For ten years Victoria had been waiting for this moment, dreaming of it
at night, picturing it by day. Now it had come.
There was Saidee standing before her, found at last. Saidee, well and
safe, and lovely as ever, hardly changed in feature, and yet--there was
something strange about her, something which stopped the joyous beating
of the girl's heart. It was almost as if she had died and come to
Heaven, to find that Heaven was not Heaven at all, but a cold place of
fear.
She was shocked at the impression, blaming herself. Surely Saidee did
not know her yet, that was all; or the surprise was too great. She
wished she had sent word by the negress. Though that would have seemed
banal, it would have been better than to see the blank look on Saidee's
face, a look which froze her into a marble statue. But it was too late
now. The only thing left was to make the best of a bad beginning.
"Oh, darling!" Victoria cried. "Have I frightened you? Dearest--my
beautiful one, it's your little sister. All these years I've been
waiting--waiting to find a way. You knew I would come some day, didn't
you?"
Tears poured down her face. She tried to believe they were tears of joy,
such as she had often thought to shed at sight of Saidee. She had been
sure that she could not keep them back, and that she would not try. They
should have been sweet as summer rain, but they burned her eyes and her
cheeks as they fell. Saidee was silent. The girl held out her arms,
running a step or two, then, faltering, she let her arms fall. They felt
heavy and stiff, as if they had been turned to wood. Saidee did not
move. There was an expression of dismay, even of fear on her face.
"You don't know me!" Victoria said chokingly. "I've grown up, and I must
seem like a different person--but I'm just the same, truly. I've loved
you so, always. You'll get used to seeing me changed. You--you don't
think I'm somebody else pretending to be Victoria, do you? I can tell
you all the things we used to do and say. I haven't forgotten one. Oh,
Saidee, dearest, I've come such a long way to find you. Do be glad to
see me--do!"
Her voice broke. She put out her hands pleadingly--the childish hands
that had seemed pathetically pretty to Stephen Knight.
A look of intense concentration darkened Saidee's eyes. She appeared to
question herself, to ask her intelligence what was best to do. Then the
tense lines of her face softened. She forced herself to smile, and
leaning towards Victoria, clasped the slim white figure in her arms,
holding it tightly, in silence. But over the girl's shoulder, her eyes
still seemed to search an answer to their question.
When she had had time to control her voice and expression, she spoke,
releasing her sister, taking the wistful face between her hands, and
gazing at it earnestly. Then she kissed lips and cheeks.
"Victoria!" she murmured. "Victoria! I'm not dreaming you?"
"No, no, darling," the girl answered, more hopefully. "No wonder you're
dazed. This--finding you, I mean--has been the object of my life, ever
since your letters stopped coming, and I began to feel I'd lost you.
That's why I can't realize your being struck dumb with the surprise of
it. Somehow, I've always felt you'd be expecting me. Weren't you? Didn't
you know I'd come when I could?"
Saidee shook her head, looking with extraordinary, almost feverish,
interest at the younger girl, taking in every detail of feature and
complexion, all the exquisite outlines of extreme youth, which she had
lost.
"No," she said slowly. "I thought I was dead to the world. I didn't
think it would be possible for anyone to find me, even you."
"But--you are glad--now I'm here?" Victoria faltered.
"Of course," Saidee answered unhesitatingly. "I'm
delighted--enchanted--for my own sake. If I'm frightened, if you think
me strange--_farouche_--it's because I'm so surprised, and because--can
you believe it?--this is the first time I've spoken English with any
human being for nine years--perhaps more. I almost forget--it seems a
century. I talk to myself--so as not to forget. And every night I write
down what has happened, or rather what I've thought, because things
hardly ever do happen here. The words don't come easily. They sound so
odd in my own ears. And then--there's another reason why I'm afraid.
It's on your account. I'd better tell you. It wouldn't be fair not to
tell. I--how are you going to get away again?"
She almost whispered the last words, and spoke them as if she were
ashamed. But she watched the girl's face anxiously.
Victoria slipped a protecting arm round her waist. "We are going away
together, dearest," she said. "Unless you're too happy and contented.
But, my Saidee--you don't look contented."