_Out of the Past_
But circumstances afterwards made it impossible for Nona Davis to follow
the young Russian officer's advice.
A week went by at the hospital without a decision on the girl's part
and without another word from her former friend. Sonya Valesky she must
remember was her Russian name. A beautiful name and somehow it seemed
to fit the personality of the woman whom Nona at once admired and
distrusted. For the name carried with it its own suggestion of beauty
and of melancholy. What secret could Sonya Valesky be concealing that
forced even her friends to warn others against her?
Of course there could be no answer in her own consciousness to this
puzzle, yet Nona kept the problem at the back of her mind during the
following week of strenuous work. Nursing inside the bleak fortress
at Grovno was of a more difficult character than any work the three
American Red Cross girls had yet undertaken. The surroundings were so
uncomfortable, the nursing supplies so limited. Worse than anything
else, an atmosphere of almost tragic suspense hung like a palpable
cloud over every inmate of the fort.
Authentic news was difficult to obtain, yet refugees were constantly
pouring in with stories of fresh German conquests in Poland. For it
chanced that the months after the arrival of the three American girls in
Russia were among the darkest in Russia's history during the great war.
Military strategists might be able to understand why the Grand Duke
Nicholas and his army were giving way before almost every furious German
onslaught. They could explain that he was endeavoring to lead the enemy
deeper and deeper into a foreign land, so as to cut them off from their
base of supplies. Yet it was hard for the ordinary man and woman or the
common soldier to conceive of anything except fresh danger and disaster
in each defeat.
So day after day, night after night the business of strengthening the
line of fortifications at Grovno went on. The work was done with the
silence and the industry of some enormous horde of ants.
Shut off in the left wing of the fort with the ill and wounded soldiers,
the Red Cross nurses had only occasional glimpses of the warlike
preparations that were being made. Once when there was a review of the
troops in the courtyard behind the fortifications Mildred Thornton
summoned Nona and Barbara. She had already told them of her experience
with the commanding officer of the fort, but she wished the other two
girls to have a look at him. It was difficult to get a vivid impression
of a personality from a bird's-eye view out of a small upper window. Yet
the figure of General Alexis could never be anything but dominating.
There was a hush of admiration from every man or woman inside the
fortifications whenever their leader's name was mentioned. If he could
not hold the German avalanche in check, then the world must weep for
Russia. So Mildred became a kind of heroine among the nurses because
she had received a few moments of the great man's praise and attention.
Finally, at the end of a week Nona Davis had a second letter from Sonya
Valesky. It was sent by a messenger, as the other had been, and Nona was
presented with it when she first went on duty on one Saturday morning.
This communication was not merely a note, however, for the envelope was
sealed and had a bulky appearance. Yet Nona did not open it all that day
or the morning of the next as she had a premonition that the letter was
not an ordinary one. Either Madame Valesky was confiding her own
history, or she was insisting upon proving to the American girl that
she had at one time been a friend of her mother's. Really, it was this
information that Nona both expected and feared. So as she had a
particularly difficult case on hand she decided to wait for more
leisure before trying to solve the mystery.
The opportunity came when she was allowed two hours rest on Sunday
afternoon.
Nona was glad that both Mildred and Barbara were busy at the time,
because she preferred to be alone. After her letter had been read and
considered then she could decide on the degree of her confidences.
But after all, Barbara's prediction came true. The story that Sonya
Valesky had to tell of her acquaintance with Nona's mother was not half
so strange as the fact that the mother's history had been concealed from
her daughter.
The story was unique but comparatively simple. The only curious fact was
the accidental meeting between the Russian woman and the American girl.
But then just such comings together of persons with a common bond of
interest or affection is an hourly occurrence in the world. Behind such
apparent accidents is some law of nature, a like calling unto like.
The older woman explained that she had known Nona's mother many years
ago when they were both children in Russia, although she was a number of
years younger. There was as little as possible of Sonya Valesky's own
history in the letter. She stated without proof or comment that her
father had once been Russian Ambassador to the United States. Here Anna
Orlaff, Nona's mother, had made her a visit and had then gone away south
to New Orleans and soon afterwards married. For many years the younger
girl had not seen her friend again. She had received letters from her,
however, and learned that her marriage was not a success.
Sonya Valesky did her best to explain the situation to Nona. But how was
she to know how much or how little an American girl understands of life
and conditions in Russia? Was Nona aware that there were many girls and
young men, oftentimes members of noble families, who believed in a new
and different Russia?
Had Nona ever read of a great writer named Tolstoi, who wrote and
preached of the real brotherhood of man? He insisted that the words of
Christ should be interpreted literally and desired that Russia, and
indeed the world, should have no rich and poor, no Czar and slave, but
that all men and all women were to be truly equal. Nona's mother had
been a follower of Tolstoi's principles; therefore, her people had sent
her away from her own country because they feared if she continued to
live in Russia with these ideas she might be condemned to Siberia. So
Anna Orlaff had gladly left her own country, believing that in the
United States she would find the spirit of true equality.
Naturally her marriage had been a disappointment. At this point in Sonya
Valesky's letter, Nona Davis began to have a faint appreciation of the
situation. She remembered the narrow, conservative life of the old south
and that her father had lived largely upon traditions of wealth and
family, teaching her little else. What did it matter to him that there
were no titles in America, no more slaves to do his bidding, when he
continued to believe in the domination of one class over another.
Dimly at first, more vividly afterwards, Nona Davis could see the
picture of the young Russian girl, a socialist and dreamer, married into
such an environment. How disappointed and unhappy she must have been in
the conservative old city of Charleston, South Carolina! No wonder
people had never mentioned her name to her daughter, and that her father
had been so silent! A Russian socialist was little less than a criminal.
Nona was seated in a hard wooden chair in a small, cell-like room many
thousands of miles away from her own old home. Certainly something
stronger than her own wish must have drawn her to Russia, for here she
must learn to understand the story of her mother's life and to find her
own place in it.
At this point in the narrative Nona let her letter fall idly in her lap.
The girl's hands were clasped tightly together, for now her imagination
could tell her more than any words of another's.
Her father had been devoted to her, but he had not been fair, neither
had his friends nor her own. Why had they always led her to believe by
their silences that there was something to be ashamed of in her mother's
story? It was odd, of course, to be different from other people, but
there was no sin in being a dreamer.
Nona could see the picture of her mother in the white muslin dress and
the blue sash there in their old drawing room in Charleston. She had
been only a girl of about her age when she remembered her.
But then what had become of her mother? Why had she gone away?
Again the girl picked up her letter, for the last few sheets must
explain.
This portion was hardest of the story to understand, but Sonya Valesky
had tried to make it clear.
Nona's father had insisted that his young wife give up her views of
life. She was to read no books, write no letters, have nothing to do
with any human being who thought as she did. Above all, she was to make
him a written and sacred promise that she would never reveal her ideas
of life to her daughter. This Nona's mother had refused to do and so had
gone away, expecting to come back some day when her husband relented.
Within a year she had died. But here Sonya Valesky's letter ended, for
she enclosed another written by Nona's mother to her friend.
If Nona had needed proof of the truth of the other woman's statement she
could find it here. The letter was yellow with age and very short. It
merely asked that if Sonya Valesky should ever find it possible to know
her daughter, Nona Davis, would she be her friend?
Then Sonya had also enclosed another proof, if proof were needed. This
was a small picture of Nona's mother which was exactly like the one the
girl had found concealed in the back of her father's watch. It was the
same watch with the same picture that she now wore always inside her
dress.
Then for nearly an hour the young American girl sat dreaming almost
without a movement of her body.
Little by little she recalled stray memories in her life which made her
mother's history appear not so impossible as she had at first conceived.
Always she had thought of her as foreign. She had only believed her to
be French because she spoke French so perfectly and had married in New
Orleans. But then she herself was beginning to learn that educated
Russians are among the most accomplished linguists in the world. What
else was she to find out about this strange country before her work as
a nurse was over? Could she ever feel so entirely an American again?
All at once Nona Davis jumped hastily to her feet. There were hundreds
of questions she yearned to ask. Fortunately for her she was near the
one person who might be able to answer them. Sonya Valesky had never
said why she had not sought to find her friend's daughter until their
accidental meeting on shipboard. Even then she had not recognized Nona's
connection with the past. Was it because she was too engrossed in her
own life and her own mysterious mission?
Although she was at this instant engaged in putting on her coat and cap
to go to her, Nona again hesitated. How little the Russian woman had
said of herself! What was she doing here near the Russian line of
fortifications, living like a peasant with only two old peasants in
attendance upon her? And why should the young Russian officer have
warned her against his own friend?
"Michael Orlaff." Automatically Nona Davis repeated the name of her new
acquaintance. "Orlaff." The name was the same as her mother's. Was there
a chance that the young Russian lieutenant might be a possible
connection?
However, the girl recognized that she was stupid to continue to ask
herself questions. Moreover, she had now made up her mind that she must
not distrust Sonya Valesky unless she had a more definite cause.
Doubtless Sonya shared the same views of life that her mother had
cherished! But in any case it was wonderful to have found a woman who
had been her mother's friend and who might still be hers.
Nona had walked across her small room to the door, when she heard some
one knocking.
A summons had been sent for her to return to her nursing, as the two
hours of her recreation were over. How stupid she had been! Actually
Nona had forgotten what had called her to Russia, even the war tragedy
that was raging about her. Of course she could not leave the hospital!
It might be several days or more before she could hope to receive
permission to revisit Sonya.