in capturing the castle by a surprise, if she should only make known to them the passage-way by which she had lately escaped.

Accordingly Rita proceeded to give to Lopez a full account of the way in which she had managed to effect the escape of herself and her companion from the castle. Lopez listened with the deepest attention, making her explain with the utmost minuteness the nature of the chambers and passages which she had traversed, and their position with reference to the rest of the castle; also the track down the sides of the chasm; its height, length, and width, and how far it offered concealment to those passing over it.

"My good woman," said he, "do not object to a little further detention. I assure you it need not be for more than twenty-four hours. After all, what is that? By this time to-morrow I shall have that castle in my own hands. It is of such infinite importance to me to capture those prisoners, that I assure you there is nothing I will not do for you, if you are faithful to me till I conclude this business of mine. So make up your mind to work for me in a cheerful, loyal, active way; and you will rejoice to your dying day that you ever met with Hernando Lopez."

During this conversation, Russell, standing apart, had watched them attentively. Although unable to understand the words, he was able to gather from the faces, gestures, and tones of the two a very fair idea of their meaning. He could see that Lopez grew more and more excited; that the excitement was most intense, yet altogether agreeable; and that he himself was far, very far, from being the subject of that conversation. He could see that the effect produced upon Lopez was of the most desirable kind, and that the dreaded captain was now in a mood from which no danger was to be apprehended. And therefore it was that the virtuous, yet undeniably timid Russell, began to pluck up heart. To such a degree was his late terror surmounted, that he now became conscious of a fact which had hitherto been suppressed under the long excitement of hurried flight and sudden capture; and this fact was that he had been fasting for a long time, and was now ravenously hungry.

At length the conversation ended, and Lopez was about to turn away, when, suddenly, he noticed Russell. He raised his hat courteously as if to a lady, and Russell returned this civility with a most awkward bow. But Lopez did not notice this. He was in a pleasant frame of mind, and full of excited hopes.

"I hope," said he, with a polite smile, "your ladyship will not be put out by this slight delay. Otherwise I am at your service."

Russell understood this to be an offer of assistance, and, feeling secure in his disguise, he made a bold effort to communicate with the enemy. And this is the way he did it:

"Me hungry," he said; "d—n hungry!"

"Hungria?" said Lopez. "Ah, a Hungarian lady! Ah, true—I had forgotten. And so, Rita, your friend is a Hungarian lady?"

"Yes," said Rita, delighted at having her companion's nationality so conveniently disposed of. "Yes; she's a foreigner, a Hungarian lady, and no one can understand her language."

"Very good," said Lopez. "It is all the same whether Hungarian or Spanish. She is a lady, and shall be treated as well as possible. And now, Rita, you must rest, for you must be strong and active for tomorrow's work."

With these words Lopez showed them to their resting-place. It was in the loft, where Brooke and Talbot were confined. Here Rita ascended nimbly, and Russell followed, not without difficulty; and soon Rita forgot her fatigue, and Russell his hunger, in a sound sleep.



CHAPTER XXXVII.

IN WHICH RUSSELL MAKES NEW FRIENDS, AND TALBOT SEES NEW PERILS.

Russell and Rita had thus been brought to the loft of the old mill, in which Brooke and Talbot were prisoners. It was fortunate for these latter that there had occurred this little episode of the arrival of new prisoners, for it served to give a diversion to their thoughts, turning them into a new channel, and relieving them from that intense excitement of feeling by which they had been overcome. It also gave them a subject of common interest apart from themselves; and thus they were once more able to converse with one another, without having that sense of violent self-restraint which had thus far afflicted them. Brooke was able to be lively, without any affectation of too extravagant gayety, and Talbot was no longer crushed into dumbness.

They had seen the arrival of the prisoners from the window, and had watched them closely. The two fugitives had been captured close by the mill by the band of Lopez, just as that band was approaching the spot after a weary and useless day. The examination had been overheard by the two listeners in the loft, who were thus able to understand the meaning of the new turn which affairs had taken. After the prisoners had been brought up to the loft, their character and appearance still formed a field for ingenious speculation; and many were the theories hazarded by each, in turn, toward the solution of those points.

Morning at length came, and the prisoners awaked. Rita was first on her feet, and Brooke was able to read her whole character at a glance. He saw her to be a common sort of woman, with a bold face, piercing eyes, and ready tongue. He soon entered into a conversation with her, and learned from her exactly what she had already told Lopez. She also informed him that Lopez had detained her, in order that she might guide him back to the castle. This much Brooke had already gathered from what little he had overheard of the examination of the previous evening, and it gave him unmixed pleasure. For, although he had refused to violate his honor by acting as guide to betray the castle, he had no objection that others should do so. The fate of the castle and its Carlist occupants was in itself a matter of indifference to him. To be taken there would make an agreeable change for himself and Talbot. If Lopez should take them with him, it would be pleasant to go back with Talbot to that tower and renew the past; and although, for reasons already given, he did not feel like flying with her, still he felt that liberty would be better for both, and was ready to avail himself of any chance that might offer.

Brooke reported to Talbot what Rita had said, and while they were conversing Russell awoke. Suddenly he detected, to his amazement, the sound of English words. The shock was so great that he was on the very point of betraying himself, and it was only by a strong effort that he maintained his self-control. Then, listening quietly, he understood the whole state of the case, as it had resulted from Rita's examination by Lopez.

Unable to sleep any longer, Russell roused himself, and slowly putting himself on his feet, walked to the window. His figure and movements at once struck the notice of Talbot, who drew the attention of Brooke to the strange and eccentric attitudes of the "Hungarian countess." Brooke scrutinized the good Russell closely, and expressed his opinions with great freedom, and a severe criticism followed, in which these two, safe, as they supposed, in the ignorance of the foreigner, made very severe strictures upon Russell's whole personnel.

Russell, for his part, watched them as well as he could, and listened attentively, without being in the least offended. He could perceive easily enough that the priest was English and the other was American. He longed, in his helplessness, to take them into his confidence. He was not at all satisfied with his own relations toward Rita, and thought that if he could only trust these two, who were of his own blood, he might be safe. And yet he felt the need of caution. They might betray him. Like himself, they were prisoners, perhaps in a more perilous situation, and would not hesitate to sacrifice him if they could gain anything by it.

When he heard of the proposed return to the castle, he felt at first thoroughly dismayed. Farther thought, however, made it seem less dreadful, for he hoped that if Lopez were to capture the place and deliver Katie, his wrath might be appeased, and he might recover his hidden money; while, on the other hand, he perceived that if the worst came to the worst and his disguise was discovered, Lopez even then could not be more dangerous than "His Majesty" had been.

There was something, however, in the tone and manner of these two, as well as in their general aspect, which gradually broke down the mistrust and reserve of Russell. He began to feel convinced that he might trust them, that his secret would be safe in their hands, and that they might give him valuable information and advice, if not assistance. Besides, he reflected that chances of escape might arise, and he thought that he would be safer in their company than in that of Rita. Finally, he came to the conclusion to trust them. But here he determined to go only half-way. He would tell them that he was English, but not an Englishman, and would leave farther disclosures to the chapter of accidents. If Lopez should discover this much and no more, there would be no danger, and he might conclude that he himself had made the mistake, since Hungarian and English were both alike unknown to him.



After careful observation, Russell also concluded that he would be safer if he addressed his confidences to the young priest with the sweet and gentle face. The other one looked less trustworthy, or at least less inclined to pity. Under these circumstances, therefore, and with this design, the good man began his advances, moving in a hesitating way toward them, with furtive glances, and with such very extraordinary gestures that Brooke and Talbot regarded him in great surprise.

"The Hungarian countess," said Talbot, "seems more eccentric than ever."

Russell looked all around in a stealthy way. Rita's eyes were fixed on him, but he did not care for that. He smiled at her, however, and nodded blithely, so as to disarm any possible suspicions, and then addressed himself to Talbot.

"Oh, sir!" said he, "I'm not a Hungarian countess at all. I'm a poor unfortunate English-woman, that's escaping from the banditti, with the help of this good creature. And I know I can trust you."

At this the amazement of Brooke and Talbot was inexpressible. Brooke, however, held his tongue, seeing that as Talbot had been addressed, it would be better for her to answer. So Talbot, after a few expressions of sympathy, asked Russell to explain farther.

Russell then informed them that her name was Mrs. Russell; that she had been captured, along with her daughter, by the Carlists; that she had escaped, hoping to get help to rescue her daughter. All this Russell stated, not without much circumlocution and contradiction.

Brooke now interposed.

"But don't you know," said he, "that these people are Republicans—that they're going to capture the castle, or try to? If they succeed, they will free your daughter. So you see you have fallen among the right sort of people, and you may be quite at your ease. It's all the best for you. If I were you, I would tell the captain all about it. Get yonder good woman, your companion, to explain."

At this Russell gave a look of despair.

"The very thing," said he, "that I dare not do."

"Why not?"

Russell then, still keeping up the part of Mrs. Russell, and mentioning Katie as her daughter, explained that Lopez was his bitter enemy, and told them about his love for Katie and his ejection from the railway-carriage.

"Well," said Brooke, "you needn't be afraid of him. This matter will settle itself. He'll free your daughter from captivity, and she'll marry him, of course. After that you can take the sweetest revenge on him by tormenting him for the rest of his days as his mother-in-law."

Russell sighed a heavy sigh and turned away. As he did so, he caught the eyes of Rita, which were fastened upon him with a fixed, earnest, eager stare, and there was that in her look which served to drive away every other thought except the one that in this woman there was a new danger, more formidable than any which had yet menaced him. This look made him feel like an arrested debtor in the grasp of the bailiff, or like an insane man under the watchful eye of his keeper. In Rita he now recognized his bailiff and his keeper. She was worse. She had designs on him! And for what? For marrying him. Marriage was, of course, impossible, for he had a wife already; but did Rita know this? To tell the truth, he had been fooling her; and he now saw for the first time that he would have to answer for this. When she should discover it, what would she do? He had heard the words of the poet:

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,"

and he recalled these words only to shudder. He shuddered still more as he thought that Rita belonged to the Spanish race—a race that never forgives—a race implacable, swift to avenge—a race that recognizes only one atonement for wrongs, and that is to wipe them out in blood.

Such were the thoughts of our honest friend, and they were painful in the extreme. They awakened new fears. That one look of Rita's made him dread her more than Lopez, more than "His Majesty." He began to think now, with something like pleasure, of going back to the castle. Lopez would protect him; and if Lopez should fail, he would steal back by the secret path and surrender himself to "His Majesty." He would find his bonds, and purchase his freedom with these. In addition to this, he determined to wait for a favorable opportunity, when Rita might be away, to confide to these new and sympathizing friends the whole story of his woes.

Further conversation between Russell and these new friends was now prevented by the entrance of Lopez himself. He advanced to Brooke, and addressed him with much civility, not without friendliness.

"Senor," said he, "I have been thinking over your case, and I have concluded to hand you over to my military superiors. They may take the responsibility of deciding about your guilt or innocence. But for the present, as I am responsible for you, I must detain you as my prisoner. If you were only connected with some recognized profession, I should be happy to accept your parole, and let you follow at your leisure; but as you are considered here a possible spy, I cannot think of that. You must, therefore, come with us under guard. Moreover, as to your friend, this young priest, he must consider himself as bound, for a short time, with us. I expect to have need of him for a few days. I have nothing against him; he is not a prisoner, but is detained merely for a purpose in connection with his sacred office. When that purpose is accomplished, he will be at liberty to go or stay."

With these words Lopez retired. He had taken no notice of Russell, at which the latter felt a deep sense of relief.

Far different, however, were the feelings of Brooke, and of Talbot also, when he had translated to her the captain's words.

"He has need of me," repeated Talbot, "for a purpose in connection with my sacred office. Is that what he said, Brooke?"

"Yes," said Brooke, in a low voice.

"But what am I to do?"

Brooke led her away, out of Russell's hearing, and conversed with her in low whispers.

"Don't anticipate trouble, Talbot," he whispered.

"But I must prepare myself for a possible emergency," was the reply. "Now, what emergency can possibly arise?"

"The burial of the dead, perhaps," said Brooke. "They are going to attack the castle. Some will be killed. That's natural enough. Have you nerve enough to perform the burial-service?"

"I don't know," said Talbot. "I might as well try to command a regiment."

"Oh, I'll show you the whole thing. All you've got to do is to read the burial-service out of the breviary. We'll practice it together. You need only pronounce the Latin like Italian. Do you know Italian?"

"No."

"French?"

"No."

"Oh, well, you're an English priest, you know, and so you had better pronounce it like English. These devils will be none the wiser."

Talbot was silent and thoughtful for a few moments.

"Brooke," said she, at length, "what were they saying about Lopez going to rescue an English girl, this—this person's daughter? This person, a—Mrs. Russell, said that Lopez was in love with the girl. You spoke about his rescuing her and marrying her."

She hesitated.

"Well?" said Brooke.

"Well," said Talbot, mournfully, "don't you see what I mean? and the use he wishes to make of me in my false character as priest?"

"By Jove!" exclaimed Brooke, as Talbot's meaning dawned upon him.

"You see, Brooke, I'm afraid that in my disguise as priest I may be required to marry this English girl to Lopez; and that is sacrilege—it is infamy—it is too horrible. I cannot—I will not. Never!"

At this Brooke was filled with consternation. He could only say something about the necessity of not anticipating evil, and express the hope that it might only be a burial. But Talbot felt that her fear was just, and that a new and unavoidable danger now arose before her.

***

In a short time after this the band set off, guided by Rita. Toward evening they reached a spot about a mile from the castle, where they secreted themselves in a grove, and rested.

Evening came, and the moon rose. Then, as silently as possible, they went to the tower. Here arrangements were made for the security of the prisoners, and Rita prepared to lead the band through the secret way into the castle.



CHAPTER XXXVIII.

IN WHICH, AFTER A SERIES OF SURPRISES, "HIS MAJESTY" GETS THE GREATEST SURPRISE OF ALL.

Return must now be made to the castle and the two young men whose duel had been interrupted. Captured thus, they stood for a time quite overwhelmed, their intense excitement now followed by a violent reaction, in the midst of which there was the appalling thought of the consequences which might flow from this. For Ashby to be found in Harry's room would surely lead to the discovery of everything—the secret passage-way, the sliding-door, and, perhaps, their visits to the ladies. Each one thought of this for himself. Each one had believed that the Carlists did not know about the secret passages. But now all was over.

"Well," continued "His Majesty," speaking in Spanish, "business before pleasure. We will examine you both about this tomorrow. For the present we will leave a guard in this room. Meanwhile, Senor Rivers, you may hand over that pistol; or stay—no—you have put it to such a noble use that you may keep it: one pistol against six men need not be feared. And now, gentlemen, adieu till to-morrow."

With these words "His Majesty" retired, securing the door behind him, and Harry and Ashby were left with the guards. They stood apart from one another, pale, anxious, and each wrapped up in his own thoughts. For all that had happened each blamed the other, and thus their mutual hate was only intensified.

The cause of "His Majesty's" appearance upon the scene can be easily explained. He had been greatly troubled in his mind by the "ghost" in Mrs. Russell's room, and could not account for it. He had not thought of any secret communication, for, being a comparative stranger here, he had not known of any. Thinking, however, that he might get some light on the subject, he had wandered to the door of Harry's room, and there the sound of voices had arrested his attention. Knowing that Harry was placed there in solitary confinement, he felt that the clue to the mystery might now be here; and so, gathering half a dozen men, he had come in upon them as above described.

Leaving this room, "His Majesty" now went once more to the room of Mrs. Russell, in the hope of gaining more light yet. Upon entering, he was once more nearly overthrown by the impetuous onslaught of the irrepressible Mrs. Russell, who, at this new and unexpected advent of her royal lover, overwhelmed herself and everybody else with her joyous vociferations. This, however, "His Majesty" endured with truly royal dignity, tempering kindness with firmness, and dealing gently with her weak woman's nature. Katie was there, but the royal eye, on wandering about, noticed the absence of Dolores.

"Whativer's become av the senorita?" he asked.

Mrs. Russell gave a startled look around.

"What! Where is she? She's gone!" she screamed; "she's gone! Oh, Your Gracious Majesty, the ghost! the ghost! Save me!"

"Whisht! Howld yer tung!" said "His Majesty." "The ghost, is it? So he's come an' carried off the senorita! Well, I've found the ghost."

"Found the ghost!" gasped Mrs. Russell.

"Mesilf has. Begorra, it's the truth I'm tellin'. Do ye know his name?"

"His name!" gasped Mrs. Russell, once more thinking of her late terrible fancy.

"Yis, his name; ye can't guess it? No? Well, I'll tell yez. It's Ashby."

"Ashby! Mr. Ashby!" cried Mrs. Russell. "Why! how could he get here?"

"Oh, well," said "His Majesty," "he did get here, an' that's no loie. How he got here I'll find out to-morrer. But he did get here, an' he's been here since, an' by the same token he's sperited off the senorita. But there's two av thim."

"Two of them!" repeated Mrs. Russell, in wonder.

"Ay, two av thim; an' the other's that young blade Rivers!"

Katie, thus far, had not said a word. She heard of the discovery of Ashby with surprise, but with no deeper feeling. The moment, however, that the name of Rivers was mentioned, she gave a gasp, and her head fell forward on her hands.

"His Majesty" noticed the action. He put his own interpretation upon it. But he said not a word that had any reference to it; he was too cautious for that. And surely in this "His Majesty" showed a skill and a discrimination which was most politic, and well worthy of the royal ruler of millions. More than this. One glance showed him how the land lay with Katie; so our monarch, not content with abstaining from all further allusion to Harry, actually carried his complaisance—or, if you please, his diplomacy—so far as to try to appease all possible anxieties that might arise in Katie's mind.

"Shure the two lads meant no harrum at all at all," said "His Majesty." "They happened to find a way to get here, an' they came here, an' begorra they'd have been fools if they didn't. Shure to glory, there's no harrum in life in comin' here on a bit av a visit. An' there's no wondher that a young man 'ud come here, wid such charrums as these to invoite him. Shure it 'ud be enough to call the dead back to loife, so it would. An' if they've run off wid the senorita, all I can say is, they can't go far, an' the senorita'll have to come back agin, so she will:

"'Tis to visit my Nancy I go, Through bushes au' briers an' flucis; For Nancy has bothered me brains, An' I've taken French lave av me sinsis.'"

"And wasn't there any ghost at all?" asked Mrs. Russell, to whom this information had given inexpressible relief.

"Well," said "His Majesty, "there's no knowin'; an' it's best to be on yer gyard, so it is, for sorra a one av us knows whin a ghost may be prowlin' round about, an' there ye have it. As for the other ghosts, Ashby an' Rivers, they won't do yez any more harruum—they're undher gyard."

"Under guard!" said Katie, and threw an imploring look at "His Majesty." It was almost the first time that he had fairly caught her eye, so dexterously had she always avoided his glance.

"Well," said "His Majesty," "they're none the worse for that—not a bit. Av all r'y'l atthributes none is so thruly majistic as the atthributes av mercy, an' makeniss, an' magnanimeetee. These are the shuprame atthributes av r'y'lty, an' iminintly characterize our own r'y'l chyracter, so they does. So the young lads may whistle for all av me—an' sorra a harrum shall harrum thim."

At this Katie threw toward "His Majesty" a glance of gratitude unspeakable, which sank deep into the royal soul.

"An' now, ladies," said he, "I must infarrum yez that afther the ayvints av this noight I doesn't considher this room safe for yez at all at all. Shure it's loike a public thoroughfare, an' it's a gathering-place an' rendezvous for min an' angils, ghosts an' hobgoblins, an' all manner av ayvil craytures. So the long an' the short av it is, I have to infarrum yez that I'm going to move yez out av this the morrer, an' have yez put in another room where there won't be nothin' in loife to harrum yez, where ye'll have more comfort comboined with safety thin ye've had here."

This remark made Katie reflect. The worst had already happened—the discovery and arrest of Harry. After that she could not hope to see him again. She did not wish to leave the room; but as Harry's visits were now at an end, she could not see that it would make any difference. But Mrs. Russell had a great deal to say.

"Oh, how grateful!" she cried, in her most gushing manner. "Oh, how deeply grateful I am to Your Gracious Majesty! It's so kind, so thoughtful, so considerate, and so true. Oh, what can I ever say or do to express my gratitude? Only, Your Gracious Majesty, do not leave me now! Leave me not—oh, forsake me not! This room is a place of horrors. It is a haunted chamber. When you are here, I have no fear; but when you are gone, then I am overwhelmed. Oh, Your Gracious Majesty, forsake me not! Leave me not! Oh, leave me not, or—I—shall—die!"

Against such an appeal as this the gallantry of "His Majesty" was scarcely proof.

He threw a tender glance at Katie, which, however, was not perceived, and then said:

"Shure to glory, if it's afeared ye are, why that's a different matther, so it is. I didn't intind to move yez away this noight; but if yez are afeared, why there's no raison in loife why yez shouldn't go off now to the other room."

"Oh, take me away!" cried Mrs. Russell; "take me away, Your Royal Majesty—take me with you!"

"Shure it's mesilf that'll take both av yez, if ye wish it, whiniver ye say the worrud," said "His Majesty." "An' remimber, there's the crown av Spain, an' the power, an' the glory, an' the dignity, an' the pomp, an' the splindor av the Spanish throne, all to be had wid a wink av one av your lovely eyes, so it is. Remimber that."

"Ah, sire!" said Mrs. Russell, languishingly. "Oh, Your Gracious Majesty! Ah, what shall I say?"

She had taken it all to herself, and in the most open way; while Katie didn't take it at all. "His Majesty" saw this, and determined to be more direct.

"Well," said he, "ye see—"

But at this moment a wild yell sounded forth from without, with sudden and appalling fury. It burst upon their ears, from the stillness of midnight, with terrific violence, chilling the very blood in their veins. Then came the rush of heavy feet, the clatter of swords, the explosion of firearms, the shouts of many voices:

"Hurrah for the Republic!"

"Down with the Carlists!"

Mrs. Russell gave a long, piercing yell, which drowned every other sound, and flung herself into "His Majesty's" arms.

"His Majesty" tore himself away.

"What's that?" he cried. "It's an insurrection av the populace, so it is. We'll so off an' mate thim."

With these words he rushed out of the room.

The ladies were left alone, and listened in terror to the uproar. Up from every side there came the shouts of men, the tramp of rushing feet, the clangor of trumpets, and the thunder of firearms. Far on high from the battlemented roof; far down from the vaulted cellars; without, from the courtyards; within, from unseen chambers, came the uproar of fighting-men. There was a wild rush forward, and another fierce rush backward; now all the conflict seemed to sway on one side, now on another; at one time the congregated sounds would all gather apparently in one central point, then this would burst and break, and with a wild explosion all the castle, in every part, would be filled with universal riot. Then came the clang of arms, the volleying of guns, the trampling of feet, the hurrying, the struggling, the panting, the convulsive screaming of a multitude of men in the fierce, hot agony of battle.

In the midst of this the door was flung open, and "His Majesty" burst into the room. His apparel was all disordered; his face and hands were blackened with powder and stained with blood. He appeared to have been in the thickest of the fight. He burst in, and instantly banging to the door, he fastened it on the inside.

"We're betrayed!" he cried. "It's the inimy! We'll be captured! We'll be executed! All's lost!"

At this Mrs. Russell flung herself into the royal arms. "His Majesty" had by this time grown so accustomed to this that he accepted it with resignation as part of the misfortunes of the hour, and merely heaved a sigh.

But they were roused by thunderous blows upon the door. Massive though that door was, it would soon be beaten in by such blows as those.

"We're lost!" cried "His Majesty." "Is there any way out? Shure some av yez know," he asked, eagerly. "Ye know," he said, earnestly, to Katie, "the way—the way he came—Rivers!"

"His Majesty's" position was desperate. At such an appeal Katie could not be unmoved.

"Save me! Show me the way," repeated "His Majesty."

Katie said nothing. She hurried toward the fireplace. "His Majesty" followed. Mrs. Russell still clung to the royal person.

Katie pointed up the steps to the opening.

"Is it there?—begorra, mesilf never knowed it or suspected it."

He seized a torch that lay in the fireplace, and sprang up into the opening. Then he lighted it.

"Aren't you going to take me, Your Sacred Majesty? Oh, leave me not!"

"Be jabers!" cried "His Majesty," "I'll baffle thim yet: yis, ladies—I'll help yez—come along, thin."

Mrs. Russell came first; Katie then followed. Katie's motive in following was nothing in particular, but several in general. In the first place, she was afraid of the fighting-men bursting into the room; in the second place, she naturally clung to the fortunes of her auntie; and, finally, she had a vague idea of meeting with Harry.

Thus the two ladies followed, while "His Majesty" went ahead, carrying the torch.

At length he came to a place where the stone opened into the passage-way. It had been left open by Ashby. This place seemed to "His Majesty" to lead in a more favorable direction, and accordingly he turned in here. Then he descended the steps, and finally reached an opening. He stood here and listened. The room below seemed empty. He descended, requesting the ladies to wait a few moments. On reaching the room, he perceived that it was closed. The door had not been opened.

Ashby was not there, of course, as "His Majesty" knew; but "His Majesty" was not a little surprised at seeing Dolores. There was no chance for her to hide, so she stood looking at him. But her face was pale, and sad, and frightened.

Before a word could be said, Mrs. Russell scrambled down, and came clinging to "His Majesty." Katie followed, and, in great amazement, saw Dolores. She at once ran up to her, put her arms around her, and kissed her.

"I might accuse this senorita of high-traison," said "His Majesty," "but what's the use?"

"Oh, sire, spare her!" said Mrs. Russell. "Remember that mercy is majesty's darling attribute."

"Bedad it is," said "His Majesty." "Who iver says it isn't? And you, senorita," said "His Majesty" to Dolores, in Spanish—"you seem to know the secret ways here."

"Yes."

"Why did you come here?"

"I fled here."

"His Majesty" smiled.

"Oh, I understand; but don't fear me. I wouldn't harm you—though this does look like treason. Still, answer me frankly, do you know any other secret passages?"

"I know them all."

"Will you help me to escape?"

Dolores hesitated.

"You need not hesitate; if you don't help me I'll kill you. No, I won't kill you—I'll kill Ashby. He's in the hands of six of my guards. I've only to give the word, and he'll be shot. Quick, now—what do you say?"

"Will you let me go free?" asked Dolores.

"Well," said "His Majesty," "under the circumstances, I think I will consent to let you go free. Oh yes; only show me the way out, and you may do as you choose."

"Then I will show you," said Dolores. "But, first, will you tell me in what room Senor Ashby is confined?"

"No," said "His Majesty;" "get me out first, and then I will let you know all you wish."

"Very well," said Dolores.

She led the way up into the passage which they had left. Mrs. Russell followed close upon "His Majesty's" heels. As for Katie, she did not move.

Follow? Why should she? It was quiet here, and the immediate fear of the armed men no longer impelled her away. Should she leave the castle? Not she. The castle seemed to be captured by some enemy. This enemy must be the soldiers of the government. In that case she ought by all means to stay. Besides, she knew that Harry was still here, and to escape without him was not to be thought of.

The consequence was that Katie remained behind. It was very dark; but that made no difference, as she had grown accustomed to the darkness since she had come here. True, the moonbeams glimmered through the narrow windows, but the greater part of the room was sunk in gloom. She thought for a moment of trying to persuade her "Auntie" to remain; but the next instant she reflected upon the infatuation of "Auntie" about "His Majesty," and concluded that it would be useless to say a word. And therefore "Auntie" went off, leaving Katie alone, seeking the crown of Spain, and the throne, and sceptre, and power, might, dominion, pomp, splendor, and majesty—will-o'-the-wisps all of them, my beloved readers, in search of which I'm afraid poor "Auntie" will come to grief.

Dolores led the way, followed thus by "His Majesty" and "Auntie." At the top they came to the stone door-way, which was still open. This Dolores closed carefully.

Then she pressed against a stone which was on the opposite side of the chamber. It yielded, and opened in just like the other. Passing through, they all found themselves in a chamber like the last, only it ran in a different direction. Here Dolores closed this door as carefully as before.

From this chamber another passage-way led. It is not necessary to detail here the way by which Dolores led them. Suffice it to say that it was long, tortuous, and constantly descending by means of many steps. Several stone doors had to be opened.

To one less familiar than Dolores, all passage through would have been impossible, and "His Majesty" came to the conclusion that he could never find his way back, if ever he wanted to come. He said as much to Dolores.

"It's easy to learn," said she. "The plan on which it is arranged is so simple that a child can understand it when once it is explained; but you never could find it out for yourself."

"Very likely," said "His Majesty." "It's the way with most riddles."

They continued on, until at last they came to a place at which Dolores, after pushing the rock, stood and listened. There was a sound, outside, of rushing water.

Then, pushing at the rock again, it opened. The torch-light shining out disclosed a cavern, at the mouth of which this passage-way thus opened. A brook bubbled along in front. Opposite was a precipice. Above was the sky, where the moon shone. They were at the bottom of the deep chasm.



CHAPTER XXXIX.

HOW LOPEZ AGAIN MEETS WITH KATIE, AND HOW KATIE SHOWS NO JOY AT HER DELIVERANCE.

Katie remained, as has been stated, in the lower room, which had been Ashby's place of imprisonment. She was not long left alone: soon she heard the noise of footsteps. There was nothing in this sound to alarm her, however, and so she waited quite calmly, thinking that the new-comer might be more friendly than the last, and that this new turn of affairs might improve her position. The door opened, and a man entered in the dress of an officer, while behind him there were visible soldiers in the uniform of the Spanish army. These men carried torches.

The first comer, also had a torch, which he held high above his head as he stared about and peered through the gloom. At length he caught sight of Katie, and, with a cry of joy, advanced straight toward her. It was not until he had come close to her that Katie was able to recognize Lopez.

"Why, Captain Lopez!" she said, in excellent Spanish; for her Spanish connections, and life in Spain, had made her as familiar as a native with that language. "I never was so amazed in my life. I never heard that you were here; why haven't I seen you before?"

Lopez paused for a moment in surprise at Katie's words, and still more at her manner.

"I've only arrived this instant," said he, "and I've come here to save you from these brigands, and congratulate you and myself on my good-fortune in finding you. The other ladies I cannot find. I hope, senorita, that you have not suffered much while here a prisoner in the hands of these ruffians?"

"Oh no," said Katie.

"This room is not fit for you," continued Lopez, "and you shall at once be removed to a more comfortable apartment."

Such a proposal as this was by no means agreeable to Katie, who liked the idea of the secret passage, and did not wish to go out of reach of it.

"Oh, do not take me away from here!" said she. "I assure you I prefer this room to any other. In fact, I am quite attached to it."

Lopez laughed.

"Really," said he, "I had no idea that a prisoner could become attached to such a gloomy dungeon as this. Ah, senorita, you are jesting. I assure you, however, that there are better rooms than this in the castle, and in a few minutes you shall be taken to one. You shall also be provided with proper attendants; for there are women about the castle who can wait on you."

Lopez was so earnest and determined that Katie saw plainly the uselessness of any further objections, and therefore murmured a few civil words of thanks.

Lopez looked profoundly disappointed. He had come in the glory of a conqueror—more, of a deliverer; to free Katie from the grasp of a remorseless tyrant; to break in pieces her chains; to snatch her from the jaws of death. He had expected to see her on the verge of despair; he had fully counted on being received by her in wild and eager excitement, almost like a messenger from Heaven. It was upon all this that he had counted, as he had toiled to effect her rescue. His task had been by no means light. Fortune had favored him, or else his toil would all have been unavailing. His rescue of her in so short a time was therefore very near the miraculous. And now as he came to her, after all his efforts, after all this brilliant success, with these hopes and expectations, he found his arrival greeted in the coolest manner, and treated as the most commonplace thing in the world. More than this, instead of finding Katie languishing in her dungeon, he found her actually unwilling to leave it, and pretending that she had an "attachment for it." Of course, all this was pretence and affectation, yet still there was something underneath which Lopez could not quite comprehend. For the present he could only conceal his deep disappointment and vexation as best he might, and arrange his plans for the future.

After retiring for a few minutes, he came back with a woman. This was one of the women who had been captured, and was now allowed to remain on condition of service, the particular service required of her being merely attendance upon Katie.

Lopez here had a fresh disappointment. He had seen Katie's solitary state, and thought that by bringing her an attendant he would give her pleasure. But to Katie the presence of any attendant was exceedingly distasteful. It was like having a spy set over her. It was bad enough to be taken away from within reach of those secret passages, but to be afflicted with this attendant and spy was too much.

Lopez noticed her slight frown and her downcast look. He was surprised once more, and more disappointed than ever.

"And now, senorita," said Lopez, "if you are quite ready, I will show you the way to the new room, where you may stay so long as you remain here."

"Very well, senor captain," said Katie, quietly.

"If you have any luggage, it shall be sent up to-morrow."

"Thanks, senor."

Upon this Captain Lopez went out with the torch, and Katie, with her attendant, followed. She noticed, as she went, that there were marks of great confusion in the castle; some men were bound, others lying wounded, with women weeping over them; others again, in the Spanish uniform, were lolling about, drinking and carousing.

Katie followed Lopez up-stairs, and here in the upper hall there were the same signs as below, though the crowd of men was not so great nor so noisy. Passing through this, they came to a third stairway, which ran up from one side of this upper hall and led into a passage-way higher still. Here Lopez opened a door, and, on entering, Katie saw a room which was smaller than those below. One or two mats were on the stone floor. There was a couch at one end covered with skins, and at the other a large chest. The room bore marks of having been recently occupied, and Katie thought that perhaps the occupant had been "His Majesty."

The windows here, of which there were several, were narrow slits like those below; and a hasty glance showed Katie that they looked down into the court-yard. This, however, gave her no consolation. It was a matter of indifference now where she was. Having been taken away from the neighborhood of those friendly passageways, all other places seemed equally objectionable. Her discontent and dejection were evident in her face, though she made no remark.

"I am sorry," said Lopez, "deeply sorry that I have nothing better than this room to offer; but I hope that before long we shall be able to leave the castle."

Katie did not hope so, and, in fact, did not know whether to hope so or not. All would depend upon circumstances. And as she did not know how circumstances were, and was not willing to ask, she did not know what to say now; so she simply said the very non-committal words,

"Thanks, senor."

Lopez could tell pretty well why she said no more than this. It was because she felt dissatisfied about something in connection with her rescue—but what that something was he could not conjecture. That was the mystery which baffled him. However, he had sense enough to see that his own best course was to leave her to her own devices, and not annoy her by ill-timed questions. So he prepared to depart.

"Senorita," said he, "this woman is your attendant. If you are afraid to be alone, she will sleep in the room with you; but, if you prefer it, she will not."

"Oh, I should so very much prefer being left alone, Captain Lopez!" said Katie, hurriedly.

Lopez looked surprised.

"Oh, very well," said he; "but I thought you were so timid that you would prefer having some one."

"Oh no—thanks! I'm not at all timid," said Katie.

This was a new surprise to Lopez, who had believed Katie to be the most timid young lady living. But he said nothing more. He merely wished her good-night; and, having directed the attendant to leave, he locked the door after him and went away, a deeply disappointed and a deeply meditating man.

Katie sprang to the door, held her ear close, and listened till the footsteps had died away. Then she hurried back. Her quick eye had noticed the fragment of a wax-candle on the floor, in a corner. Some matches were lying loosely about, which had evidently been used by "His Majesty" to light the royal pipe. With one of these Katie lighted the candle, and surveyed the apartment once more.

There was a fireplace here, deep, but not so high or large as the others before mentioned. This Katie examined first. Alas! she saw nothing. The chimney ran straight up, and not an opening appeared.

After this she retreated dejectedly, and examined no farther.



CHAPTER XL.

IN WHICH THERE SEEMS SOME CHANCE OF A TRIANGULAR DUEL.

Harry and Ashby, transformed from bosom friends to mortal enemies, now occupied the same room, but with an armed guard to prevent further intercourse. Such intercourse was, however, more effectually prevented by something far more powerful than any armed guard—namely, by mutual hate, and by the consciousness that their hostile meeting, though interrupted, had not been terminated. It had only been deferred; and yet again, at some future time, they must meet and settle this quarrel. Even this prospect, however, important though it was, did not by any means form the most important part of their thoughts as they stood thus apart absorbed in themselves.

Each one turned his thoughts rather to the events which had last occupied him before they had encountered one another; and so, while Harry wandered in fancy back to Katie's room, Ashby was taken up with tender reminiscences of Dolores.

In the midst of such sentimental meditations, they were startled by the sudden outburst of that loud alarm and wild tumult already mentioned. In an instant they both were roused out of their abstraction, and brought back to the stern realities of life. The guard, too, were roused, and, springing to their feet, they stood waiting for orders. But after a few minutes the uproar became so tremendous that the position of the guards grew unendurable, and they went to the door and tried to open it. This they could not do, for it was fastened on the outside, so that departure from the room by that way was not possible; yet the sounds which came to their ears were sufficient to inform them of the whole truth, and tell them that the castle had been surprised by an attacking party, which was evidently victorious.

The longer they listened the plainer did this become, and from this there arose the inevitable conclusion that they—that is, the Carlist guard—were prisoners. Upon this, restiveness and uneasiness began to be visible among them, and a dread of their coming doom from the hands of merciless enemies quite demoralized them. They exchanged looks of terror; they looked wildly around to see if there were any chances of escape; but to their eyes the stone walls, the stone floor, the narrow windows, and the vaulted roof offered not a chance of escape, or even of a partial concealment.

As for Harry and Ashby, they passed in one instant from depths of despair to the highest hope. They recognized the shouts and the watchword of the Republic, and felt that in the hands of the soldiers of the government they would be safe.

Suddenly the door was opened. Outside were armed men with blazing torches, from among whom there advanced into the room an officer.

The Carlists were immediately disarmed, and their arms taken outside. But the officer took no notice of them. His eyes, searching on every side, soon perceived Harry and Ashby, who had drawn near.

"Senor captain," said Harry, "I rejoice that you have come to save us from captivity and death. We have been here as prisoners for two or three days, and an immense ransom was exacted from us, which we could not pay. Had you not come, we should undoubtedly have been shot."

Ashby said not a word. He had recognized Lopez at a glance, and dreaded the worst from this vengeful enemy.

Lopez kept his eyes fixed on Ashby as he spoke, though he addressed Harry.

"Senors," said he, "I am glad that I have come in time to avert so horrible a crime. You, senor," he continued, addressing Harry, "may retire: you are free. You will be respected and protected by my followers, and may either go, or remain till our return to Vittoria. As for Senor Ashby, I wish to have a brief conversation with him."

At this Harry bowed, and with some further expression of gratitude went out of the room a free man, his heart swelling with exultation and joy and hope.

"Senor Ashby," said Lopez, "we have met again."

Ashby bowed.

"Senor Ashby," continued Lopez, "insults have been given and received on both sides, and we are already under engagements to have a hostile meeting. Is it not so?"

Ashby bowed again.

Lopez had spoken these words in a low tone, which was inaudible to his men. He now turned and ordered them to withdraw, and stand outside until further orders.

They obeyed.

"Senor Ashby," he continued, "the lady is here for whom we both are seeking. It was about her that our quarrel arose."

"I am ready now," said Ashby.

"For the quarrel?" said Lopez. "Ay—but I am not;" and he gave a bitter laugh.

"A man of honor," said Ashby, scornfully, "will always be ready."

Lopez again gave a bitter laugh.

"Dear senor," said he, "I have had too many affairs to be afraid of risking my reputation as a man of honor by postponing our little meeting. I have other things to attend to first. And first I must have a little leisure to get rid of that bitterness and gall which you, senor, with your English superciliousness, have poured into my heart. For a time you had your hour of triumph, and I was made to feel by you all the insolent superiority of a man of wealth over a man of the people. But now, senor, our positions have changed. I have the power, and you are nothing. Even your wealth will not save you; for while you are my prisoner all the gold of Mexico will be unavailing to deliver you until I choose."

Ashby had now a sudden thought that his position was very peculiar and very unenviable. He had just quarrelled with his best friend, and had just been saved from murdering him, for the sake of a girl whom he had ceased to love (or whom he believed he had ceased to love, which was the same thing just then); and now here was another of Katie's numerous lovers, full of love and jealousy—the one as strong as death, the other as cruel as the grave; which lover was evidently now regarding him as a tiger regards his helpless victim, and was playing with him for a time, so as to enjoy his torments before devouring him. These thoughts passed through his mind, and he had nothing to say.

"Senor," said Lopez, "our quarrel was about that young lady, and our meeting may take place at any time. For the present, I have to say that if you will consent to give up all claim to her hand and leave the castle, I will send you at once with a sufficient guard to any place you name, or to the nearest station. But if not, then I shall be under the painful necessity of detaining you."

"May I ask," said Ashby, "upon what ground you propose to detain me?"

"Certainly," said Lopez. "I arrest you as a spy."

"A spy!"

"Certainly. What are you doing here? You were seized by the Carlists, it is true, but what of that? You may have betrayed your party to them. I find you coming North on no good or reasonable errand. You certainly were following that party—as a spy, or something like it—in your private interests. I am therefore at liberty to arrest you as a spy, perhaps in league with the enemies of Spain. It is a charge of which I can prove you guilty, and for which you will be shot."

"And that is a gentleman's satisfaction!" said Ashby, with a sneer.

"Gentlemen," said Lopez, "obtain satisfaction in many ways. It will give me no small satisfaction, for instance, to know that you are here while I urge my suit for the young lady's hand, for which I have the good wishes and co-operation of her guardian. It will give me no small satisfaction to inform you when, as she surely will, she grants me her consent; and, finally, the highest satisfaction of all will be afforded when I request your presence at our wedding—a compliment which, I am sure, senor, you will appreciate. For, senor, we shall be married here, and immediately, since I have brought a priest with me, so as to put the whole matter beyond the reach of accident."

Having fired off this heavy shot, Lopez watched to see the effect upon his victim.

Ashby showed not the slightest emotion. Neither in face nor in gesture did he evince any agitation whatever; nor in his voice, for he said, in a perfectly cool and indifferent way,

"Very well, senor. I can do nothing against all that."

Lopez felt disappointed. He had expected to see agonies depicted on his helpless victim, and to exult in the sight. But he concluded that this was owing to Ashby's "English phlegm," and that he was thus preserving, like the Indian at the stake, a proudly calm exterior, while really suffering torments of hidden pain.

"Since you are so calm," said Lopez again, "perhaps you will consent to purchase your freedom by formally relinquishing all claim to that young lady's hand. That is the shortest way of regaining your liberty, and it will be quite satisfactory to me."

Lopez spoke this in an ironical tone, taunting Ashby thus on his cool demeanor.

Now, the giving up of all claims to Katie was in itself so far from being repugnant to Ashby, that, as the reader knows, he had already virtually renounced her, and formally, too, by word of mouth to Dolores. But to do this to Lopez was a far different thing. It would, he felt, be base; it would be cowardly; it would be a vile piece of truckling to an enemy, who would exult over it to the end of his days. The idea could not be entertained for a moment.

"Senor." said Ashby, with his usual coolness, "you are well aware that, apart from all other considerations, your proposition could not be entertained for a moment by a man of honor."

"Perhaps not," said Lopez; "but I had to make mention of it, merely as a form, and not supposing that you would entertain it."

"I am in the hands of fortune," said Ashby: "I'll take my chances as they come."

Upon this Lopez said nothing more, but, with a formal adieu, took his departure.

Ashby was left with the six unarmed Carlist prisoners.



CHAPTER XLI.

HOW THE UNHAPPY RUSSELL FINDS THE DANGER OF PLAYING WITH EDGE-TOOLS.

When Lopez, with the assistance of Rita, had burst into the castle, he had left his prisoners in the tower in the charge of a couple of guards, these prisoners being Brooke, Talbot, and Russell. During the attack on the castle there was a time in which Russell might very easily have escaped. The two guards were eager to join the melee, and as their instructions had reference principally to Brooke and Talbot, they paid no attention whatever to the "Hungarian lady." They knew that Rita had done an act for which the captain would reward her, and concluded that the "Hungarian lady" was a friend rather than a prisoner. Under such circumstances escape would have been easy enough to Russell, had he been bold enough to attempt it.

Yet, after all, how could he really escape? To go back over the same road would be only to encounter fresh perils, perhaps worse than any with which he had met hitherto. To go in any other direction would be simple madness. There was, therefore, no other course open to him than to remain where he was.

After a long time some of the men came back, at the command of Lopez, with orders to bring the prisoners into the castle. The guard obeyed and followed, taking with them Brooke and Talbot. Russell was about to accompany them, and was just hesitating as to the path, when suddenly he found himself confronted by Rita, who had just come up.

"H-s-s-s-sh!" she said. "All is safe. I haf my reward. The captain haf pay me. Now we shall go. Alla right. Come!"

Russell felt a strange sinking of heart. As to going away with her, that was not to be thought of, and he only sought now for some plausible excuse.

"I—I'm too tired," he said; "I'm worn out, Rita. I cannot walk."

"Bah!" said she. "Come—you shall not go far: I take you to where you shall restar."

"But I'm tired," said Russell. "I want to rest here."

"Bah! you not too tired to go one two mile; that not mooch to go. Come!"

"I can't," whined Russell.

"But you will be captar—you shall be a preesonaire—you shall be deescovaire—alla found out by the capitan; so come—fly, you haf no time to lose."

"I can't help it," said Russell, in despair. "If I'm caught again I don't care. I'm worn out."

"But you moos!"

"I can't!"

"Come—I shall carry you; I shall lifta you, and carry you to your safetydom.

Come!"

"It's impossible," said Russell, who, in addition to his fear, began to feel vexation at this woman's pertinacity.

There was something in his tone which made Rita pause. She stood erect, folded her arms, and looked at him. The moonlight fell on both. Each could see the other.

Russell did not feel pleased with her appearance. She looked too hard—too austere. She seemed to have an unlimited possibility of daring and of vengeance. He began to think that he had been playing with edge-tools, and that in trying to make use of Rita he had only gained a new master for himself. The vague fears which had been gathering through the day now grew stronger, and he realized his full danger.

"You not want to fly? You not want to 'scape?" said Rita, with a frown.

Russell thought it best to own up.

"Well, n-n-no," said he. "On the whole, I do not."

"Why?" asked Rita, in a hard voice.

"Oh—well—I've—I've—I've changed my mind," said Russell, in a trembling voice.

He began to be more afraid of Rita than ever.

"Ah!" said Rita. "It is so—very well. Now leest'n to me; look at me. What haf I done? I haf betray my maestro—I haf betray my friends: this castle is took; my friends are run away, many of them dead; their bodies are over there—they are dead. Who kill them? I—I the traidor! I the Judas! I betray! And why? I betray—because you tempt me! Do you know that? You tempt me! You ask me to helpa you! you promise me all the world! I helpa you! I make mysef a traidor, and now it haf come to this!

"Where are my friends?" continued Rita. "Gone! fled! dead! They sall haunt me—their ghosts—they sall call for venganza; and I haf make mysef a traidor to the friends that lofe me an' was kind! See me, what I am! You haf make me to this—you! you! you! What! do you think I sall let you turn false to me? No! nevaire! You sall be true to me—what—evaire! You haf promis to gif me all the world. You haf promis to gif me youselfa. You sall be what you say—'my man!' I sall haf the recompensa, if I die from remordimiento. If you be a traidor to me, I sall haf the venganza!"

During this wild harangue Rita seemed transported to fury—she seemed a madwoman. Russell trembled in every limb from sheer terror. He never had in all his life seen anything like this. His only hope now was to escape from her insane rage, no matter under whose protection.

At length she stopped and grew calmer. Then she said, in a low, stern voice:

"Now—will you come? Will you fly?"

Russell shuddered more than ever. Fly? Not he! She might tear him to pieces, but he would never fly with her. Fly? Why, it was impossible! He might, indeed, fly from her; but as to flying with her, that could not be thought of.

He shrunk back, trembling in every limb.

"I can't," he said—"I can't; I'm too weak—I'm old—and weak and worn out.

"But I say," continued Rita, impatiently, "that I sall take you to a place where you sall restar."

"I can't," said Russell.

"Do you intendar to keep you promeese?"

"What promise?" said Russell, hesitatingly.

"To marry me," said Rita, coldly.

"Marry you! I never said that," replied Russell.

"You did."

"I did not. I have a wife living—you know that surely. She is in the castle."

"She? Bah! She is dead. I know that," said Rita, triumphantly.

Russell shuddered more than ever. Dead! dead! he thought. What a thought of horror! And how? Was it this woman that did the deed—this fiend from the robbers' hold—to make room for herself? Russell felt that she was capable of any enormity, and his soul sickened at the thought. He groaned, and was silent.

"Dead, I tell you! dead! She is dead! Aha! you think me fool, simple, aha! But I know, I know to take car' of the number one! Aha! how you like that, meestaire?

"And now leest'n," continued Rita. "You not fly? Very well. You sall come to the castle. You sall stay with the capitan. You sall tell him all—I tell him all. He sall judge and decidar. Come! come! You sall not stay here. You sall go and restar you old bone."

Rita motioned to him sternly to follow, and Russell obeyed. He was not at all disinclined to move in this direction, since it led him to the friendly protection of the castle. It was with uncommon vigor and nimbleness that he followed his tormentor down the steep side, and across the brook at the bottom, and up the other side. Rita noticed this, and said, scornfully:

"You too weak to go one two mile on the level groun', but you strong enough to descendar and ascendar these cliff. But wait, ola man—remember if you falsami I sall haf my venganza. Now you go and spik to the capitan, and you see what he sall do for you."

Rita said no more, but led Russell along until they reached the castle. There Russell seated himself on the stone floor among the soldiers, feeling safer here than anywhere, while Rita went away. Russell supposed that she had gone in search of Lopez to tell her own story first.

He was right. Lopez had been very busy, but Rita was able, after all, to obtain a hearing from him sufficiently long to enable her to plead her cause in her own way.

She told Lopez all.

Now Lopez was under great obligations to Rita, and was willing to do almost anything for her. At the same time, he was the bitter enemy of Russell. Here there was an opportunity open to him to evince gratitude and to obtain vengeance. He appreciated the situation most fully. He promised Rita that he would do whatever she wished.

"I only wish one thing," said Rita: "make him keep his promise."

"I will," said Lopez.

"Will you make him marry me?"

"I will," said Lopez. "I have a priest here. I have brought him here, for I expect to be married myself to a lady whom I have long loved in vain. I have rescued her from these foul brigands, and she will not now refuse me. And I promise, Rita, that you shall be married to your dear one at the same time that I am married to mine, and by the same priest."

Upon this Rita was voluble in the expression of her gratitude.

Lopez now went to seek out Russell. He found the good man wearied and worn out. He led him away to a room that happened to be the very one in which he was confined before. Brooke and Talbot were both here. Russell entreated Brooke to intercede for him with Lopez. Lopez saw the action and understood it.

"What does he want?" said Lopez.

Russell then explained, through Brooke, what Lopez had already learned through Rita, namely, that he was Mr. Russell, and that Rita was claiming his fulfilment of a promise which he had never made, and could never fulfil—first, on the ground that Rita had not freed him; and, secondly, on the more important ground that he was already married.

To all this the answer of Lopez was brief and stern.

"She did free you," said he, "for you are now out of the power of the Carlists, and may be your own master on the performance of your promise. Moreover, as to your being married already, Rita assures me that your former wife is dead."

At this Russell groaned.

"She is not dead," he said.

"Oh, well," said Lopez, "I don't care. Rita is willing to run the risk."

Russell now pleaded for Katie's sake.

But this roused Lopez to worse anger.

"If you were merely a cruel father," said he, "I would forgive you for her sake; but you are a guardian, and not over-honest, as I believe. She has no love for you. She never wishes to see you again. Nor do I. You are nothing to her. She is nothing to you. You have made your bed, and must lie on it. You must blame yourself, and not me."

With these words Lopez retired, leaving the unhappy Russell in a condition that may be better imagined than described.



CHAPTER XLII.

IN WHICH DOLORES REAPPEARS IN THE ACT OF MAKING A RECONNOITRE.

Harry had already been set free, but Ashby was held as a prisoner. At first he remained in the room where Lopez had found him, along with the Carlist guard, but after a few hours he was removed to another chamber. This was chiefly to prevent any possible attempt at escape which Ashby might make with the assistance of the other prisoners, who, knowing the weak points of the castle, might be able, with a bold leader, to strike an effective blow for liberty.

The moonbeams now were streaming in upon the stone floor where the six Carlist prisoners were lying. They were sound asleep, and their deep breathing was the only sound that might be heard. Two of them were in the bed, the other four were on the floor. But these men were used to roughing it, and on the flinty pavement they slept as soundly as on a bed of down.

Suddenly, in the neighborhood of the chimney, there was a slight noise.

No one in the room heard it, for they were all sleeping too soundly.

The noise ceased for a time; then it was renewed. It was a rustling, sliding sound, as of some living thing moving there.

After this the noise ceased.

There was another long pause.

Then came a whisper—

"Assebi!"

No one heard. The sleepers were all far away in the land of dreams.

The whisper was repeated:

"Assebi!"

There was no answer. Nor did any of the sleepers awake. Out of such a sound sleep nothing could awaken them that was of the nature of a mere whisper.

Of course this moving body was our friend Dolores. There is no need to make a mystery of it. She alone now had access to this room; she alone would come here. She alone, having come here, would utter that one word,

"Assebi!"

It was Dolores.

She bad come back to this room to seek after Ashby, to see him; if not, then to hear of him, and, if possible, to help him.

After assisting "His Majesty" to effect his royal escape, Dolores had thought for a few moments of surrendering herself. After further thought, however, she had concluded not to. She saw that nothing could be gained, and much might be risked by such an act. The knowledge which she had of all the interior of the castle gave her an immense advantage so long as she was free; and until she saw how things were it would be better for her to remain free. There would be great danger in confiding too readily. She knew that the Republicans were no better than the Carlists, and perhaps these were merely a rival band of the same ferocious marauders. Ashby, being a foreigner, was perhaps in as great danger as ever; and if so, she should preserve her freedom, so as to be able to help him.

This was a very sensible decision; but as Dolores was a very sensible girl, and a very brave one too, it was only natural that she should have decided in this way.

After waiting until the noise in the castle had ceased, Dolores approached the room and reached the place of descent. Here she waited and listened.

She heard the deep breathing of the sleepers. By this she knew that several men were now in the room.

But was Ashby there?

She could not tell.

That he was not asleep she felt sure. He would be expecting her, at any rate; and that would serve to keep him awake.

She determined to try still further. So she began, as cautiously as possible, to make the descent. She succeeded in doing this without awaking any of the sleepers. For a while she stood in the deep, impenetrable shadow and surveyed the apartment. She saw, where the moonbeams fell, the outline of figures on the floor and on the bed. The remoter parts of the chamber were hid in gloom.

Then she called, in a low and penetrating whisper,

"Assebi!"

There was no answer.

Dolores now felt sure that Ashby was not there; but in order to make assurance doubly sure, she repeated the call.

There was still no answer; and now Dolores felt certain that he had been taken away.

Once more she determined to satisfy herself as to the people who were in the room. It was a hazardous thing to do, but it had to be done. She must see. She had matches in her pocket. She resolved to throw a little light on the subject.

She struck a match. The flame burst forth. Holding it above her head, Dolores peered into the room. The flame illumined the whole apartment. A second or two was enough to show her the whole. There were six men. They were Carlists. They were prisoners. Ashby had been taken away.

So much was plain enough.

Ashby was not there. He had been removed—but how? That was the question, and a most important one. Was he free, or was he still a prisoner? This must be ascertained before Dolores could decide anything. It was not a question to be decided by mere conjecture. It was certainly possible that the captors of the castle, finding these prisoners held captive by the Carlists, had released them all; and if so, it was all very well; but Dolores knew the suspicious nature of her countrymen, and felt very much inclined to doubt whether they had set the prisoners free upon the spot. They were foreigners, and she knew that Spaniards of every party would consider that a sufficient excuse for detaining them.

The only way in which she could satisfy her curiosity and decide upon her own future course was by communicating with these Carlist prisoners, and learning the truth from them.

But how?

They were sleeping so soundly that something louder far than any ordinary cry would be needed to reach their ears. To call to them would, therefore, be useless. Some other way would have to be adopted. But in what way? That was the question that Dolores had now to answer. There was only one way. A risk must be run. It could not be helped. She would have to rouse them, and the most effective way, as well as the one most inaudible to those without, would be to venture into the room and rouse them in some way by touch.

A rapid view of all the risks of the case made her resolve to encounter them. She felt able to awake the sleepers without being discovered, and quickly made up her mind.

Gliding swiftly and noiselessly to the nearest sleeper, Dolores caught his hair, and giving it a sudden, violent pull, she darted back as quickly, before she could be discovered.

It was effectual.

The sleeper started up with a violent oath, and began abusing his comrade. This one also awaked, and a fierce altercation went on between them, wherein the one charged the other with pulling his hair, and the other denied it with oaths. In the midst of this Dolores had ascended into the passage-way, and stood there waiting for a chance to be heard. At length the noise subsided, and the two began to settle themselves for sleep, when Dolores, seizing the opportunity, called out, in a low but clear and distinct voice,

"Viva el Rey!"

The Carlists heard it.

"What's that?" cried one.

"Some one's in the room," cried the other.

"Viva el Rey!" said Dolores once more, in the same tone.

At this the two men started to their feet.

"Who goes there?" said one, in a low voice.

"A friend," said Dolores.

"Where?" asked the man, in surprise.

"Come to the chimney," said Dolores.

The two men went there, till they reached the fireplace.

"Where are you?" asked they.

Dolores did not think it necessary to tell them the truth just yet.

"I'm in the room above," said she. "I'm speaking through an opening in the flue. I can help you, if you will be cautious and patient."

"Who are you?"

"A prisoner. I know the way out. I can help you. Be cautious. Is the English prisoner with you?"

"No," said the Carlist, wondering what sort of a prisoner this could be, and why this prisoner asked after the Englishman.

Dolores questioned them further, and the men told all they knew. They had overheard the words that had passed between Ashby and Lopez, and told what they had heard.

From these Dolores gained new light upon the facts of the case. Having been a witness to the scene in the station at Madrid, she at once perceived that this enemy of Ashby's could be no other than that man in civilian dress, but of military aspect, with whom he had had the quarrel, who had been forced to leave the carriage of the Russells. This man had travelled in the same train. He had been captured, plundered, and then set free with the other Spaniards. Dolores conjectured that he had obtained somc soldiers, surprised the castle, and freed Katie. She also felt that Ashby was now a prisoner once more, in the hands not of a mere robber, but of his bitterest enemy.

Thus the whole truth flashed upon her mind.

But where was Ashby?

That she could not tell as yet. She could only hope, and make plans.

"Can we come up to you?" asked the Carlists.

"No," said Dolores. "Besides, there's no escape here. I can come to you, and I will do so before long. Do not sleep too soundly. Do not wake the others. Be ready to act when I come."

The men readily promised this.

"But why can't we go now? why can't you help us now?" they asked.

"We can't go away from this," said Dolores, "without the English prisoner. But with him we shall surely escape; so be ready to act when I give the word."



CHAPTER XLIII.

HOW KATIE FEELS DEJECTED, AND HOW LOPEZ FEELS DISAPPOINTED.

There is no need to enlarge upon Katie's feelings, as she sat in her lonely chamber, buried in thoughts which were both sweet and painful. We all know perfectly well what they must have been, for we all understand about that sort of thing. We've dreamed love's young dream, you and I, haven't we? and so we'll let this pass. As for Katie, I'm afraid she must, in her short experience, from all appearances, have dreamed a great many of love's young dreams; but never among all her dreams or waking thoughts had she known a sadder or more sorrowful hour than the present. Even her soul—volatile, buoyant, and lively—found it impossible for a time to rally. She sat with clasped hands and bowed head, looking care-worn, dejected, and utterly miserable; and it was in this state of mind that Lopez found her on the following morning.

He felt again disappointed (in fact, Lopez was apparently always feeling disappointed), though why he should feel so is somewhat singular, since Katie would have been more than human, or less, if she had shown a joyous face in such a situation.

Lopez gave a sigh by way of salutation. Katie did not look up, but knew perfectly well who it was and what he wanted.

"I hope you have found this room more comfortable than the last," he began at length, after the usual salutation.

"I'm sure I don't see what comfort one can expect in such a place as this," was the reply.

"I'm sorry that I haven't anything better to offer," said Lopez; "anything that is in my power to grant I will do for you."

"Those are merely idle words," said Katie. "There is one thing, and one only, that I wish, and that you can give: that one thing you have no right to keep from me, and yet it is useless to ask you for it."

"Useless—oh, do not say that! Tell me what it is."

"My freedom," said Katie, earnestly.

"Freedom!" said Lopez; "why, you are free—free as a bird!"

"Yes, as a bird in a cage," was the bitter reply.

"Ladies must always be under some restraint," said Lopez: "otherwise you are perfectly free."

"This, sir," said Katie, hotly, "I consider insult; it is nothing less than mockery at my distress. Is it freedom to be locked up in a cell and cut off from all my friends?"

Lopez gave a gasp. He was anxious to please Katie, yet this was a bad, a very bad beginning.

"Why," said he, "where can you go?"

"You will not even let me go about the castle," said Katie. "If you barred your gates, and let me move about inside, even then it would be imprisonment; but you lock me in this cell, and then you come to mock me."

"Great Heaven!" said Lopez. "Oh, senorita! won't you understand? Let me explain. This castle is full of rough, rude men. It would not be safe for you to move about. They are not trained servants; they are brutal and fierce. If you went among them you would be exposed to insult."

"My attendant comes and goes," said Katie; "she is not insulted. Why may I not be at least as free as she is?"

"Because," said Lopez, "you are a lady; she is only a common woman. Things would be insults to you which she only laughs at. I cannot allow you to expose yourself to the brutal ribaldry of the ruffians below. If a father had his daughter here, he would lock her up, as I do you, out of affection."

At this Katie turned her head away, with the air of one who was utterly incredulous, and felt the uselessness of argument.

Lopez was silent for a few moments. Then he went on.



"Listen," said he, "and see if you have reason to be angry with me. Let me tell you some little of what I have done. But for me, you would still be a prisoner in the hands of a remorseless villain, a common brigand. Listen to me, I entreat you, and then tell me if you are right in blaming me. As soon as I was freed I hurried on to Vittoria, the nearest military station. I had but one idea—the rescue of you from the hands of those villains. At Vittoria, after incredible effort, I succeeded in getting a detachment of men from the commandant. With these I set forth on the following morning, trying to find my way to you. It was an almost impossible task. The country, never thickly inhabited, was literally deserted. I could find no one to ask, and could find no trace of your captors anywhere. I did, however, what I could, and sought everywhere most painfully and perseveringly. At length, just as I was beginning to despair, chance—the merest chance—threw in my way a couple of fugitives. These, fortunately, were able to give me the information I wanted. One of them knew all about this castle, and knew that you were here. With this help I was able to find my way here. And now I was once more favored by the merest chance. Had I tried to capture the place in a regular fashion I should have been driven back, for this castle is impregnable, except to artillery; but my guide knew of a subterranean passage-way, and guided me through this into the court-yard. Once here, I found all the men in a careless condition, and made a rush upon them before they could get their arms. Over and over again I risked my life in the fight that followed, while pressing forward in my eagerness to find you before they could get you off. I found you at last. I was full of joy and triumph at the thought of rescuing you from a loathsome captivity. Judge of my surprise and bitter disappointment when I saw you so indifferent, when you met me so coolly; and, instead of showing gratitude, seemed rather angry at me than otherwise."

Lopez paused here to see the effect of his eloquent speech.

Katie looked up.

"It was not captivity, as you call it," said she; "and if it was, it was not loathsome. That word, senor, is far more applicable to my present condition."

"You don't know," said Lopez. "You can't understand. You must have been under some fatal misapprehension. Is it possible that you were ignorant of the character of your captor—a mere brigand—one who pretends to be a Carlist, merely that he may rob passengers, or capture them and hold them to ransom? Have you been all this time in such ignorance?"

"No, senor; I knew in whose hands I had fallen—he is a man of honor!"

"A man of honor!" cried Lopez, in amazement.

"Senor, you cannot know yet who he is. I must tell you. He is the King of Spain—His Majesty King Charles!"

"Don Carlos!" cried Lopez.

At this information he stood transfixed with amazement. Nothing was more probable than that Don Carlos had been in the castle, though he did not suppose that Don Carlos would rob travellers or hold them to ransom. And then there came upon him the bitter thought of all that he had lost by the escape of this distinguished personage. Had he captured him, he would have been certain of immortal glory—of advancement, of high command, honor, wealth, everything which a grateful government could bestow. And all had slipped out of his hands by the narrowest chance. The thought of that lost glory well-nigh overcame him.

"I didn't see him," he groaned, as he stood clasping his hands in an attitude of despair. "He must have left before I came."

"He left," said Katie, "while you were in the castle."

"Ah!" said Lopez, "how do you know that?"

"Because," said Katie, "I saw him when he left."

"But you were in that room. How could he leave that room?"

"I saw him when he left," said Katie, "that is all. You need not believe me unless you wish, but it is true."

Lopez had to believe her.

"And what is more," said Katie, "you will not remain here long. He will soon be back."

"Pooh!" said Lopez, "he can do nothing. He can't get in here. This castle is impregnable to anything less than an army."

"But you got in."

"But I've guarded that passage so that others cannot," said he.

"Do you think," said she, "that there are no other secret passages than that?"

Katie had drawn a bow at a venture. She knew from the statements of Dolores that there were secret passages all about; but whether there were any others that ran out into the country outside she did not know. Still, she thought she would try the effect of this on Lopez. She was fully satisfied with the result of her experiment.

Lopez started and stared.

"Other secret passages!" he said. "Do you know of any?"

"If I did I would not tell," said Katie.

Lopez was much disturbed. He did not know but that there really were other secret passages. The escape of "His Majesty" seemed to point to this. He determined to institute a thorough search.

"I'll find out every passage in the castle before evening," said he.

Katie smiled. She did not believe that he would find one. Lopez felt nettled at her smile.

"You don't believe I shall find them," said he. "If I don't find them I shall conclude that they are not there."

"A very safe conclusion!" said Katie.

Lopez felt angry. He had come hoping to make an impression on Katie by telling her of his love and devotion. In this he had been miserably disappointed. He had become angry and excited. He was no longer in a fit mood to appeal to her feelings, and he felt it. He therefore concluded that it would be best to retire for the present, and come again after he had grown calmer.



CHAPTER XLIV.

HOW LOPEZ HAS ANOTHER CONVERSATION WITH KATIE, AND FEELS PUZZLED.

It was not much more than an hour afterward when Lopez paid Katie a second visit. By that time he had overcome all his excitement, and had settled upon a plan of action of a different kind. It was of no use, he saw, to appeal to Katie's feelings, and so he thought that he would try the effect of a little pressure of a moral character.

"I hope you will pardon me," said he, "for troubling you again, but it is necessary for us to understand one another, and I think you do not see exactly how I am situated."