the necessity in question, and had come to
this place.

The room seemed to him very silent. He had come down the chimney with
very little noise, and had surveyed the scene from the dark recesses
of the fireplace. The corners of the room were all in darkness, but
the floor was illuminated here and there by the moonbeams. Having
thus taken a general view, Ashby could do nothing else but go
forward; and this he did, thinking that every one was asleep, and
that by some happy luck he would find Dolores.

As for Dolores, she was not asleep at that time, nor had she been
asleep at all.

Katie had taken for granted that the beautiful Spaniard was in the
land of forgetfulness; but Katie had never in her life been more
entirely mistaken. Dolores was wide awake, and had been engaged in
thoughts and speculations which made sleep impossible. It was nothing
less than a plan of escape, over which her busy brain was occupied,
and there were certain difficulties about it, through which she could
not see her way clearly. It was over these that she was puzzling her
brain when her attention was roused by certain strange movements in
the room.

These were, first, the movements of Katie as she stole to the
fireplace and waited there.

Secondly, the movements of Harry as he shuffled down to Katie's side.

Thirdly, the preliminary whisperings of Harry and Katie.

Fourthly, the movements of these two out of the fireplace into the
corner of the room.

Fifthly, their continuous whisperings, which sometimes were so
animated that they might have wakened any sleeper.

Over all this Dolores was deeply agitated. Who, she asked herself,
was this visitor to Katie? It could be one, and one only. That one
was Ashby? She had shown him the way. He alone knew it. He had
promised her not to come, but he had broken his word and had come.
And why? Not for her, but for his English maiden! There were these
two now plotting and whispering in her presence, and that, too, after
Ashby had disowned with scorn this English maiden, and had spoken
such words to her! What could she do now? For such outraged love,
such treachery, and such intolerable insult, what revenge could
suffice?

Revenge! Yes, nothing less than revenge! For Dolores was not one of
those tender and sensitive creatures who could lie down and die under
a cruel wrong. Her ardent Southern nature was roused to fury, and she
remained there motionless, but--like some wild beast ready to start