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"Westlotorn," repeated Harry: "never saw her, and don't think I ever heard the name in all my life." "I got acquainted with her at Cadiz a few months ago," said Ashby. "Her father had been a merchant there, and had died about a year before. She was there with her step-mother, who took no particular care of her a miserable beast of a woman.
"Katie," said Ashby, in a tremulous voice "little darling," he continued, in a lower tone "didn't you know that I'd be here?" "Well, I should have felt disappointed," said Katie, softly, "if you had not been here." At this moment Mrs. Russell turned, and said, sharply, "Come, Katie." "All right," said Ashby, coolly; "I'll see Miss Westlotorn on board the train." Mrs. Russell looked vexed.
The fact is, the fellow was too ridiculous, for he actually wanted a smile from each of them. As they passed Harry dropped behind. "Look here, Ashby," said he; "where in Heaven's name have you hid yourself all the morning? I thought you wanted to find Miss Westlotorn." "So I did," said Ashby, in a rueful tone. "Why, confound it, man, she was close by us all the time.
"And now, señor," said she, with a perceptible effort, as of one who approaches a disagreeable subject, "this beautiful Inglesa who is she?" Ashby's eyes fell before the fixed and profound inquiry of those of Dolores's, who watched him close, and lost nothing of his change of features. "This lady?" said he, and hesitated. "Yes," said Dolores, gently. "She is a a Miss Westlotorn."
"Why, because the infernal scoundrel is deep in some plan to get hold of Katie's money." "Katie's money? Oh, she has money, then?" "Of course about thirty or forty thousand pounds. Most of this, I believe, is in Spanish bonds, in which Westlotorn was foolish enough to invest." "Not very good just now, hey?" "Oh, they'll be good ultimately.
Westlotorn, the widow, you know, is hot-and-heavy in the chase of a husband, and thought that all the young fellows who came after Katie were after her. The worst of them was a chap named Lopez, who calls himself a captain in the Spanish army a poor, pitiful beggar whom I shall have to horsewhip. And, by-the-bye, that reminds me I expect to be called out to-morrow or next day." "Called out? how?"
She was in correspondence with her sister in England, a Mrs. Russell, whom she kept urging to come on and take Katie away from Spain. This Mrs. Westlotorn had induced her husband before his death to appoint Russell, her sister's husband, Katie's guardian, and it was this Russell and his wife whom, she expected on, but they could not get away very easily. After a time Mrs.
"Captain Lopez," he began, "did you see a young English lady here last night a Miss Westlotorn?" "Yes," said Lopez. "Did you? Is she Did Is is is she in in the castle?" stammered Harry, in distress and deep agitation. There was not one expression on Harry's face nor one tremor in his faltering voice that was not instantly marked by Lopez. There seemed in this to be some clue to the mystery.
"And we can talk without being overheard," said Harry. "Of course I don't mean to say that we say anything that everybody mightn't hear; but then, you know, Miss Westlotorn, one can talk much more freely when one isn't surrounded by a coldly critical audience."
I feel so awfully well acquainted with you, you know; and I've told you all about my affairs, you know, just as if you were my oldest friend." "I should like it above all things," said Katie. "I hate to be called Miss Westlotorn by my friends. It's too formal." "And you must call me 'Harry," said this volatile young man. "You will, now, won't you?" he added, in a coaxing tone.
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