But Lopez remained. He bent over Brooke. He raised him up to a more comfortable position, and examined him in a way which showed both skill and experience.
Then he suddenly rose and left the room. Talbot heard his footsteps outside. Was he escaping? she asked herself, and her answer was, No.
She was right. In a few moments Lopez came back with some cold water. He bathed Brooke's head, loosened his neckcloth, and rubbed his hands as skilfully as a doctor and as tenderly as a nurse.
At length Brooke drew a long breath, then opened his eyes, and looked around with a bewildered air. Then he sat up and stared. He saw Lopez, no longer stern and hostile, but surveying him with kindly anxiety. He saw Talbot, her face all stained with blood, but her eyes fixed on him, glowing with love unutterable and radiant with joy.
"Oh, Brooke," said she, "tell him to fly! He is free—tell him."
Not understanding any of the circumstances around him, Brooke obeyed Talbot mechanically, and translated her words simply as she had spoken them.
"Fly!" said he; "you are free."
A flush of joy passed over the face of Lopez.
"Noblest of ladies!" said he, looking reverentially at Talbot, "I take my life from you, and will never forget you till my dying day. Farewell! farewell!"
And with these words he was gone.