HOW THE RAILWAY TRAIN COMES TO A SUDDEN STOP.
Very early on the following morning Ashby was up and out. He walked
over the town in all directions, with a strange, furtive watchfulness
in his eyes, as though on the lookout for some one. Who was the
object of his search? Was it Katie, whose answer to his proposal had
not yet been given? Was it Dolores, whom he had tracked on the
previous evening? Or was it his rival Lopez, with whom he had yet to
stand in mortal conflict? Whichever it was did not appear, for Ashby
was doomed to be unsuccessful, and to return to his inn a baffled
man. Barely time enough was now left him to snatch a hasty repast,
after which he hurried to the station.
The place was thronged. Passengers were arriving, and the train was
filling rapidly. Ashby stood, as he had stood on the previous day,
watching. Singularly enough, Lopez also, like himself, was again on
the lookout, for he could see him scowling in the distance. No words,
however, passed between them, and the challenge which Lopez had
threatened was not yet forthcoming. At length the patience of both
was rewarded.
A cab drove up. The broad face of Russell was seen through the
window. The rest of the party were inside. But, to Ashby's amazement,
he saw Harry Rivers riding outside with the driver. As the cab
stopped, Rivers leaped lightly down, and opened the cab door himself.
Then old Russell got out. Then Harry assisted Mrs. Russell to
descend. After this he assisted Katie out of the cab, and Ashby saw
that she looked as fresh, as bright, and as blooming as a rose, that
she showed not a trace of care or anxiety, and that she was as
sprightly and coquettish as ever.
"Confound the fellow!" growled Ashby to himself, as he wondered how
Harry had found them out and made their acquaintance, envying him
also his good luck. But the climax had yet to come. There was one
passenger more. This one also was assisted out of the cab by Harry.
To the utter stupefaction of Ashby, this one was Dolores.
So overwhelmed was Ashby that he stood without motion, having quite
lost all that presence of mind and coolness which usually
distinguished him. It was wonderful enough to find Harry hand in
glove with the Russells, but to find Dolores there along with Katie
was a knock-down blow. It made his situation so confused and full of
complications that he could not think of any course of action. So he
stood, and he stared, and the party came along on their way to the
train. As they approached Katie looked at him with a bright smile,
full of tender meaning, and a flush passed over her face. Dolores, on
the contrary, allowed her dark eyes to rest on him for an instant,
and then looked down. This troubled him, for at that moment it
happened that he was longing for a smile from Dolores. Still, he was
glad to get that look from Katie. The fact is, the fellow was too
ridiculous, for he actually wanted a smile from each of them.
As they passed Harry dropped behind.
"Look here, Ashby," said he; "where in Heaven's name have you hid
yourself all the morning? I thought you wanted to find Miss
Westlotorn."
"So I did," said Ashby, in a rueful tone.
"Why, confound it, man, she was close by us all the time. When I went
out I found your dear friend, old Russell."
"Russell!" cried Ashby; "but how did you get acquainted with him?"
"Acquainted!" cried Harry. "Man alive! By Jove! a man ought to know
his own tailor, oughtn't he? I didn't think of it last night. I
thought your Russell was a different man: the name is common enough,
you know. People generally dodge their tailors, but I'm not proud,
and I don't owe him very much; and, besides, this is Spain, and he
can't dun me. Moreover, he was in a street row, and I helped him out
with my Spanish. What the mischief does he mean by coming with his
family to Burgos with no other language than English? But,
by-the-bye, old fellow, I must hurry: I'm going to join their party
and travel in their carriage. Hope you'll enjoy yourself as well as I
intend to. I would have excused myself, only, you know, when there's
a chance of travelling with a couple of such pretty girls as those,
only a madman would decline."
All this Harry poured forth in a torrent of words, and before Ashby
had a chance of making a remark he was off. Ashby watched him, and
saw him enter the carriage where Katie and Dolores had gone with the
Russells; and then, drawing a long breath, he went slowly to the
train and took his seat. There was only one other occupant of the
carriage where he sat. This was a priest. He wore a broad-brimmed
hat; his eyes were concealed by spectacles: he had also a heavy brown
beard and mustache. So engaged was he in reading his breviary, that
as Ashby entered he did not look up or take any notice of him
whatever.
Lopez, also, had seen the whole proceeding, and had put on it his own
interpretation. As Ashby entered the train so did he, and soon the
whole of these people whose fortunes were so entangled were whirling
along to the North.
Ashby sat buried in gloom, with his heart full of bitterness and
wrath; of envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. He had
hoped to see Katie. He had counted quite confidently on meeting once
more with Dolores. He had felt sure of Harry Rivers. But now all
three had failed him; and, what was worse, all three had drifted away
from him in one another's company, and appeared to be perfectly
indifferent to him, and perfectly happy without him.
The priest was unsociable, and kept reading his breviary as though
his life depended upon it. Yet this made no difference to Ashby. He
did not desire to make any new acquaintances or talk small-talk with
strangers. He preferred to be left to his own thoughts, dismal as
they were. He was in no mood for conversation, for his mind was full
of material for meditation, conjecture, wonder, and bewilderment.
Why, he thought, had Dolores deserted him? How had she become
acquainted with Katie? And Harry--to which of these two was he making
himself so infernally agreeable? Whichever it was, it seemed equally
bad. Ashby felt bitterly resentful against all of them. Katie seemed
to be the worst. She might have contrived, he thought, to give him
some sign. But then he recollected that on the previous evening he
was tracking Dolores, when he ought to have gone on Katie's trail. As
for Dolores, he thought that she might at least have shown herself
when he was wandering through the streets in the morning hours. But
perhaps she expected to find him in the neighborhood of Katie.
Evidently he himself had acted like a fool in leaving the hotel. As
for Harry Rivers, he could not help feeling as though this was the
worst of all. Harry had it now all his own way: a gay, careless,
impulsive dog--a fellow who would forget the whole world while under
the influence of a pair of bright eyes--a fellow who was even now,
perhaps, trying to cut him out. The miserable humbug, also, by a most
abominable chance, had both these girls. Both! Insatiate monster!
would not one suffice?
Thus Ashby chafed, and fumed, and, I am sorry to add, swore terribly;
but all the while the train kept rolling on and on, until at length
the Ebro valley was reached. Here the scenes that opened to view were
most attractive. Far away on either side was a broad plain, dotted
with towns and villages, and filled with olive-groves and vineyards,
where cattle, and sheep, and goats grazed peacefully, and shepherds,
goatherds, and vine-dressers stared lazily up as the train rolled by.
The distant horizon was everywhere terminated by lofty mountains--on
the south, the circling range of the Sierra de Grados; on the north,
the long line of the Pyrenees and the Asturian mountains, their sides
covered with foliage, their summits crowned with snow. It was a
ground, too, which was rich in associations of history and romance,
the arena of gallant struggle and heroic effort for many and many an
age; a place that called up memories of Hannibal, with his conquering
armies; of Rome, with her invincible legions; of Charlemagne, with
his Paladins; of Abd-er-Rahman, with his brilliant Saracens; of the
steel-clad Crusaders; of the martial hosts of Arragon; of the
resistless infantry of Ferdinand and Isabella; of the wars of the
Spanish succession; of the redcoats of Wellington; through all the
ages down to the time of this story, when Don Carlos was standing
among these northern mountains, as Pelajo stood more than a thousand
years ago, leading on his hardy warriors to battle against all the
rest of Spain.
So the train rolled on--past the numerous stations; past the towns
and villages; past the long groves and vineyards; past the barren,
sandy tracts; past the hill-sides, with shepherds, and flocks, and
herds; past the roads, with long trains of mules; past the peasants
lolling over walls and fences--so the train passed on, mile after
mile and hour after hour; but nothing of all this was noticed by
Ashby, who sat buried in his gloomy reverie, from which he was unable
to rally, until at length the train came to a sudden full-stop.
About such a sudden and abrupt stop there was something very singular
indeed. No station was near. The country seemed wild and deserted,
and no cause was likely to stop the train at such a place except some
serious accident.
The priest started up with a quick movement, thrust the breviary into
his pocket, and peered cautiously out of the window, looking first
backward and then forward. It was this movement that first roused
Ashby. He too started up and looked out.
The sight that he saw was so startling that it served most
effectually to chase away all morbid fancies, and give him something
to think about of a far more serious character.