No one can say that Katie had not been very severely tried, and had not passed through a most distressing ordeal. Apart "What is the matter with you?" she from the long trial of mind which had pre- asked. "You don't seem glad at all."

had come all the way from England, who had found him not, who had imagined herself deserted-she would learn of his perfidy. The thought was horrible.

his mind. It was she whom he had seen | She would know all. And she-she who in that priest's disguise. It was his affianced bride, whom he had lost, and now at last found! Found! Great Heaven! and here! and thus! Here-when he was ready to die for Katie; when he was now with Katie, who had turned to him from all the world!

Upon such agonizing thoughts as these came Katie's question:

"Why are you so sad?"
Harry sighed.

"I'm thinking of Ashby," said he. He's free now. He'll soon find you." At this Katie tapped with her foot nervously.

Was he a man of honor? Honor! The word now seemed a mockery. Which way would honor impel him? To give up" Katie? What! when she had given up all for him? What! when he had faced death in quarrel with Ashby for her? Honor! Was not honor due to Ashby? and had he not been a traitor to his friend?

There was this fight yet before him, and it would be soon; for Ashby was free. A fight for Katie! And Talbot was here!

"Well," said she, "if you are thinking of him, it's very bad taste to say so. I wasn't thinking of him at all."

But this remark seemed to set Katie off thinking about Ashby, for she too seemed preoccupied.

"I think it's a great shame," said she. "What?"

"Why, for Mr. Ashby to come bothering me just now."

Harry said nothing, and they both relapsed once more into silence.

The harder task was before Harry. There were two for him to face. One, the friend to whom he had been a traitor; the other, his betrothed, to whom he had been false. Of these two the latter was by far the worse. He had faced Ashby already, and could face him again, as a mortal enemy, to fight a mortal battle; but Talbot! Ah! with what eyes could he look upon that pure and noble face? with what words could he address her?

way out. Harry followed, and thus they descended the stairway to the lower hall.

Ashby had gone out shortly after Harry and Katie, following Dolores, who was anxious to see about the gates. The six Carlists followed. The gates were wide open, and far away a few of the fugitives could still be seen flying as fast as their feet could carry them. The six Carlists soon had the gates firmly closed and barred, and mounted guard here, deeming this to be the weak point of the castle; and thinking, too, that if an enemy appeared, he would consider six men at the gate a sign that six hundred were in the garrison.

Russell had followed the six Carlists, thinking that with them he would be safer than anywhere else. Rita had now a horror of those Carlists whom she had betray

Katie's thoughts seemed to be running in that channel which Harry was using for his own, for she suddenly looked at him with earnest scrutiny, and said, ab-ed, and, as he thought, would venture ruptly,

"But you are as bad." "As bad?"

"As bad as I."

Harry sighed.

"Mr. Ashby," said Katie, innocently,
will want to see you too, you know."
"Of course," said Harry.

"Oh, well, then," said Katie, "I needn't see him at all. You can explain it all; for really I hardly know what I can possibly find to say to him."

"I'm afraid," said Harry, "that he will insist on seeing you, and on learning his fate from your own lips."

"His fate!" said Katie-“oh dear!” "I would take all the difficulty from you if I could," said Harry, "but I don't see how I can."

anywhere rather than into their presence.

And now the good man felt quite martial. This new change in his situation, and the inspiring presence of his military friends, made him determine to get rid of that odious disguise which Rita had furnished him. He proceeded, therefore, to divest himself of it.

The Carlists had not noticed him thus far, and had not at all recognized him. Great was their surprise when they saw this "woman" tearing off her outer robe; but far greater was it when they saw the marvellous transformation of a commonplace woman into a resplendent general officer all in blue and gold.

A murmur ran through them, partly of amusement, partly of approval. One of them addressed him. Russell shook his head. "He is a French general," said one; doesn't understand us. Can't some one speak French?”

No one could.

he

One of them then ran inside and brought out a sword, with belt, etc., which he hand

"Oh, well," said Katie, cheerfully, "perhaps he will not be in any very great hurry to see me, after all. He did not seem very anxious about me in the room below. He did not look like a maniac. He did not remonstrate with Lopez. He did not draw his pistol and attack the captain in the midst of his men. He did not fighted to the "French general." Russell took for me, and risk his life. No; he thought too much of his own dear self, and left all the fighting and all the risk to one who is worth far more than ten thousand Ashbys! And that's what I'll tell him!" said Katie. "Let me see him now, while all this is fresh in my memory. Come, Harry, let us wait no longer, but if this meeting has to be, let it be now."

Katie poured forth these words in an impetuous torrent, and, starting up, led the 53*

it, and after some trouble succeeded in buckling the martial gear around him. Then, by way of an additional safeguard against his enemy, he drew his sword, and taking his seat on a stone near the gate, glared watchfully around.

Dolores and Ashby had much to talk of, but Dolores was too prudent to waste time on mere explanations. There was yet very much to be done. Above all, they must now consider how they were to get out of

the castle. After all, as far as she could see, their position had changed little, if at all, for the better. The enemy would rally. They would be attacked. No defense was possible. They would soon be prisoners or fugitives. And if they were to fly, how could they hope to escape in a country swarming with roving bands of marauders belonging to both parties? The problem was a difficult one, and one which was not to be solved very readily.

At length Dolores thought of the wounded men, and as she had a very tender heart, she proposed to go and help them. The two then returned and entered the castle.

They reached the hall at the very time when the other parties were coming into it-namely, Brooke and Talbot from the room, and Harry and Katie from the upper regions. Such coincidences are frequent in real life, and still more frequent in our "Castles in Spain.'

As Brooke and Talbot came out, Ashby and Dolores, advancing toward the room, met them face to face. Brooke and Dolores looked upon one another. There was the flash of mutual recognition in the faces of both. Brooke seemed struck dumb. Dolores was the first to speak.

her thoughts fled from her; she shrank back, and stood staring. But one thought now remained-the thought suggested by that name, Sydney. Well she remembered that name, and all the incidents of that story which Harry had told her when they were first acquainted: the wreck of the ship; the maiden deserted and despairing; her rescue by Harry; their escape in the boat; their love; their plighted faith; the appointed marriage; the lost bride.

Sydney! It was she herself-the promised bride of Harry, whom he would, no doubt, be required to wed at once.

Now she understood why Harry had been so preoccupied.

CHAPTER LII.

IN WHICH A NUMBER OF PEOPLE FIND
THEMSELVES IN A VERY EMBARRASSING
SITUATION.

BROOKE and Dolores stood facing one another in silence. The embarrassment was most painful. Each felt it too much to be able to notice it in the other, and each instinctively avoided the glance of the other's eyes, casting only looks of a furtive kind at the other's face, and then hastily looking elsewhere. In fact, the

"Raleigh!" she said, in tones of amazement and consternation. "Dolores!" said Brooke, in a deep, hol- situation was truly horrible. low voice.

Brooke was ghastly; but this may have been the effect of the recent shock. As for Dolores, every trace of color fled from her face, and she was as white as marble.

Talbot heard this and saw it. These words, these familiar names, smote her to the heart. She recollected the story which Brooke had told her. She remembered the name of that Cuban maid. It was this-it was "Dolores!" Was this she?

She looked around in despair.

At that moment, as her despairing eyes wandered around, they fell full upon the face of Harry, for Harry and Katie, on descending the stairs, had on this instant reached the spot.

Harry saw her again.

She

The priest's dress was removed. stood in her own garb, her very selfTalbot-with all her noble face revealed, and all her exquisite grace of feature and of form.

"Sydney!" said he.

"Harry!" said Talbot.

But Brooke felt it incumbent on him to say something; he also felt anxious to vindicate his honor, if such a thing were, indeed, in any way possible. But ardent words, excited, eager welcomes, and all those other circumstances that usually attend upon the meeting of long-divided lovers were in this case clearly impossible.

Brooke felt Talbot's presence-Talbot, who was worth to him ten thousand like Dolores; so he could only take refuge in the most commonplace conventionalities. It is true, Talbot could not understand Spanish, but Talbot could understand those tones of voice which form the universal and natural language of man; and if Brooke had felt ever so full of eager delight, he would have hesitated to manifest it under such very delicate circumstances.

At length Brooke cleared his throat. "This," said he, in a solemn tone-"this is indeed an unexpected pleasure." Dolores sighed.

"It is indeed, señor," she replied, “an

Katie heard this. She turned pale. All unexpected, a most unexpected one.

"It is indeed," said Brooke, in quite a helpless way.

Saying this, he held out his hand. Dolores held out hers. They shook hands. Then they cast hasty looks at one another. "I hope you have been quite well?" said Brooke.

"Oh, quite," said Dolores; "and you, señor?"

"Oh, very well," said Brooke, “very well indeed."

Dolores was conscious-smitten by this proof of her former lover's fidelity. She hastened to excuse herself somehow.

"I-I," she said, with an embarrassment equal to that of Brooke-"I thought you were in America."

"No; I was in Cuba."

"I thought I had lost you," said Dolores: " you ceased to write."

This sounded like the reproach of a faithful lover. Brooke felt hurt. "Oh no," said he: "I wrote, but you ceased to answer."

"I thought something had happened," said Dolores.

"I thought so too," said Brooke. "I never got your letters. Where did you go?"

And now another pause succeeded. Both of them were horribly embarrassed. Each had the same feeling, but neither one knew the feeling of the other. Each knew that a change had occurred, but neither knew that the same change had been experienced by the other. Brooke knew himself false, but thought Dolores Dolores jumped at this question as givtrue, while Dolores had a similar feeling.ing a chance of relief. So she began to Besides, this new love which each had conceived and cherished made the old one seem a mistake-made them regard each other with aversion, and this meeting as a calamity; yet each felt bound to conceal these feelings, and exhibit toward the other an impossible cordiality. All this caused a wretched embarrassment and restraint, which each felt, and for which each took the blame, thinking the other altogether true and innocent.

The deep feelings of the past were yet strong in their hearts-the immediate past-and with these their hearts were full. Yet these had to be concealed. Each felt bound to the other by a solemn vow, and by every principle of duty and honor. They had exchanged vows of love and eternal fidelity. From such vows who could release them? Yet the vows were already broken by each, and of this each was conscious. Had Brooke met Dolores before this last scene with Talbot, he might have felt self-reproach, but he could not have felt such a sense of unworthiness. For before that he had, at least, kept a watch upon his tongue, and in words, at least, he had not told his love for another. But now his word had gone forth, and he had pledged himself to another.

But he had to say something. Dolores was silent. He thought she was waiting for him to explain.

"I-I," he stammered-“I have hunted-hunted you-all through Spain."

This was the truth, for Brooke had been faithful to Dolores until he had met with Talbot.

give a long account of her life in Spain, detailing minute incidents, and growing gradually calmer, more self-possessed, and more observant of Brooke. She saw with satisfaction that Brooke made no demonstrations; yet her satisfaction was checked by the thought that perhaps he was deterred from exhibiting the raptures of a lover by the presence of others-by the fear that he had been only too true, and that those raptures would yet be exhibited. She resolved that he should not have an opportunity. Yet how could she avoid him? And thus she thought, and still she went on talking.

Clearly false.

And now
Could he

The effect of her story was a crushing one. She made no mention of Ashby, and Brooke concluded that she had been true, while he had been false. what was he? come back to Dolores? Could he be what he had been? Could he give up Talbot? The thought was intolerable. Never had any one been to him so dear as Talbot. Never had Talbot been to him so dear as now. And yet was he not in honor bound to Dolores? Honor! and did not honor bind him to Talbot?

Such was the struggle within this unhappy man.

Almost at the same time Harry and Talbot had recognized each other.

Talbot, who had stood unmoved at the presence of death, now felt herself quail and grow all unnerved at the presence of Harry. But then she had been strengthened by her new love for Brooke; now she was weakened by the remembrance of her lost love for Harry. This was an ordeal