Having been introduced to Mrs Holbrook--a pleasant-fated old lady in a
white-laced cap with mauve ribbons--I made excuse to "Miss Stebbing" to
leave, and took train a quarter of an hour later back to St Fillans.
From the village post-office I sent an urgent wire to Hartwig to go
again to Lower Clapton, see Danilovitch, explain how Her Highness had
discovered the plot against her, and assure him that if any attempt were
male, proof of his treachery would be placed at once before his
"comrades."
I called at the hotel and inquired for Mr Gregory, but was informed
that he was out fishing. But though I lunched there and waited till
evening, yet he did not return.
So again I took train back to Lochearnhead, and with the golden sunset
flashing upon the loch, climbed the hill path towards Glendevon House--a
nearer cut than by the carriage road.
Suddenly, as I turned the corner, I saw two figures going on before me--
Natalia and Richard Drury. She wore a darker gown than in the morning,
with simple, knockabout country hat, while he had on a rough tweed
jacket and breeches. I drew back quickly when I recognised them. His
arm was tenderly around her waist as they walked, and he was bending to
her, speaking softly, as with slow steps they ascended through the
hill-side copse.
Yes, they were indeed a handsome, well-matched pair. But I held, my
breath, foreseeing the tragic grief which must ere long arise as the
result of that forbidden affection.
Standing well back in the hedge, I gazed after their as with halting
steps they went up that unfrequented Scotch by-way, rough and
grass-grown. Suddenly they paused, and the man, believing that they
were alone, took his well-beloved in his strong embrace, pushed back her
hat, and imprinted a warm, passionate kiss upon her white, open brow.
Perhaps it was impolite to watch. I suppose it was; yet my sympathy was
entirely with them. I, who had once loved and experienced a poignant
sorrow as result, knew well all that they felt at that moment,
especially now that the girl, even though an Imperal Princess, was
compelled to decide between love and duty.
Unseen, I watched them cling to each other, exchanging fond, passionate
caresses. I saw him tenderly push the dark hair from her eyes and again
place his hot lips reverently to her brow. He held her small hand, and
looking straight into her wonderful eyes, saw truth, honesty and pure
affection mirrored there.
They had halted. While the evening shadows fell he had placed his hand
lightly upon her shoulder and was whispering in her ear, speaking words
of passionate affection, in ignorance that between them, alas! lay a
barrier of birth which could never be bridged.
I felt myself a sneak and an eavesdropper; but I assure you it was with
no idle curiosity--only because what I had witnessed aroused within me
the most intense sorrow, because I knew that only a man's great grief
and a woman's broken heart could accrue from that most unfortunate
attachment.
In all the world I held no girl in greater respect than Natalia, the
unconventional daughter of proud Imperial Romanoffs. Indeed, I regarded
her with considerable affection, if the truth were told. She had
charmed me by her natural gaiety of heart, her disregard for irksome
etiquette and her plain outspokenness. She was a typical outdoor girl.
What the end of her affection for Dick Drury would be I dreaded to
anticipate.
Again he bent, and kissed her upon the lips, her sweet face raised to
his, aglow in the crimson sunset.
He had clasped her tenderly to his heart, holding her there in his
strong arms, while he rained his hot, fervent kisses upon her, and she
stood in inert ecstasy.
Soon the shadows declined, yet the pair still stood there in silent
enjoyment of their passionate love, all unconscious of observation. I
drew a long breath. Had I not myself long ago drunk the cup of
happiness to the very dregs, just as Dick Drury was now drinking it--and
ever since, throughout my whole career in those gay Court circles in
foreign cities, I had been obsessed by a sad and bitter remembrance.
She had married a peer, and was now a great lady in London society. Her
pretty face often looked out at me from the illustrated papers, for she
was one of England's leading hostesses, and mentioned daily in the
"personal" columns.
Once she had sent me an invitation to a shooting-party at her fine
castle in Yorkshire. The irony of it all! I had declined in three
lines of formal thanks.
Ah! yes. No man knew the true depths of grief and despair better than
myself, therefore, surely, no man was more fitted to sympathise with
that handsome couple, clasped at that moment in each other's arms.