A Castle in Spain Part 43

"Afar away from thee, Thy pale face haunts me yet; Deep yearns my heart for thee, Thy last sad look and word unable to forget."

These words occurred to him, and he murmured them to himself. It was to Dolores that he applied them, and naturally too; for how ridiculously inapplicable to Katie would they be! All else was now forgotten except Dolores. He felt a longing after her that was like homesickness. The past all came back. He recalled her as she had been when he first met her at Valencia. A thousand little incidents in his life there, which had been for a time forgotten, now revived in his memory. He had been for months at their house and had been nursed through a long illness. He had been loaded with kindness and affection. The aged mother had been his nurse during his illness, and Dolores had been his companion during his convalescence. He had left them, expecting soon to return. Circ.u.mstances, however, had arisen which kept him away, and he had forgotten her. Now, however, a stronger feeling had arisen for her, as Dolores had appeared in more than her olden beauty, with the additional charm of a strange, pathetic grace, and a wistful look in her dark eyes that seemed to speak of something more than ordinary friendship. She had spoken of the days at Valencia; she had reproached him for forgetting. She herself had not forgotten those days--the days in which they used to talk and walk and sing together.

As there was nothing to divert his mind from these thoughts, Ashby gave himself up to them, and thus became more helpless against them.

It was in such a mood as this that he lay upon his rude couch, unable to sleep, and wondering what was to be the end of his present adventure. Should he ever see her again? Was she here now, or had they let her go? The thought that she might possibly have been set free, that she might now be far away, was too distressing to be entertained. If so, then his prison seemed doubly dark. If so, then what could he do? Even if he should become free, what was he to do?

Upon one thing he was resolved, and that was to seek after her until he might find her. And Katie? Well, the fact is, Katie was left out of consideration.

Hours had pa.s.sed. Ashby could not sleep. His mind was as active as ever, and still, as ever, his thoughts all gathered about Dolores.

Suddenly, in the very midst of these thick-teeming fancies, his attention was arrested by a strange sound.

It was only a slight rustle, scarce audible, yet still he heard it, and under such circ.u.mstances it seemed most mysterious. In an instant he was all attention. He lay motionless, yet listened with intense watchfulness, peering at the same time into the dark room, where the moonlight struggled through the low, narrow windows.

After a little while he thought that he heard the sound again. He listened, without motion.

Then there came a different sound. It was a low whisper--a whisper which, however, penetrated to his very soul:

"a.s.sebi!"

Was there any other in all the world who would p.r.o.nounce his name in that way? It was the well-known, well-remembered, and dearly loved name as it had been p.r.o.nounced by Dolores in the old days at Valencia. Coming thus to him at such a time, it seemed too good to be true. He was afraid that he had been deceived by his own fancy; he feared to move lest he might dispel this sweet vision. Yet he hoped that he might not be mistaken; and in this hope, scarce expecting an answer, he said, in a gentle whisper,

"Dolores!"

"I am here!" said a soft voice.

At this Ashby's heart beat wildly, and a thrill of rapture rushed through every nerve and fibre of his being. He sprang up and peered through the gloom, and moved forward in the direction from which the voice seemed to have come. At this moment he did not stop to consider how Dolores could have got there. It was enough that she really was there, and all other feelings were lost in his deep joy.

"Dolores," he said, "where are you? I don't see you."

Through the room a figure now advanced across the moonbeams. He saw the figure. In another instant he had caught Dolores in his arms, and held her strained close to his wildly throbbing heart. But Dolores struggled away.

"Oh no!" she said, in a tone of distress, speaking in her sweet Spanish--"oh no, Senor a.s.sebi. This is cruel--when I have risked so much for you!"

"Forgive me, dearest Dolores," said Ashby; "but you have come to me like an angel from heaven in my darkest hour. And I have thought of you, and of you only, ever since you left me at Burgos. I wandered all through the streets there to find you. I have been in despair at losing you. I have been wondering whether I should ever see you again--and now, dearest, sweetest Dolores, I have you again!"

All this was rapidly uttered in a resistless torrent of words, in which all his long pent-up feelings flowed forth.

Dolores began to sob.

"I didn't think this," she said, "or I should have been afraid to come. Senor, you are false to your English bride."

"English bride!" cried Ashby, scornfully. "What is she? A doll! I never wish to see her again. My fancy for her was a whim--a pa.s.sing whim! _You_, Dolores--_you_ are the only one that I love! I love _you_! I love _you_, I adore you! my own--"

"Senor," cried Dolores, tearing away her hands, which Ashby had seized in his, "I will instantly leave you if you are so dishonorable. All this is insult to me--yes, to me. Oh, senor, you will break my heart!"

As Dolores said this, sobs burst from her. She glided away into the gloom, still sobbing. Ashby gave way utterly.

"Dolores," he cried, in a tone of entreaty--"Dolores, forgive me! I will never offend again--never--never! Oh, forgive me! Come back, Dolores! Oh, do not leave me, Dolores!"

At this Dolores relented, and Ashby saw her approaching him again. He advanced toward her.

"Be calm," she said; "speak low; we are in danger."

"But how did you get here?" asked Ashby.

"I will tell you another time. It is a secret pa.s.sage."

"A secret pa.s.sage?"

"Yes. I have come to tell you that I can save you. You may escape."

"Escape?"

"Yes. I know the way out."

"How does that happen?"

"Oh, I have been here before."

"You!--here?"

"Yes. When I was a child I was here. My father lived here. He had a plantation. But enough; I know the way out."

"But haven't you run too much risk in coming here?"

"I have run a risk," said Dolores, slowly, "but not--too--much."

"A risk?"

"Yes. I went into the wrong room. A man was asleep there. I went to him and touched him, and whispered in his ear your name."

"Dolores!"

"Hush! be calm, senor. Remember your promise."

"Who was the man?"

"I could not see him. He pursued me, but I escaped."

"But you!--how did you get here?"

"By a secret pa.s.sage, as I said."

"In what part of the castle are you?"

"Oh, in the story above."