ble and radiant with joy.

"Oh, Brooke," said she, "tell him to fly! He is free--tell him."

Not understanding any of the circumstances around him, Brooke obeyed
Talbot mechanically, and translated her words simply as she had spoken
them.

"Fly!" said he; "you are free."

A flush of joy passed over the face of Lopez.

"Noblest of ladies!" said he, looking reverentially at Talbot, "I take my
life from you, and will never forget you till my dying day. Farewell!
farewell!"

And with these words he was gone.

CHAPTER LII.

IN WHICH TALBOT TAKES OFF HER DISGUISE.

Brooke and Talbot were now alone; for, though there were one or two
wounded in the room, yet these were too much taken up with their own pains
to think of anything else.

Brooke's wound, after all, turned out to be but slight. The bullet had
grazed his skull, making a furrow through the scalp of no greater depth
than the skin, and carrying away a pathway of hair. The sudden and sharp
force of such a blow had been sufficient to fell him to the floor and
leave him senseless; but, upon reviving, it did not take a very long time
for him to regain his strength and the full use of his faculties. The
traces of the blow were soon effaced, and Brooke at last showed himself to
be very little the worse for his adventure. His face was marked here and
there by spots from the powder; but the blood-stains were quickly washed
away, and his head was bound up in a narrow bandage made of Talbot's
handkerchief. His hat, which had fallen off during his struggles with the
soldiers, was now recovered, and as it was of soft stuff he was able to
wear it.

"With this," said he, "Brooke is himself again."

Talbot now proceeded to wash the bloodstains from her own face.

"That looks better," said Brooke. "Streaks of blood did not improve your
personal appearance."

He tried to speak in his usual careless tone, but his voice was tremulous
and agitated.

"Your blood, Brooke," said Talbot, in a faltering voice--"your
blood--poured out--for me!"

There was a solemn silence after this. Then Brooke leaned back and gave a
heavy sigh.

"I feel a little shaky still," said he.

"Let me support you," said Talbot, with feverish eagerness. "You must be
weak still--very weak. You must not exert yourself too much."

She held out her arms as though to raise him up; but Brooke drew back.

"No, no," he murmured, in a faint voice; "it's no matter--no matter at
all."

Talbo