So Ashby felt himself debarred from making any strong demonstration of feeling either by word or act. He was afraid that Dolores might resent it. She might even fly from him as mysteriously as she had come. He was bound, therefore, to set a watch upon himself, and repress his feelings most strongly. It seemed to him a great concession on her part that she permitted him even to hold her hand. This was of itself most sweet, even if he could say nothing of those thoughts that were swelling within him. "How did you manage to hide yourself so at Burgos?" he asked, after a long silence. "I did not hide," said Dolores. "I went to that house where my friends were; and on the following morning they took me to a hotel where they said there was an English family. These were the Russells, and they consented to let me travel with them as far as I was going. Your English maiden is very beautiful, senor." Dolores spoke these last words in a tone full of pathos. "She is a pink-and-white doll," said Ashby, sharply. "Tell me about yourself, Dolores. Do you know"--and he bent down low over her--"do you know how I tried to see you? I was up at four, and from that until ten I paced the streets in all directions, hoping to get a glimpse of you. Did you know that I was looking for you? Then at last I saw you with that beast of a tailor, and I was in despair." "What! could you not join their party? I wondered why you did not come to speak to--to me," said Dolores, "and I felt hurt--because I thought I might never see you again." "Dolores," said Ashby, taking her hand in both of his, and drawing nearer to her, "I swear that at that time I'd have given my right arm to speak to you. But that devil of a tailor is my bitter enemy; and you saw the quarrel we had in the railway station at Madrid." "Then you did not purposely--avoid me?" said Dolores, in a faltering voice. "Oh, Dolores!" said Ashby, in a reproachful tone. He tried to draw her nearer, but Dolores would not allow it. "I thought that I should like to say good-bye, and it seemed sad to have you appear to avoid me." "By heavens, Dolores!" cried Ashby, "I had made up my mind to leave the train and follow you to Pampeluna." Dolores sighed. "You could not have left your English maiden," said she. "I could--I would!" cried Ashby. "By heavens, I would! She is nothing to me--nothing better than a kitten. The moment you came, I understood all my feeling for her. It was nothing. Beside you, she sinks into utter insignificance. You, Dolores, are everything to me. I tell you, you are infinitely dearer to me than that--" "Hush, senor," said Dolores; "I will not--I will--will--will not listen to one single, single word of this." "But, oh, dearest, sweetest Dolores, will you not let me tell you how I love you?" said Ashby, drawing her closer to him. Dolores shrank away. "Oh no--no, no!" she said. "I will not listen--never--never--never!"