overwhelmed; and as they stood
apart, not speaking, not even looking at one another, there was a
struggle in the mind of each which made it hard indeed for them to
regain any kind of self-control. The vision of death which had been
before them had disclosed to each the inmost soul of the other, and
had led to revelations of feeling that might not have been made under
any other circumstances. They had both alike expected death; they had
said to one another their last and truest words; they had given
expression to their most secret and sacred confidences; they had
bidden their most solemn and most tender farewells; but the moment
which had threatened to be the last of life, had passed away leaving
them still in the land of the living--leaving them together as
before, bound by the new and imperishable tie of a common memory, for
neither could forget all that had been said, and felt, and done by
the other.

[Illustration: "The 'Priest' Was Standing Directly In Front Of Brooke."]

After the events of the morning, Lopez had gone away with the greater
part of his followers, leaving behind a guard of about half a dozen,
as before. The noise of these movements had aroused the two
prisoners, and they had gone to the window to look out, seeking
rather to distract their thoughts than to satisfy anything like
curiosity. From this window they had watched these proceedings in
silence, standing close beside each other, with their eyes turned to
the scene outside, but with thoughts wandering elsewhere. At length
all had gone except the guard, and the last of the band had been
swallowed up by the intervening hills. There was nothing more to be
seen outside or to serve as a pretence for keeping their looks from
following their thoughts.

Their eyes met. It was a deep and an eloquent look, full of unuttered
meaning, which each turned upon the other; and each seemed to read in
the eyes of the other all the secrets of the heart; and standing thus
they looked into one another's hearts.

It was Brooke who spoke first.

"I wonder," said he, in a low, gentle voice--"I wonder, Talbot, if
you had that look when you placed yourself in front of me and faced
their levelled rifles. If so, Talbot, lad, I don't wonder that the
soldiers paused; for they say that the calm eye of man can tame the
wild beast or the fury of the maniac; and so your eyes tamed the
madness of these fierce ruffians. Was your look then, Talbot, as
calm and as firm as it