A Castle in Spain Part 7

"Love them?" replied Katie, with the drollest look in the world.

"Why, I positively dote on them!"

Her smile was so sweet, and her face so bewitching, that Harry thought he never saw any face so lovely.

"You see," continued Katie, "I mope and mope, and keep moping so; and things grow so tiresome, that I fairly ache for an adventure."

"Well, but suppose that you were in an awful hurry to meet some one, and were stopped in this fashion?"

At this Katie's whole expression changed. She looked at Harry with a face full of sympathy, behind which there was visible the most intense curiosity.

"Oh, Mr. Rivers," said she, "I'm so sorry! And are you in an awful hurry to meet some one?"

"Awful!" said Harry.

"Oh, Mr. Rivers, I'm so sorry!" said Katie again. "And won't you tell me all about it, please?"

Now Harry was by nature inclined to make the world his confidant; and how much more was he ready to confide in such a one as Katie, who invited his confidence with such tender sympathy! Besides, he already felt, as has been said, quite like an old acquaintance. Ashby's relations to Katie made her seem nearer to him. She was his friend's betrothed. And then, too, he had been chatting with her all day long.

"You see," said he, "I'm on the lookout for a friend."

At this Katie smiled with indescribable comicality.

"Won't I do?" she asked.

Harry stared at her for a moment, and then burst into a laugh, in which Katie joined merrily.

"I dare say now, Mr. Rivers," said she, "you think I'm too slight an acquaintance to be trusted; but you know, in Spain, when one meets with a fellow-countryman who can speak English, why, you know, one can't help feeling quite like an old friend, and that sort of thing; and, mind you, when one has been taken prisoner by the Carlists, one feels much more so, you know. But all the same, I hope you'll excuse me; I didn't mean any harm."

At this Harry laughed still more.

"You're not mad?" said Katie, with a droll a.s.sumption of anxiety.

"Will you really be my friend?" asked Harry.

"Of course. Didn't I say as much?" said Katie.

"Then let's shake hands over it," said Harry, "and swear an eternal friendship."

Saying this, he held out his baud, and Katie held out hers. Harry pressed it warmly and tenderly.

"Well," said Harry, after a pause, "I'll tell you all about it, for I want your--your sympathy, you know, and your advice, you know, and all that sort of thing, you know."

"Well, do you know, Mr. Rivers," said Katie, "that's my strong point.

I always have at my disposal any amount of sympathy; and as for advice, why, I could begin and go on advising, and advising, and advising, from now till--well, not to be too extravagant, I'll merely say till doomsday. So now--won't you begin?"

CHAPTER VII.

IN WHICH HARRY BECOMES CONFIDENTIAL, AND TELLS A VERY REMARKABLE STORY.

Harry paused a little longer, and then said, "Well, you see, the friend that I wanted to see is a lady."

"Of course," said Katie; "that's a self-evident fact. I know that, and she is your ladylove. But I want to know all about her, and, first of all, her name."

"I didn't think that you thought I was thinking of a lady," said Harry.

"What a ridiculous observation!" said Katie; "and I know you only say that to tease me, when you know I'm so curious about this friend of yours."

"Well," said Harry, "in the first place, her name is Talbot."

"Talbot? What else?"

"Sydney--Sydney Talbot."

"Sydney Talbot! But that isn't a girl's name; it's a man's name."

"At any rate," said Harry, "it's her name."

"Well, but hasn't she some pet name--something more feminine, such as 'Minnie,' for instance, or 'Nellie,' or 'Kittie,' or 'Florrie,' or something of that sort?"

"No; her only name is Sydney Talbot. You see, Sydney is a family name, and had to be perpetuated. She had no brothers, and so it was given to her. Her father's name was also Sydney Talbot, and her grandfather's, and--"

"And her great-grandfather's," chimed in Katie, "and so on up to Noah; but his name, at any rate, was not Sydney Talbot. Now this is a very romantic beginning, so go on. I will only remark that I intend to be great friends with your wife some day, and that I've made up my mind to call her 'Syddie.' She is actually pining for a pet name. But what do you call her?"

"I? Oh, I call her Miss Talbot."

"Miss! You call her Miss--Talbot? What a horrible idea! And you pretend to love her!" cried Katie, reproachfully.

"Well--but, you know, Sydney is too stiff."

"Then why not invent a name? Call her 'Poppet,' or 'Topsy,' or 'Fifine,' or 'Rosie,' or 'Gracie.' Why, I could supply you with fifty or sixty names on the spot. But this is all idle trifling. Go on and tell me more. Give a full and complete account of yourself and your 'own one.'"

"Well, you know, I'm doing business in Barcelona, and we were engaged to be married last year."

"Did you see her last in Barcelona?"

"No, in England, last year. I met her in London."

"Have you not seen her since?"

"No. We have corresponded ever since, and this marriage was arranged by letter."

"Oh, but you're not married yet?" said Katie, in a low voice.

"No," said Harry, "and Heaven only knows when we ever shall be."