IN WHICH BROOKE AND TALBOT PREPARE TO BID EACH OTHER AN ETERNAL FAREWELL.
On turning away from that eventful meeting with old friends, both Brooke
and Talbot felt very greatly depressed, and neither could say a word. This
feeling was experienced by both to an equal degree; and neither of them
could see any possible way out of this new difficulty that could commend
itself to an honorable mind.
The conversation with Harry had quite overwhelmed Talbot. He had been so
eager to explain, and the explanations had shown such fidelity on his
part, he had seemed so true, and his vindication had been so complete,
that she had not one word to say. For the fact remained plain before her
mind that the cause of his failing to receive her at Barcelona was his
very eagerness to meet her which had sent him flying in all haste to
England. If he had ever been in fault, the fault was one which had arisen
from excess of love. To a generous mind like Talbot's this was a most
distressing thought.
Still, there was another thought which was worse, and that was
this--namely, that Harry could no longer satisfy her. Whether she had ever
really loved him or not she did not now stop to inquire, nor was such an
inquiry worth making. It was only too evident now that Harry had declined
to nothingness, and less than nothingness, in her heart, and that in the
course of the tragical events of the last few days Brooke had grown to be
more than all the world to her.
The feelings and thoughts of Brooke were of the same description. It had
seemed to him that Dolores had been faithful; and as he had all along felt
firmly convinced of her passionate love for himself and unalterable
fidelity, it never entered into his head now to suspect any change in her.
At the same time, he felt that, whether he had ever loved her formerly or
not, he certainly had no feeling of love for her now; for Talbot had
utterly effaced that former image, and all the world would now be as
nothing to him without Talbot.
For some time they devoted themselves to the wounded men, and then, having
finished this task, they retreated to the farthest end of the room. Here
there was a rude bench, upon which they seated themselves, and remained
thus for a long time in utter silence.
"You saw my meeting with--with that--young lady," said Brooke, at last.
"Did you understand who it was? It was--Dolores."
"I know," said Talbot, with a heavy sigh. "And did you observe my meeting
with that gentleman? Did you understand that?"
"What!" cried Brooke, in amazement at the suggestion which was conveyed by
Talbot's words. He had not had leisure to notice or think of any one
except Dolores.
"It was Mr. Rivers," said Talbot.
"The devil!" cried Brooke, with a groan.
At this Talbot very properly said nothing.
"Well," said Brooke, after a long pause, "I didn't know that things could
possibly be more infernally embarrassing or more confoundedly complicated
than they were; but this is certainly a little beyond what I dreamed of.
And--and--"
He turned with a despairing look and took Talbot's hand.
"What, Brooke?"
"Am--am I--to--to--congratulate you--and all that?" he stammered.
"What!" said Talbot, reproachfully.
Brooke was silent.
"Oh, Brooke," said Talbot, "what are we to do?"
"Give it up," said Brooke, in a dismal voice.
"This," continued Talbot, "is worse than when we were prisoners, and dying
by turns for one another."
"I wish," said Brooke, "that I had died when I wanted to."
"And must we now give one another up?" sighed Talbot.
"Don't see what else we can do," said Brooke. "We've got to keep our
confounded promises."
"Which promises, Brooke?"
"I don't know."
"Brooke!"
"What?"
"What ought I to do?"
"I don't know."
"Ought I to keep my promise?"
"Which promise?"
"Why, my promise to--to Mr. Rivers."
"D--n Mr. Rivers!" growled Brooke, turning away.
"That," said Talbot, mildly, "is not an answer to my question."
"But how do I know?" said Brooke, in a voice like a wailing child.
"But how can I? how can I?" cried Talbot. "And when _you_ are here--_you_,
Brooke, who know all my heart! Can I give you up? I cannot! You may give
me up, if you like."
"Why don't you say, if I _can_?" said Brooke.
"Oh--any way," said Talbot, wearily.
There was another silence.
"Marry _him_!" cried Talbot, at last, breaking the silence with vehement
abruptness. "I cannot! I cannot! It would be wicked. I should desecrate
the holy sacrament. I could not utter that vow before the holy altar.
Never! Yet I can't stay here where _he_ is. He will be wishing to see me.
He will be coming soon--he may be coming now. I will not see him. I will
_not_ speak with him again. I will write to him. I will leave this place,
and at once."
"Leave this place!" repeated Brooke. "Where can you go?"
"Why, I'll go home," said Talbot, firmly.
"Home?"
"Yes."
"How can you? You don't know the way."
"I know one place where I can go--to that tower--that sweet tower; it is
not far away; it must be easy to get there. I will go there--there,
Brooke, where I first became acquainted with you; and then--"
Here Talbot paused, and turned away her head.
"But you can't live there," said Brooke, in a harsh voice.
"I can find my way back to the road," said Talbot, in a tremulous
tone--"to the road where I first met you, Brooke; and then--why, then I
shall be no worse off than when you found me and assisted me."
"It's all nonsense," said Brooke; "you can't go alone."
"Yes, I can."
"You'll be taken prisoner."
"I don't care."
"Or, if not, you'll die of starvation."
"Very well," said Talbot, in a calm voice, and looking at Brooke out of
serene eyes, with a face from which all traces of emotion had
departed--"very well; I have already showed that I am not afraid of death;
and death by starvation is not more terrible than death by bullets."
Brooke looked at her for a moment in silence, and then said,
"You are not in earnest?"
"I am in earnest," said Talbot, looking at him fixedly, and speaking in a
resolute tone--"I am in earnest, and I mean to go this very night."
Brooke looked away, drew a long breath, and subsided into silence.
"How can you find the way?" he asked at length, in a gruff voice, and
without looking up.
"I don't know," said Talbot; "I can try again, as I tried before."
Brooke looked up hastily, then looked away, and finally said,
"I think, Talbot, you might ask me to show you the way."
At this Talbot's face flushed, and all her expression was suddenly changed
from one of dull dejection to animation and delight.
"Will you?" she asked, breathlessly.
"Oh yes," said Brooke, "that isn't much to do. Oh yes, I can easily show
you the way to the tower. After all, it is as safe there as here; and if
you are determined to go, why, we can start, you know--at any time, you
know."
"But will you--can you--will you, really?" said Talbot, who seemed quite
overwhelmed at this unexpected offer. "Then you have your human weakness,
after all, have you, Brooke? You will not sacrifice me to a punctilio,
will you? you will not let your poor Talbot go away all alone?"
[Illustration: "They Retreated To A Rude Bench, Upon Which They Seated
Themselves."]
"No," said Brooke, softly, "I will not let my Talbot go away all alone."
Talbot cast a swift glance at him, as if to read his soul. Brooke's eye
met hers, but only for an instant. Then he looked away. Again there was
quick and active within him that old vigilant feeling that kept him on
guard against being surprised and overpowered by passion. Within his heart
there had already been a fierce struggle between love and honor. Love had
once conquered, and that completely; but the appearance of Dolores had
roused his conscience, and made him once more aware of the bond that lay
in his plighted word. Could he again break that word? Could he sacrifice
his honor for good almost in the very presence of her whom he supposed to
be his loving and faithful Dolores? Could he do such a deed as this, and
sully his soul even for Talbot? Yet, on the other hand, how could he bring
himself to give her up? Give her up--the "lad Talbot," whom he loved as he
had never loved any other human being! How could he? And thus love drew
him impetuously in one direction, while duty sternly and imperiously drove
him back; and so there went on in the breast of this newspaper
correspondent a struggle the like of which does not often come within the
experience of gentlemen of the press.
"You will see me as far as the tower?" said Talbot, pathetically.
"Yes," murmured Brooke.
"And there," continued Talbot, in the same tone, "we can say to one
another our last farewells."
Brooke said nothing. The struggle still raged within him, and was as far
from a decisive end as ever. The prospect of parting with Talbot filled
him with a sense of horrible desolation, and the one idea now in his mind
was that of accompanying her wherever she might go. He did not look far
into the future. His plans were bounded by that tower to which Talbot was
going. This much he might do without any hesitation. It seemed to him no
more than Talbot's due. She only wanted to go as far as that. She wished
to be out of the reach of Rivers. She didn't know the way there. He could
certainly help her thus far; in fact, it would be impossible for him not
to do that much. If Dolores herself were present, he thought, she could
not object; in fact, she could do nothing else but approve.
Silence now followed, which lasted for some time, and at length Talbot
said, with a heavy sigh,
"How strange it is, and how sad! isn't it, Brooke?"
"What?" said Brooke.
"To bid good-bye."
Brooke was silent.
"To bid good-bye," repeated Talbot, "and never meet again!"
Brooke drew a long breath, looked at Talbot, and then looked away.
"Shall we, Brooke?" asked Talbot.
"Shall we what?" said Brooke, harshly.
"Shall we ever meet again?"
"How do I know?" said Brooke, snappishly.
"And yet you gave your life for me," said Talbot, pensively.
"I didn't," said Brooke. "It was you that gave your life for me."
"The offer was made," said Talbot, mournfully, "but it wasn't accepted. I
wish now that the offer had been accepted."
Brooke raised his head and looked at her with his pale, haggard face,
whereon was still the impression of that great agony through which he had
so lately passed. He looked at her with all his unspeakable love in his
earnest, yearning gaze.
"Do you really wish that, Talbot?"
"I do," said she, sadly.
"Oh, my darling!" cried Brooke--"my own love, and my only love! What shall
I do? Help me to decide."
He caught her in his arms and held her pressed convulsively to his heart,
while Talbot laid her head on his shoulder and wept.
At length they rose to go.
Brooke was conscious of a sense of profound relief as he went out of the
castle and away from Dolores.
On reaching the gate, Brooke explained to the guard that he and the lady
were going out for a little walk.
The guard suggested that there might be danger.
Brooke said that he was not going far away, and that he would be back. In
this he was not deceiving them, for he himself thought that he would be
coming back again. He had a vague idea of keeping Talbot in the tower, and
conveying her food, etc., from the castle, as he had done once before.
He now passed through the gates, accompanied by Talbot. The course which
he took was the same that he had taken on the occasion of his first visit
to the Carlists in his disguise of priest. After walking for some distance
they descended into the chasm, and at length reached the bottom. By this
time it was dusk, and twilight was coming on rapidly.
They then began the ascent, and reached the tower without any difficulty.
Here they paused to take breath.
But no sooner had they stood still than they were aware of a noise
without. It was a noise rather distant, yet well defined, and sounded as
if a multitude were approaching the place.
"Some one's coming," said Talbot.
"Yes," said Brooke; "we must go back."
They hurried back. But as they stood at the opening they heard something
which once more startled them.
There were voices and footsteps down the chasm, as of some one coming up
the pathway.
"We are pursued!" said Brooke.
"We are captured!" said Talbot; and then she added, as she took Brooke's
hands in hers, "But oh, Brooke, how I should love to be captured, if you
are only captured with me!"
Brooke said nothing, but a thrill of joy passed through him at the
thought.