"Yes." "Well," said Lopez, "your story is a little absurd, yet not at all improbable. I dare say there was a mistake somewhere." "There must have been--yet I don't know." "Young sir," said Lopez, after a pause, "you carry your character in your face. You at least are not a spy. Upon that I would stake my life. I wish I could say as much for your companion. All Spaniards--at least all Republicans--would not let a priest off so easily; but you are different, and I could no more suspect you than I could suspect the apostle St. John. Senor, you are free; you may go on your way at once." "Senor, you are free, and may go on your way at once," repeated Brooke, as a flush of joy passed over his face. "Go, Talbot, go," he added earnestly; "go at once!" But Talbot did not move. "I am deeply grateful, captain," said she, "but I prefer to remain with my friend." "Talbot!" cried Brooke. "Tell him what I say," was Talbot's calm reply. "You are mad!" groaned Brooke. "What is all this?" cried Lopez, angrily. "What does the priest say?" "The priest says that he will not go," replied Brooke--"that he will stay by me." "Oh, he does, does he?" said Lopez. "Well, that's all the better for you. You'll need him, especially if you persist in your obstinacy." Brooke translated this, and Talbot listened without a word. Brooke was now ordered back into the mill, and he went, Talbot following. On reaching the loft, they both were silent for a long time. Brooke spoke first. "Oh, Talbot, Talbot!" he cried, in a reproachful voice, "why didn't you go? You had the chance." "Go!" exclaimed Talbot. "What! go and leave you?" "Of course," said Brooke. "What! when you have risked your life, and are in such danger of death, for me? Oh, Brooke, Brooke! Is this, then, your opinion of me? Can you think me capable of such utter baseness?" "Talbot," said Brooke, "it was to save your life that I left the tower, and now you will not save yourself." "Save myself! save my worthless life! I should scorn it if I must leave you to die. Never! never! Now, may God do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me--that is, till we escape and are out of danger. We must escape together. You shall never lay down your life for me." Talbot spoke with the air of one whose resolution was immovable. Brooke's agitation was intense. "Talbot," he cried, "you are mad. You don't know these men. They are remorseless fiends. They will wreak their vengeance on you as well as on me." "Let them," said Talbot, firmly. "I tell you," cried Brooke, in vehement tones, "that I have a duty to perform and a battle to fight. I have to be constant until death to my duty; but if you stay by me--if you remain--if you are still in peril--oh, Talbot! I shall be false to my duty--for your sake."