Still, there was another thought which was worse, and that was this--namely, that Harry could no longer satisfy her. Whether she had ever really loved him or not she did not now stop to inquire, nor was such an inquiry worth making. It was only too evident now that Harry had declined to nothingness, and less than nothingness, in her heart, and that in the course of the tragical events of the last few days Brooke had grown to be more than all the world to her. The feelings and thoughts of Brooke were of the same description. It had seemed to him that Dolores had been faithful; and as he had all along felt firmly convinced of her passionate love for himself and unalterable fidelity, it never entered into his head now to suspect any change in her. At the same time, he felt that, whether he had ever loved her formerly or not, he certainly had no feeling of love for her now; for Talbot had utterly effaced that former image, and all the world would now be as nothing to him without Talbot. For some time they devoted themselves to the wounded men, and then, having finished this task, they retreated to the farthest end of the room. Here there was a rude bench, upon which they seated themselves, and remained thus for a long time in utter silence. "You saw my meeting with--with that--young lady," said Brooke, at last. "Did you understand who it was? It was--Dolores." "I know," said Talbot, with a heavy sigh. "And did you observe my meeting with that gentleman? Did you understand that?" "What!" cried Brooke, in amazement at the suggestion which was conveyed by Talbot's words. He had not had leisure to notice or think of any one except Dolores. "It was Mr. Rivers," said Talbot. "The devil!" cried Brooke, with a groan. At this Talbot very properly said nothing. "Well," said Brooke, after a long pause, "I didn't know that things could possibly be more infernally embarrassing or more confoundedly complicated than they were; but this is certainly a little beyond what I dreamed of. And--and--" He turned with a despairing look and took Talbot's hand. "What, Brooke?" "Am--am I--to--to--congratulate you--and all that?" he stammered. "What!" said Talbot, reproachfully. Brooke was silent. "Oh, Brooke," said Talbot, "what are we to do?" "Give it up," said Brooke, in a dismal voice. "This," continued Talbot, "is worse than when we were prisoners, and dying by turns for one another." "I wish," said Brooke, "that I had died when I wanted to." "And must we now give one another up?" sighed Talbot. "Don't see what else we can do," said Brooke. "We've got to keep our confounded promises." "Which promises, Brooke?" "I don't know." "Brooke!" "What?" "What ought I to do?" "I don't know." "Ought I to keep my promise?" "Which promise?" "Why, my promise to--to Mr. Rivers." "D--n Mr. Rivers!" growled Brooke, turning away. "That," said Talbot, mildly, "is not an answer to my question."