When the meal had ended, and we rose, I said to her, This is my friends last evening in Genoa. He returns to England to-morrow.
And do you go also? she asked, with an intonation as I flattered myself of disappointment.
Well; no, I replied; I shall remain a few days longer.
The shadow of anxiety which had rested momentarily upon her face, vanished at once, as she turned to Nugent, saying, I am sorry you are leaving, and must wish you bon voyage. I hope, some day, we may meet again, for our dinner-table discussions have been exceedingly pleasant.
Thanks, Mademoiselle, replied Bob, grasping the tiny white hand she held out to him. My business calls me to London, otherwise I should not return just yet. However, I hope you will prevent my friend, here, from getting into any scrapes with the bloodthirsty Italians after Im gone.
She laughed merrily as she answered, Hes quite old enough to take care of himself. I cannot undertake the responsibility. Good-bye, and she tripped away up the stairs to her own apartments.
Old fellow, exclaimed Bob, after she was out of hearing, if you feel inclined to pitch yourself into the matrimonial net, theres your chance; and I wish you every success.
Well, there are more unlikely things than my enlistment in the ranks of Benedicts, I replied, laughing, as we sought our hats and went out to spend our last evening together.
Early the following morning Nugent departed for Turin, en route for England, and I was left alone to amuse myself as best I could. Truth to tell, I was not sorry Bob had gone, for now I felt free to devote myself to the beautiful woman who held me under her spell. I lost no time in carrying out my object, for meeting her in the drawing-room before dinner, I obtained permission to escort her on her evening walk.
It was already dusk when the tediously long meal was brought to a conclusion, and we left the hotel, strolling along the Galleria Mazzini towards the public gardens of Aqua Sola, the most charming promenade in Genoa. It is situated upon a picturesque cliff overlooking the port and the Mediterranean beyond, while at the rear rise the tall vine-covered Appenines, with romantic-looking villas peeping out here and there from amongst the olives and maize. The shadow of its great old trees form a delightful retreat from the scorching noon-day sun; but at night, when the people refresh themselves after the heat and burden of the day, its gravelled walks are thronged by the élite. Fashionable Genoa enjoys herself with mad but harmless frolic, and under the deep shadows fire-flies flit and couples flirt.
Upon an old stone seat near a plashing fountain we sat listening to the sweet melancholy strains of the Sempre Vostro waltz, performed by the splendid band of the National Guard. On the right the many-coloured fairy lamps of the gardens attached to the Caffé dItalia shone through the dark foliage; on the left the ripple of the sea surged softly far below. Away across the moonlit waters flashed the warning beacon of the port, and the air was heavy with the sensuous odour of orange blossom and roses.
For upwards of an hour we sat talking; she piquante, bright, and amusing; I lazily enjoying a cigar, and watching her beautiful face in rapt admiration. I told her of myself how the interest in my sole object in life had been suddenly destroyed by affluence and my present position, that of a world-weary tourist, with no definite purpose farther than killing time.
All my efforts to learn some events of her past life or her place of abode were unavailing. I am plain Vera Seroff, she replied, and I, too, am a wanderer what you call bird of passage. I have no country, alas! even if I have patriotism.
But you are Russian? I said.
Quite true yes. I shall return to Russia some day. And she sighed, as if the mention of her native land stirred strangely sad memories.
Where do you intend going when you leave here? I asked.
I have not the slightest idea. We have no fixed abode, and travel whither it suits my uncle London, New York, Paris; it matters little where we go.
You have been in England; have you not?
Yes; and I hate it, she replied, abruptly, at once turning the conversation into another channel. She appeared extremely reticent regarding her past, and by no amount of ingenuity could I obtain any further information.
When it grew chilly, we rose and walked along past the forts, and out upon the Spezzia road, where a refreshing breeze blew in from the sea.
In her soft white dress, with a bunch of crimson roses at her throat, I had never seen her looking so beautiful. I loved her madly, blindly, and longed to tell her so.
Yet how could I?
Such a proceeding would be absurd, for our acquaintance had been of so brief a duration that we scarcely knew anything of one another.
Chapter Seven
A Secret Tie
On our return we traversed the road skirting the fortress, and paused for a few moments, resting upon a disused gun-carriage. The moon had reappeared and cast its long line of pale light upon the rippling waters of the Mediterranean.
Suddenly, as we were seated side by side, her dark eyes met mine, and by some inexplicable intuition, some mysterious rapport between my soul and hers, I knew I was something more to her than a mere casual acquaintance. My reason answered me that I must be mad to think she loved me, but my heart told me different, and gradually all my misgivings vanished before the hope and confidence that the conviction of her love raised in my mind.
I have just been wondering, I said, whether, when we part in a few days, we shall ever meet again, for, believe me, I shall cherish the fondest memory of this evening we have passed together. It is charming.
And I also, she replied, but as you say in English, the best of friends must part.
It is useless to repeat the words I uttered. Suffice it to say that I could restrain my feelings no longer, and there, in the bright Italian moonlight, I declared my ecstatic passion, and asked her to be my wife.
Had I taken her unawares? Probably so; for, when I had finished, she rose with an effort, and withdrawing her hand gently, said, No, Frank for I may call you by that name your request I am unable to grant, and the reason I cannot now explain. There is, alas! an insurmountable barrier between us, and had you known more of me you would not have asked me this.
But, Vera, you love me, you cant deny it! I passionately exclaimed.
Tears stood in her eyes, as she answered, Yes, yes, I do I love you dearly!
Then what is this obstacle to our happiness?
No! no! she cried, covering her face with her hands. Request no explanation, for, I I cannot give it. It would be fatal.
But why? I asked, for it was a cruel and bitter disappointment. All my hopes had been shattered in those brief moments.
From the day we first met I have known we loved one another, she said slowly, yet it would have been better had we never become acquainted, since it causes pain to both.
But, surely, if you love me, Vera, this obstacle can be removed! Tell me what it is; if a secret, it will be safe with me, I said earnestly.
She dashed the tears from her eyes, and with an effort stood erect before me, saying:
No! it is impossible. Think no more of marriage, Frank; regard me only as a dear friend who loves you.
Then you will not tell me why we cannot marry? I said, gravely, rising and taking her hand.
She dashed the tears from her eyes, and with an effort stood erect before me, saying:
No! it is impossible. Think no more of marriage, Frank; regard me only as a dear friend who loves you.
Then you will not tell me why we cannot marry? I said, gravely, rising and taking her hand.
It it is a secret. I would rather die than divulge it; though, some day, perhaps, the circumstances will alter, and I shall be at liberty to tell you everything. For the present we love one another, but it must end there; marriage is entirely out of the question.
I saw it was useless to press for any further explanation. Evidently she was prepared for any self-sacrifice, to protect her secret, because, when finding herself wavering, she had summoned all her strength, and with a mighty effort overcame her emotion, resolutely giving her answer.
As we rose and turned towards the city, a circumstance, slight in itself, occurred, which afterwards caused me not a little perturbation and surprise, and which considerably enhanced the mystery surrounding the fair Russian.
We were passing a buttress of the fort when my attention was arrested by what appeared to be a man standing bolt upright in the shadow.
I was too engrossed with thoughts of our tête-à-tête to allow the discovery of an eavesdropper probably only a peasant to cause me any alarm, but, seeing my eyes upon him, for I had halted to make sure, the figure suddenly drew from the shadow, and, with its face averted from the moonlight, walked rapidly away.
Vera, uttering an exclamation of surprise or alarm, which it was I could not tell seized my arm with a convulsive energy that caused me no small pleasure at the feeling of dependence it implied, and drew a deep breath.
Do you know him? I asked.
No, no; not at all, she quickly replied. He might have heard us; but never mind.
I endeavoured to learn the cause of her alarm thinking that so much agitation could not be created by such a trivial circumstance; but whether my knowledge of feminine nature was imperfect, or whether she knew who the listener was, and concealed his identity, I could not learn, her answers being of the most evasive kind.
It was plain that the fact of our being discovered together had caused her the greatest consternation, and I was considerably puzzled to assign to this a reason.
I did not broach the subject again, however, but walked straight to the hotel, where we bade each other buona notte.
We met daily, and I, most prosaic of bachelors, found myself thinking of her every moment.
Though in a dejected, perplexed mood, I felt utterly happy when at her side; for had she not given me words of hope for the future, and in these was a certain amount of consolation, however slight. Our clandestine meetings were so skilfully arranged as to keep the ever-grumbling Hertzen in entire ignorance, and Vera admitted such expeditions were her happiest hours.
One evening, a fortnight afterwards, we had driven to Pegli, a quaint old fishing village four miles from Genoa. It was a gorgeous sunset, the sea a glittering expanse of blue and gold stretching out toward the descending sky, with nothing to fleck its surface but the gleam of a white sail or two; and as we walked together, close to the lapping waves, I fancied she looked a trifle wan and anxious.
At first I took no heed of it, but presently her agitation became so apparent that I asked whether she were well.
Yes, well enough in health, she sighed, but very unhappy.
Why, how is that? I asked in concern.
Ah! Frank, she said, with her eyes fixed sorrowfully upon the ground, I must not tell you all, so you cannot understand but I am one of those born to unhappiness.
Tell me something of this sorrow, that I may sympathise with you, I said, looking into her eyes. If it is in my power to help you I will do so willingly.
Ah! if you would? she exclaimed wistfully, her face brightening at a suggestion which appeared to flash across her mind. There is indeed one way by which you might render me a service, but it is impossible. I am afraid the commission is too great for you to undertake.
I am ready to serve you in any way, Vera. If a test of my devotion is required, Im prepared for the ordeal, I replied seriously.
She halted, and gazing into my face with eyes brimming with tears, said: Believe me, I am in sore need of a friend. I will tell you something of my trouble, but do not ask for further explanations now, as I cannot give them. The man whom you know as my uncle holds me in his power. He is harsh, cruel, and and
He is your husband! I interrupted in a low voice, for somehow I felt convinced that such was the case.
No! no! she cried hoarsely; no, I swear that is not so. He is neither husband, nor even friend. Though my uncle, he is unworthy the name of relation. I am unfortunately in his thrall, and dare not disobey his will. To do so would mean
What? tell me.
Impossible. The longer I live the more I learn to hate his presence. Ah, if you could but know!
There was an intensity of bitterness in that utterance, a flash in her clear dark eyes that spoke of a fierce passion. Could it be hatred?
Vera; why not trust me? I implored, taking her hand, and seeking to penetrate the indomitable reserve in which her words were shrouded.
Once and for all, Frank, it cannot be.
Her answer came short, sharp, decisive, firm, yet with ineffable sadness.
Heaven knows! I would willingly share your burden, Vera.
She paused, as if in doubt.
The silence grew painful, and I watched the mobile features which so plainly indexed the passing emotions of her mind. A blush, like that of shame, tinged her cheek and pallid brow as she lifted her face to mine, although her eyes were downcast.
Frank, she said, slowly, will you help me?
With heart and soul, dearest.
Then you can do so. And she drew a deep breath.
How?
She hesitated, wavering even then, as it seemed; and the colour left her cheeks as suddenly as it had appeared.
In a low voice, speaking rapidly and impetuously, she replied:
Briefly, you may learn this. My uncle is my guardian. He has, I believe, appropriated a large sum of money which is mine by right. Ah! I know what you would say. But I dare not prosecute or expose him, for the consequences would be almost beyond conception, and would affect myself more even than him. I am powerless!
But I can help you?
Im afraid you will not consent to what I ask.
What is it? You know I cannot refuse a behest of yours.
A further annoyance, in fact a great danger, threatens me now. My dead mothers jewels on which I place great store, for they are the only souvenir remaining of she whom I dearly loved are now coveted by him. In vain I have besought him to let me keep them, but he is inexorable. To place them with a friend in whom I have confidence is the only course remaining; that friend lives
Yes, where?
At St. Petersburg.
St. Petersburg! I exclaimed, in surprise. Oh! but, of course, it is your home?
It is; or rather was. Had I the opportunity I would convey them there myself, braving the displeasure of my harsh relative and the punishment that would follow. Unhappily I am debarred. To trust the jewels to the post would be too great a risk, and it is only to to such a confidant as you that I can look for assistance.