Chapter 45

IN WHICH HARRY ASKS A FAVOR, AND LOPEZ BEGINS TO SEE A LITTLE LIGHT.

While Lopez was thus chafing and fuming he was accosted by Harry.

Harry's position was peculiar, and not particularly enviable. He had been informed that he was a free man, and master of his own actions. Lopez had nothing against him, and by this time had forgotten even his existence. After his deliverance, Harry had gone mooning about, stared at by all in the castle, until at length he had fallen asleep.

In the morning he made a great discovery. This was the fact that his freedom to go was useless, and that he was still a prisoner here--a prisoner, though a voluntary one--a prisoner bound to this place by bonds stronger than iron manacles or walls of stone. These bonds were the feelings which had started up within him before he was aware, and now held him fast tied to Katie. He awoke to feel that his present freedom was far less sweet than his late captivity--that delightful captivity with its stolen interviews, and the sweet thoughts of her who was so near.

And where was she now? He had seen nothing of her. Had she fled? But how, and why, and where would she have fled from him? Had she been captured? But why? Who would capture her? Yet where was she? These were the questions that came thronging upon him to vex his soul and destroy his peace; so that it was for the purpose of finding out something definite about her that he had sought out Lopez.

He looked pale and agitated. Lopez, preoccupied though he was, could not help noticing this, and he thought that Harry must be suffering from anxiety about his friend Ashby. This, however, he immediately found, from Harry's first question, to be a great mistake.

Harry was far from suspecting the state of mind in which Lopez was--how full of love and jealousy and suspicion; how at that very moment he was eager to penetrate into the secret of Katie's heart. In fact, Harry suspected nothing at all, and so was not at all on his guard, but blurted out all his feelings.

"Captain Lopez," he began, "did you see a young English lady here last night--a Miss Westlotorn?"

"Yes," said Lopez.

"Did you? Is she--Did--Is--is--is she in--in the castle?" stammered Harry, in distress and deep agitation.

There was not one expression on Harry's face nor one tremor in his faltering voice that was not instantly marked by Lopez. There seemed in this to be some clue to the mystery.

"She is in the castle," said Lopez.

"Where--when--where?" said Harry, excitedly. "I've been looking for her everywhere. I've gone over the whole castle. I hope she isn't hurt! Is she safe? Did she fall into the hands of the soldiers?"

"She fell into my hands," said Lopez, bluntly.

Harry fastened on him a look of devouring anxiety.

"Did you--Is she--What did--When--that is--is she safe?"

"She is safe," said Lopez.

Harry drew a long breath.

"You see," said he, with a little more composure, "I have felt anxious about her. I have been worried, you know, and I have felt anxious about her--in fact, you know, I have felt anxious about her."

"She is kept out of the way just now," said Lopez, "on account of the riot in the castle and the dread we have of an attack. I don't care about letting the men know she is here."

Harry drew a breath of relief.

"I'm glad," he said.

Another sigh followed. Then he looked wistfully at Lopez.

"Would it be too much to ask--if I were to ask--if you would present me--to--to pay my respects to her, as an old friend?"

"Impossible, senor," said Lopez. "She is with the women; you couldn't visit her. You will be able to pay your respects to her after she reaches Vittoria, or some other place of safety. Until then it is impossible. As for yourself, I hope you are comfortable; and whenever you wish to go you may go."

Harry sighed, and stood as one in a dream.

"I think," said he, "I shall not go--just yet. Perhaps I may wait till the rest are going."

"Good-morning, senor," said Lopez, walking away.

Harry stood rooted to the spot.

As Lopez walked off, he felt that he had got hold of something which might be used against Katie. "Another"--he said to himself--"another poor fool who has become infatuated, like myself, but now the power is mine, and I will use it. Yes; perhaps she herself may feel toward this man something of what I feel toward her. If so--if so--I'll drag the secret out of her. But, by heaven! that poor fool is standing there yet. There's a mad lover for you! Ha, ha! Is he any worse than I have been? Let me see. Suppose I had been taken prisoner as he has been, shut up with her in a castle, then freed; would I not long to see her? Would not liberty be useless without her? That man can't leave his prison-house. She is here--she is here; that's enough. Yet what is she to him? Is not this man Ashby's friend? I saw them meet at the hotel in Burgos as I watched Ashby. They greeted like brothers, and went off together for the night. And _he_--why, he has fallen in love with his friend's betrothed! his friend's--ha, ha!--betrothed--ha, ha!--and, by Jove! why not? That girl could make a saint fall in love with her. That girl--why she oughtn't to be allowed to go at large, and therefore I've shut her up; and shut up she shall be for the remainder of her days, like a good Spanish wife. But I must have a few more words with my moon-struck lover."

With these thoughts Lopez sauntered back to where Harry was standing, fixed upon the spot where he had left him.

"Pardon, senor," said he, "but it seems to me that you take a deep interest in the senorita. May I ask if she is a relative? In that case some allowance might be made: she might not object to see a relative."

"Oh," said Harry, eagerly, his whole face gleaming with joy, "she will never object to see _me_. Ask her; ask her. She will be delighted to see _me_."

At this there were two distinct feelings struggling for the mastery in the breast of the Spaniard; one was exultation at the ready way in which Harry had fallen into his trap; the other was one of jealousy at Harry's easy confidence. He had never felt such confidence at finding a welcome reception from Katie. However, he was now on the right track, and he determined to follow it up.

"Are you a relative of the lady's?" he asked.

"Well, no--not exactly a relative," said Harry.

"Ah! perhaps a connection by marriage?"

"Well, no--not exactly a connection, either--"

"Well, you see, senor, in Spain etiquette is very strict, and our ladies are under more restraint than with you. I must treat this lady in accordance with my own feelings, and a Spanish gentleman would feel as if he were slighting a lady if he were to act out of accordance with Spanish etiquette."

"Oh," said Harry, earnestly, "she is an English lady."

"But I am a Spanish gentleman."

Harry drew a long breath. He was in despair. Oh, how he longed to be Katie's third cousin for a few minutes.

"I am very sorry," said Lopez, "but you see I have to be guided by my own sense of propriety. I suppose you are a very old friend, senor; yet I have been quite intimate with the senorita myself, and never heard her mention your name."

"Well," said Harry, "I have not known her _very_ long."

"She used to speak freely of all her English friends," continued Lopez; "for you see she had not many, having lived so long in Spain; and so I was surprised to hear you speak of her as so intimate a friend."

"Well," said Harry, "my acquaintance with her is not of _very_ long standing."

"You were not acquainted with her at Madrid?" said Lopez.

"No," said Harry, dreamily.

"Nor at Cadiz?" continued Lopez.

"No--not Cadiz."

"Then, senor, you could only have made her acquaintance on this journey," said Lopez, with a smile, which was not merely put on for a purpose. He felt like smiling, so successful had he been in getting at the truth.

Harry looked confused.

"Well, you see, senor, in captivity, or on a journey, people are very much thrown together, and they make friendships very fast."

"Oh yes," said Lopez, "I understand. In short, it amounts to this, that one day of such intercourse, so free, so unconventional, is equal to a whole year, or even a whole lifetime, of the formal intercourse of ordinary social life."

"Well, senor, I am sorry. I came back thinking that you might be some near relative or connection. My own ideas and habits do not allow me to permit what you ask; but the senorita will be her own mistress in time, and then of course she can see whom she chooses."

And now, for a second time, Lopez walked away, thinking that he understood all. Another victim, he thought. And in two or three days: in that time she has turned his head. And does she return his passion? Is she as indifferent to him as she is to me, and to Ashby? I will soon find out.