"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 grat.i.tude.
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 a.s.sures 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 a.s.sistance 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--
"_a.s.sebi_!"
No one heard. The sleepers were all far away in the land of dreams.
The whisper was repeated:
"_a.s.sebi_!"
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,
"_a.s.sebi_!"
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 a.s.sisting "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,
"_a.s.sebi_!"
There was no answer.
Dolores now felt sure that Ashby was not there; but in order to make a.s.surance doubly sure, she repeated the call.