ther end of
the carriage, in which position she could watch him the more easily.
These two were the only occupants.

Once or twice Ashby's eyes fell on her as he raised his head or
changed his position; but he paid no attention to her, nor did he
even seem aware of her existence; while she sat veiled, so that the
direction of her glance could not be seen.

For about half an hour the situation remained unaltered, and then at
the end of that time the lady made a readjustment of her mantilla,
which exposed all her head and face. The hands which were raised to
perform this act were soft, round, plump, and dimpled, and might of
themselves have attracted the admiration of one less preoccupied than
Ashby; while the face that was now revealed was one which might have
roused the dullest of mortals. It was a dark olive face, with
features of exquisite delicacy; the eyes were large, lustrous, and
melting, fringed with long lashes; the eyebrows delicately pencilled;
the hair rich black, glossy, and waving in innumerable ripples. Her
cheeks were dimpled, and her lips were curved into a faint smile as
she sat with a demure face and watched Ashby. It may have been a
certain mesmerism in her gaze, or it may only have been that Ashby
had at last grown weary of his own thoughts, for suddenly he looked
up, and caught her eyes fixed thus on him. For a moment an expression
of astonishment filled his face; then the smile of the lady deepened,
and her eyes fell.

At this Ashby jumped from his seat.

"By heavens!" he exclaimed. "Dolores! Oh, Dolores!"

He uttered these words with a strange intonation, yet there was joy
in his eyes and in the tone of his voice, together with the wonder
that had been at first displayed. As he spoke he seized her hand in
both of his, and, holding it fast, seated himself in the place
immediately opposite. After a moment Dolores drew away her hand with
a light laugh.

"Ah, senor," said she, "you do not seem very quick at recognizing
your old acquaintances."

She spoke with the purest Castilian accent, and the rich and mellow
tones of her voice were inexpressibly sweet.

"I--I--had no idea--no idea that you were anywhere near. You were the
last, the very last person that I could have expected to see. How
could I expect to see you here, Dolores? I thought that you were
still at Valencia. And are you alone?"

"Yes--just now--from here to Burgos. I am on my way to visit my aunt
at Pampeluna. She is ill. Ma