There is no need to enlarge upon Katie's feelings, as she sat in her lonely chamber, buried in thoughts which were both sweet and painful. We all know perfectly well what they must have been, for we all understand about that sort of thing. We've dreamed love's young dream, you and I, haven't we? and so we'll let this pass. As for Katie, I'm afraid she must, in her short experience, from all appearances, have dreamed a great many of love's young dreams; but never among all her dreams or waking thoughts had she known a sadder or more sorrowful hour than the present. Even her soul—volatile, buoyant, and lively—found it impossible for a time to rally. She sat with clasped hands and bowed head, looking care-worn, dejected, and utterly miserable; and it was in this state of mind that Lopez found her on the following morning.
He felt again disappointed (in fact, Lopez was apparently always feeling disappointed), though why he should feel so is somewhat singular, since Katie would have been more than human, or less, if she had shown a joyous face in such a situation.
Lopez gave a sigh by way of salutation. Katie did not look up, but knew perfectly well who it was and what he wanted.
"I hope you have found this room more comfortable than the last," he began at length, after the usual salutation.
"I'm sure I don't see what comfort one can expect in such a place as this," was the reply.
"I'm sorry that I haven't anything better to offer," said Lopez; "anything that is in my power to grant I will do for you."
"Those are merely idle words," said Katie. "There is one thing, and one only, that I wish, and that you can give: that one thing you have no right to keep from me, and yet it is useless to ask you for it."
"Useless—oh, do not say that! Tell me what it is."
"My freedom," said Katie, earnestly.
"Freedom!" said Lopez; "why, you are free—free as a bird!"