Katie heard this. She turned pale. All her thoughts fled from her; she shrank back, and stood staring. But one thought now remained—the thought suggested by that name, Sydney. Well she remembered that name, and all the incidents of that story which Harry had told her when they were first acquainted—the wreck of the ship—the maiden deserted and despairing—her rescue by Harry—their escape in the boat—their love—their plighted faith—the appointed marriage—the lost bride.
Sydney! It was she herself—the promised bride of Harry, whom he would, no doubt, be required to wed at once.
Now she understood why Harry had been so preoccupied.
CHAPTER LIV. — IN WHICH A NUMBER OF PEOPLE FIND THEMSELVES IN A VERY EMBARRASSING
SITUATION.
Brooke and Dolores stood facing one another in silence. The embarrassment was most painful. Each felt it too much to be able to notice it in the other, and each instinctively avoided the glance of the other's eyes, casting only looks of a furtive kind at the other's face, and then hastily looking elsewhere. In fact, the situation was truly horrible.
But Brooke felt it incumbent on him to say something; he also felt anxious to vindicate his honor—if such a thing were, indeed, in any way possible. But ardent words, excited, eager welcomes, and all those other circumstances that usually attend upon the meeting of long-divided lovers, were, in this case, clearly impossible. Brooke felt Talbot's presence—Talbot, who was worth to him ten thousand like Dolores; so he could only take refuge in the most commonplace conventionalities. It is true, Talbot could not understand Spanish; but Talbot could understand those tones of voice which form the universal and natural language of man; and if Brooke had felt ever so full of eager delight, he would have hesitated to manifest it under such very delicate circumstances.
At length Brooke cleared his throat.