HOW TALBOT HAS LIFE AND FREEDOM OFFERED, AND HOW SHE DECLINES THE
OFFER.
Outside, Lopez was seated upon a stone which stood close by the
foundation wall of the mill, and near him were about a dozen of his
followers. The rest of the band were at a distance, and were all
variously occupied. Some were lolling on the grass, smoking; others
were lying down as though trying to sleep; others were squatting on
their haunches in groups, talking and gesticulating; others were
wandering away in different directions.
All this was taken in at a glance by Brooke as he came out, followed
by Talbot, after which he turned and faced Lopez. The latter regarded
him with sharp scrutiny for some time, after which he looked in the
same way at Talbot. The gaze was returned by Talbot calmly, quietly,
and unshrinkingly, without boldness, and yet without shyness. It was
as though she wished to read the true character of this man, so as to
see what hope there might be.
"Your name!" said Lopez to Brooke, in a tone of command.
"Raleigh Brooke," said he.
"Senor Brooke," said Lopez, "you must be aware that the accounts
which you gave of yourself last night were very contradictory. Even
at the best, you are, according to your own statement, a newspaper
correspondent, which in our eyes is the same as a spy. But more than
this, you confess yourself to be an American, which makes it still
worse. And so, senor, you see that you are in an awkward position.
But this is not all. There is something more that I must ask. You
speak of having come on in trains--that were stopped. Were you not on
that train which was stopped by the Carlists?"
"No," said Brooke, firmly, and without a moment's hesitation.
That was false, of course; but Brooke had already identified himself
with Talbot, for her sake, and had told a story to which he was now
forced to adhere. It would have been far better if he had told the
truth at the outset, but it was too late now. So he answered "No."
"One of our men came on by the train in which you say you came,"
continued Lopez, "and has no recollection of you."
"Very possible," said Brooke, coolly; "and I don't suppose I have any
recollection of him. People can't remember all who come and go in
railway trains, even in America, where all the carriages are in one;
but here, where each car is divided into coaches, how can one know
anything about his fellow-passengers?"
"I came in the train that was stopped by the Carlists," said Lopez.
"Did you see me there?" asked Brooke.
"No," said Lopez; "but there was a priest."
"Was that the priest?" asked Brooke, pointing to Talbot.
"No," said Lopez--"not at all. This priest that I refer to had a
beard, and wore spectacles: he was a totally different man from your
friend."
Lopez now paused and reflected for a few moments.
"Come," said he at length, "I'll give you a chance. I'm not cruel; I
hate bloodshed; and I don't care about shooting prisoners even when
they're spies. We all look on you as a spy, but I'll give you a
chance to save yourself. I'll tell you all frankly. It is this:
"I myself came on in that train that was stopped by the Carlists. In
that same train there was a party of English ladies and gentlemen.
All of the passengers, myself included, were robbed; but, mark you,
while the natives were permitted to go away in safety, these
English--ladies, mind you, as well as gentlemen--were detained by the
Carlists. Now, of course, these so-called Carlists are merely brigands,
or else they would not have captured and robbed a party of
inoffensive travellers, and still less would they have detained them
as prisoners. They are brigands, then, and of course they intend to
exact a ransom from their prisoners, and of course if the ransom is
not paid they will shoot every one of them.
"Well, after I had escaped from their clutches I communicated at once
with the military authorities, and reported the capture of these
travellers. They immediately ordered me to take a detachment of men
and set off in pursuit. This is our present errand. You now know all;
and if you are a true man, you will at once not only sympathize with
our present undertaking, but you will lend us all the aid in your
power; you will tell us all you know; you will be as frank with me as
I have been with you, and help us to save these unfortunate ladies
from a fate worse than death."
"Senor Captain," said Brooke, without hesitating for one instant, "I
thank you for your frankness, but it is of no possible value to me. I
have come from a different direction, and cannot be of the slightest
assistance in this matter."
"Oh, very well," said Lopez, coldly. "As I said before, I am
merciful, and hate shooting prisoners in cold blood. But mark this:
if it is necessary I will not hesitate. I will allow you this day to
think over what I have said. And now, what about this priest?"
"He is an English priest," said Brooke, calmly, "and cannot
understand Spanish."
"Very well, you shall act as interpreter. In the first place, his
name and residence?"
"Sydney Talbot," said Brooke, "of London."
"What are you doing in this country?" asked Lopez directly of Talbot.
"I came on a visit to Barcelona," said Talbot in reply, as Brooke
translated the question.
"For what purpose?"
"On a visit to friends?"
"What friends?"
"English people."
"Name?"
"Rivers," said Talbot, calmly, and without a moment's hesitation. All
this was news to Brooke, who had never learned her private history or
the secret of her journey to Spain.
"You do not know the language? You cannot have been long in Spain?"
"No--only a week."
"A very short visit," said Lopez. "Did you come so far only to remain
a week?"
"No," said Talbot, "I expected to stay much longer."
"Why did you not stay?"
"Because I found on my arrival that the family had left Barcelona."
"Where did they go?"
"I have no idea."
"Were they not expecting you?"
"I supposed that they were expecting me, and I am quite unable to
account for their departure and their failure to meet me."
"And so you set out on your return home?"
"Yes."
"Well," said Lopez, "your story is a little absurd, yet not at all
improbable. I dare say there was a mistake somewhere."
"There must have been--yet I don't know."
"Young sir," said Lopez, after a pause, "you carry your character in
your face. You at least are not a spy. Upon that I would stake my
life. I wish I could say as much for your companion. All
Spaniards--at least all Republicans--would not let a priest off so
easily; but you are different, and I could no more suspect you than I
could suspect the apostle St. John. Senor, you are free; you may go
on your way at once."
"Senor, you are free, and may go on your way at once," repeated
Brooke, as a flush of joy passed over his face. "Go, Talbot, go," he
added earnestly; "go at once!"
But Talbot did not move.
"I am deeply grateful, captain," said she, "but I prefer to remain
with my friend."
"Talbot!" cried Brooke.
"Tell him what I say," was Talbot's calm reply.
"You are mad!" groaned Brooke.
"What is all this?" cried Lopez, angrily. "What does the priest say?"
"The priest says that he will not go," replied Brooke--"that he will
stay by me."
"Oh, he does, does he?" said Lopez. "Well, that's all the better for
you. You'll need him, especially if you persist in your obstinacy."
Brooke translated this, and Talbot listened without a word.
Brooke was now ordered back into the mill, and he went, Talbot
following. On reaching the loft, they both were silent for a long
time. Brooke spoke first.
"Oh, Talbot, Talbot!" he cried, in a reproachful voice, "why didn't
you go? You had the chance."
"Go!" exclaimed Talbot. "What! go and leave you?"
"Of course," said Brooke.
"What! when you have risked your life, and are in such danger of
death, for me? Oh, Brooke, Brooke! Is this, then, your opinion of me?
Can you think me capable of such utter baseness?"
"Talbot," said Brooke, "it was to save your life that I left the
tower, and now you will not save yourself."
"Save myself! save my worthless life! I should scorn it if I must
leave you to die. Never! never! Now, may God do so to me, and more
also, if aught but death part thee and me--that is, till we escape
and are out of danger. We must escape together. You shall never lay
down your life for me."
Talbot spoke with the air of one whose resolution was immovable.
Brooke's agitation was intense.
"Talbot," he cried, "you are mad. You don't know these men. They are
remorseless fiends. They will wreak their vengeance on you as well as
on me."
"Let them," said Talbot, firmly.
"I tell you," cried Brooke, in vehement tones, "that I have a duty to
perform and a battle to fight. I have to be constant until death to
my duty; but if you stay by me--if you remain--if you are still in
peril--oh, Talbot! I shall be false to my duty--for your sake."
"No, Brooke," said Talbot, "you will never be false to your duty for
my sake. You will be true, and I will stand by you. You shall never
see me deserting you. If you have any friendship for me, you will be
glad to see your friend by your side in the hour of your trial."
"It's not that--it's not that!" cried Brooke. "Good heavens! you will
not understand. Do you not see that if you remain you will soon be
alone in the world, and then--who will defend you?"
"I understand well what you mean," said Talbot, firmly. "You expect
to die, and do not wish to leave me here alone among these ruffians.
Never fear for me. Heaven will protect me. But you must know this
well, and I say it once for all, I will not leave you. I cannot be
false or dishonorable. I can die. Yes, Brooke, I can die, for I
remember how you told me that I am an English lad. We Talbots have
given up our lives in every generation for what we believe to be the
good cause; and the last of the Talbots can die gladly rather than
desert a friend."
Brooke turned away. A sob burst from him. In vain he tried to
restrain it. Then there followed an exceedingly bitter cry.
"Talbot! Talbot! By heaven, you'll break my heart!"
"Oh, Brooke!" cried Talbot, "be calm--oh, be calm! I say to you, as
you said to me, be calm _for my sake_; for if you lose your
self-control I shall break down utterly."