an open enemy, the other was a secret foe, a
traitor, and a spy. Moreover, in addition to this, there was the fact
that he was an American, which, instead of disarming their rage, had
only intensified it. These men called themselves Republicans, but
they were Spaniards also; and Spaniards hate Americans. They cannot
forgive the great republic for its overshadowing power which menaces
them in the New World, and for the mighty attraction which it
exercises upon disaffected Cubans.

Great though his own danger might be, it was not, however, for
himself that Brooke feared. It was for Talbot. Trusting herself
implicitly to his care and guidance, she had assumed this attire.
Among the Carlists, it would have been the best of protections and
the safest of disguises. Among Republicans, it was the worst of
garbs. For many of the Spanish Republicans were full of French
communistic sentiments, and were ready to wage war with all priests,
and ecclesiasts of all forms of religion. What could save Talbot from
their murderous hands? It was too late now for her to go back. She
must remain a priest, since to reveal herself in her true character
would be to rush on to certain destruction. As a priest, however, she
was exposed to inevitable danger; she must brave all perils; and to
Brooke there seemed not one ray of hope for her safety.

They went back to the loft, and here they remained in silence for
some time. At length Brooke spoke.

"Talbot!"

"Well, Brooke."

"Give me your hand."

The slender hand of Talbot stole into his. It was as cold as ice.

"Talbot!" said Brooke, in a tremulous voice, holding her hand in a
firm grasp.

"Well, Brooke."

"Do you understand the danger we are in?"

"Yes, Brooke."

"Do you forgive me for my share in bringing you into it?"

"Brooke," said Talbot, reproachfully, "such a question is ungenerous.
I am the only cause of your present danger. If you had been alone,
without such a fatal incubus as me, you might easily have escaped;
or, rather, you would never have fallen into danger. Oh, I know--I
know only too well, that you have thrown away your life--or, rather,
risked it--to save me."

As Talbot ended, her voice died away in scarce audible tones, which
were full of indescribable pathos.

Brooke gave a short laugh, as usual.

"Pooh!" said he. "Tut--tut; stuff and nonsense. Talbot, the fact is,
I've been a blockhead. I've got you into a fix, and you're the
sufferer. Now I'm quite rea