_Early morning, May 31st._
There are only a few hours left before A. D. and I shall be married
but I won’t try to write a word about how wonderfully happy I am, for
there is so much to put down! Something most extraordinary happened.
The Prince has been bothering me since we reached New York, by
calling at the door and sending in the most imperative messages. But I
refused flatly to see him, though Aunt maintained that he would
explain everything to all of us in a perfectly satisfactory manner.
Poor Aunt, she’s a dear, silly, old thing. I believe she’s actually
been in love with him all the time herself.
But yesterday, the thirtieth, Boris got the better of me. The butler
announced that Sister Beatrice, a nun whom I had known in Rome, wished
to see me. So naturally I told him to admit her, and in walked a
black-robed figure. Imagine my surprise and anger when under the veil
I saw the blue eyes of the Prince. He looked so like a naughty boy
that before I knew it, I laughed.
All of a sudden he became intensely serious and said that he had
really come to take me away, that he worshiped me, that he knew deep
down I loved him, too, that we must take the steamer that evening--the
Carpathia--he had reservations engaged--and that we could be married
on the boat, and he had everything arranged.
I showed him at once that he had made a mistake and ordered him to
go. An ugly vindictive look came over his face and then I realized how
desperate he was. He asked me if I thought he was such a fool as to
leave me in possession of certain information about himself; moreover
he declared he had to have money, that he was at the end of his rope.
I replied that I was sorry but could not help him again, that I might
have given him over to the officials on the train. Then he said
sneeringly I had better go with him, if I put a value on--life, for
instance, that he, a Russian, would stop at nothing. I rang the bell
and when the butler appeared, Boris saw that he had failed, and said,
“You will regret this hour,” and went out. Aunt met him in the hall
and after some whispered conversation, he departed. Later she left the
house. Nor did she come back the entire evening. My exasperating
relative! She had not planned to be at our dinner party, so I wasn’t
alarmed, though anything but jolly. Boris’s uncanny threat was echoing
in my ear amid all the joyousness and excitement and flowers, ringing
of bells and arrival of telegrams of congratulation. When everybody
had gone except A. D. and it was very late--we were sitting together
in the parlor near the front door,--I heard footsteps, and thinking it
must be Aunt returning, I peered out. There was a dark figure that
darted hastily up the front steps, apparently left a package and ran
swiftly down the street and out of sight. A premonition told me
something was wrong and that we were in danger. A. D. dashed out to
investigate.
“What’s this?” he said, picking up a box in the vestibule. Inside was
a ticking noise like an alarm clock.
“Maybe something the Prince sent,” I gasped. “He threatened to do
something desperate.”
“Run!” A. D. shouted and began to strip off the wrappings. Quick as a
flash he rushed into the house, out into the pantry, and dropped the
package into a pail of water. “A bomb--I’ve fixed it,” he told me,
“and it’s as harmless now as a plain box of gunpowder. But it was a
close call, the thing was set for one o’clock.” Just as we looked at
each other, the hall clock chimed once. A. D. caught me in his arms. I
laughed hysterically, and he asked, “Is it to be shown with the other
wedding gifts?”
We both went rather shakily into the parlor, but at that very moment,
Checkers came in, his face quite pale and sober. “Look what I found in
my room!” he said. It was a note from Aunt, saying that Boris and she
were going to elope, that she had always loved him and knew they would
be happy. “Scandalous!” he declared, “and what are we going to do
about it?”
“He’s a worse scoundrel even than I thought,” said A. D.
“Checkers, it’s up to you to stop her. Take a taxicab to the steamship
dock as quick as you can get there. Carpathia!” I shouted.
Checkers hurried out of the house while A. D. stayed on to comfort me
and talk over the next step we could take in case Checkers was too
late, and what people would say about the whole thing. At two o’clock
there was no word, and calling up the dock by telephone, we found that
the Carpathia had sailed at exactly one-thirty. Then I made A. D. go,
and went sorrowfully up to bed, but not to sleep, hoping that nothing
had happened to my twin.
Nor did he come back for hours. Finally, when it was almost daylight,
there was a tap at my door and Checkers tiptoed in and began, “I found
Aunt but she wouldn’t listen to me when I got to the dock. No go! She
wouldn’t budge and Boris was pouring out a torrent of Russian that
sounded to me like a bunch of fire crackers. The steamer sailed and I
stayed on board, still arguing. Finally I told Boris I’d hand him over
to the captain on any one of half a dozen charges that would put him
behind the bars till he was ninety. He gave me an ugly look and slunk
off,--I don’t know where for we didn’t see him again. Fortunately they
had not succeeded in getting a clergyman to marry them. At last Aunt
consented to return with me on the pilot boat on condition that
neither of us would ever mention Boris’s name to her again.”
“Where is she now?” I asked.
“Gone into her room and shut the door. Poor defiant old dame. Polly,
she’s ashamed of herself!” And Checkers went off to bed to make up his
lost sleep.
I shall try to forget the Prince too if I can, but he’s a strange,
fascinating and wicked person. Somehow I feel our paths will touch
again some day, and I have deep down in my heart a pagan yearning to
show him up in his real colors.
But that’s the end of it for now. A. D. will be with me soon. We’ll
forget our troubles and be happy. Let the Prince go hang, for we love
each other.
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