It was all quite true. The czar had been assassinated. Though he was not
killed outright by the bomb which was thrown under his carriage, it was
known that he was mortally injured, and could not live long. The
messenger who brought the news to Sergius had started from St.
Petersburg to Moscow as soon as the deed was done, being previously
armed with a railway ticket and a passport, and was already on his way
to the frontier, whither it was advisable for all other suspects to
proceed at once, if they would escape the tremendous hue and cry which
would doubtless be raised without delay.
In spite of the fact that I was the associate of conspirators, the news
which elated them horrified me, and I was more than ever convinced that
my rightful avocation lay among scenes of peace and domesticity. It was,
therefore, all the more strange that the whole of my grown-up life so
far should have been one of danger, turmoil and excitement.
Yet, as all things have their limit of prominence in the ever-shifting
kaleidoscope of life, even so would that fever of existence, which is
variously termed “patriotism” and “treason,” cease to influence my daily
being ere long. Such, at all events, was my hope, and I no longer
doubted that Sergius would at once use his utmost endeavors to escape to
England.
But, for a time, it was difficult to obtrude individual interests into
the jumble of excited comment in which the ever-increasing number of
fresh arrivals discussed the tragedy which had taken place at St.
Petersburg, and its probable effects upon the members of the Society.
“I suppose it will be no longer safe to meet here after to-day,” said a
man, whom I heard addressed as Ivan Vassoffskoy, but whom I would not
have recognized as the man whom I had seen with Sergius on that
never-to-be-forgotten night of adventure.
“I do not think it was safe to meet here to-day,” said another, who had
just arrived. “Just as I entered the passage leading round to our secret
entrance I fancied that a man brushed past me, and I feel rather
alarmed.”
“One of ours,” remarked Sergius.
“I think not,” was the reply, which seemed to imbue all the company with
a sense of insecurity. “I challenged him in our usual way, but received
no answer, as must have been the case if he had been one of us.”
“Then why did you come in if you fancied yourself followed?”
“Because I concluded that the ‘house’ was already suspected. I did
retrace my steps for a few yards, but did not succeed in drawing the man
away from the vicinity of the passage. This being the case, I thought it
better to come in, after all, in order to warn you. It is quite possible
that the passage is guarded already, and that everybody emerging from it
will be arrested.”
“You did well, brother,” was the verdict of a tall, imposing man who had
hitherto said little. “I had already begun to doubt the wisdom of
meeting here much oftener, but was anxious to await the great event
before altering our plans. As you all know, that event has taken place,
and, by the terms of our oath, we are no longer a Society, although the
consummation aimed at has been not our work, but the work of our brave
St. Petersburg contingent. I proclaim us morally and patriotically
disbanded, and absolved from all further duty or allegiance to the rules
of our Brotherhood. If, in the future, it becomes necessary to give the
government another severe lesson, you all know how to communicate with
me, if I am still alive and in freedom, and you all know that my sole
aim in life is to avenge the wrongs of the people. Before the setting of
another sun some of us will be on our way to other lands, to seek that
safety and freedom of speech which is denied us here. Some of us may
have fallen into the hands of the tyrants, and have no longer a hope
left. Others, confident that nobody suspects their connection with us,
will continue to live in and about Moscow in comparative security,
pursuing a life of honest toil, and always ready to afford an asylum to
a patriot. But, whatever be the fate in store for us, we have nothing to
reproach ourselves with, unless it be that our fight for God and our
right has not been drastic enough.”
All the details of this conversation were fully explained to me by
Sergius some days later, when it was no longer dangerous to speak even
in whispers, as was the case while we were flying toward the frontier.
But although I had not understood all that was said, I had gathered
enough to know that our situation was already one of extreme peril, and
I own that I felt terribly alarmed. I was also angry with myself for my
husband’s sake, for I was sure that my presence could not fail to hamper
his escape from Moscow. But I was not a little surprised to see how
stoically all these dangerous conspirators received the news that their
arrival had been watched, and that their exit was probably cut off by an
outraged government at whose hands they would find little mercy.
This seeming mystery was, however, soon explained. There were, on the
upper landing, and partly within the four rooms whose doors opened on to
this landing, over twenty people present, none of whom appeared in the
cloaks and dominos which had imparted such an awful solemnity to their
meeting when I was taken captive by them. This, Sergius told me
afterward, was because they knew that the catastrophe at St. Petersburg
had virtually disbanded them.
“Take off your shoes, Dora,” whispered Sergius. “And don’t be alarmed,
darling. Our danger is not nearly so imminent as you seem to fear. We
have long expected this crisis, and have not allowed ourselves to be
trapped like rats in a hole.”
While Sergius was speaking, he rapidly unlaced his boots and took them
off. Greatly to my amazement I saw that all the other people present
were engaged upon the same task, and I followed the general example,
feeling sure that it would eventually prove to be justified, by reason.
As soon as their noise-producing foot covering was removed, all present
began to throng into the bedroom I had occupied for so short a time.
Some one touched a secret spring in the wainscoting, which noiselessly
yielded to a slight pull given to it by Sergius, and revealed a
cavernous opening into which, with whispered injunctions against making
much noise, first one and then another of the conspirators disappeared
with either boots or shoes in hand. One man fetched a short ladder into
the room, besides a boot and a shoe, which had evidently been previously
in readiness for some special purpose.
Sergius held back until all the others had passed through the secret
door. Then he raised the bedroom window, which was one that opened on to
the roof. His next proceeding was to throw the two shoes some distance
along the flat roofs of the adjoining buildings. Then, leaving the
window open, and the ladder by which he had reached it still standing,
he took my hand and drew me into the space in which our companions were
making cautious and laborious progress. Carefully closing the door
behind us, he stooped for a moment, and I heard a sharp click, as of
breaking metal.
“There,” he said, in a low tone. “It would take pursuers some time to
follow us, for I have broken the spring, and that door will never yield
again to gentle persuasion. Are your shoes all right?”
“Yes, I have them in my hand.”
“And your money and jewelry is already stowed in our pockets. Everything
else you must sacrifice. You are unfortunate with your clothes.”
“Never mind, so long as I have you left. But why did you throw those
shoes out of the window? And why did you leave the window open?”
“To lead probable pursuers off the scent, and induce them to believe
that we have escaped through the window, dropping our shoes in our
hurry. A couple of houses along the flat roof there is an easy means of
descent to the ground, by way of out-house tops, and thence into an
unfrequented back street. It will seem the most natural way in the world
to escape, and while the enemy is following up the false scent we shall
all be making good progress in another direction.”
“But suppose it is a false alarm, after all?”
“Listen!”
I did listen, and no longer hesitated about groping my way into the
darkness beyond. For noises, loud and threatening, penetrated to my
shrinking ears, and told me that the house had already been forcibly
entered. Of course the doors had been locked behind us, and I could hear
that these were being beaten down with heavy weapons.
“Now, silence, for your life!” whispered Sergius. “Trust me to lead you
to safety.”
Not another word was exchanged between us for several minutes, during
which, having crawled on to a sort of shelf, and covered the opening by
means of a spring sliding panel, we found it necessary to crawl for some
distance on all fours, in a stifling atmosphere which threatened to
choke us. But at last this ordeal was also over, and we emerged into
another chamber, similarly arranged to the one by which we had entered
the species of tunnel which we had just traversed.
I was by this time almost exhausted with terror and haste, and was
thankful indeed to be told that the worst danger was now over. But I
exerted myself womanfully to hide the full extent of my distress from
Sergius, and have since felt rather ashamed at times when he has
insisted upon praising my courage and fortitude.
“You may put your shoes on again now,” he said, “and we shall no doubt
find some one in the next room ready to give us a good brushing.”
It was as he said. But it took a good wash, as well as a good brush, to
make us at all presentable, and every requisite facility for furbishing
up one’s toilet was to be found here.
“How strange it seems,” I said, “to have come into such handy quarters.
I understand the comforts of the other end. But these two little rooms
seem to be only used for dressing, and don’t communicate with a bedroom
at all.”
“That is easily explained. We are now actually in a theater, and these
are the manager’s dressing-rooms. He is one of us, and the whole plan of
escape is of his devising. That passage along which we crawled is space
taken from the front upper rooms of three houses that we have crossed.
It was necessary to take off our shoes, in order not to make too much
noise over other people’s heads; but even the chance of betrayal on this
score is practically guarded against, since all these front rooms have
been taken by various members of our Fraternity. They would know what a
scrambling noise overhead meant, but there is a possibility of
antagonistic strangers being sometimes present in some of the rooms, so
we are always as careful as possible. There, now, if you have quite
recovered your breath, we will follow the rest of our friends
downstairs.”
In a few minutes we found our way down staircases along corridors into
what proved to be the manager’s private room, and here the manager
himself was conversing with several of those who had so recently escaped
a mortal danger.
“Ah! here you are, Brother Volkhoffsky,” he said. “Do you think the
alarm has been a false one, or that the flight was unnecessary?”
“If my wife and I had been one minute later,” was the reply, “all would
have been lost. I had only just broken the secret spring, when I heard
loud commands to surrender, while the door was being violently
assailed.”
“Ugh!” shuddered one or two. “It’s as well we’re out of it. But what had
we better do next?”
“I do not think that it would be advisable for any more of you to leave
the theater now,” said the manager. “The police will be watching the
whole neighborhood very carefully just now. You very likely all need
refreshment badly, or will before you have a chance of obtaining any
elsewhere. Four of you shall have some wine and such substantial fare as
I have already provided, while the rest walk boldly on to the stage. You
must refresh yourselves in relays of four. I don’t want too many people
in this room at once, as we are likely to be interrupted at any moment,
and my advice is that you spend as short a time here as is consistent
with a substantial meal, which I again warn you will be needed. I will
give you all part of some play to masquerade on the stage with, and if
any prying spies intrude, you will be supposed to be rehearsing for
to-night’s performance. As evening approaches, the theater will be
lighted up, and before the real artists arrive you must so dispose
yourselves as to be able to join the audience unobtrusively. You will
then be comparatively safe, as no one will imagine that people who know
the police to be on their track would spend the evening listening to a
comic opera, thus apparently wasting valuable time. After the play is
over, you can emerge with the crowd, and go your several directions in
comparative safety. After that it will be each one for himself, and the
God of nations for us all. And now, my friends, I have my daily duties
to perform, and must attend to them at once, if I would avoid the curse
of suspicion. So good-by, and may our unhappy country be no more under
the necessity of fighting against those whose duty it is to help instead
of to oppress!”
This wish was fervently echoed by the rest of those present. There was a
solemn ceremony of handshaking, and then the Society which had exacted
such a horrible duty from my husband was disbanded forever, although
many of its members found it advisable to follow the manager’s advice
and abide in the theater until after the evening performance. Sergius
and I were of the number; and, greatly to our relief, the tickets and
passports with which Sergius was already provided were accepted at the
railway stations without suspicion.
Our journey to the frontier, although desperately fatiguing, proved
uneventful, and when, having traveled by the Brest-Litovsk route, we
found ourselves in Berlin, we felt able to express to each other without
fear our thankfulness at our escape. In Berlin we stayed for a couple of
days, to take much needed rest, and to replenish our shabby and scanty
wardrobe, since we did not care to return to England with nothing but
the clothes we stood up in.
There was no need for Sergius to sell any of our jewelry to provide
ready money. He was well supplied with cash, and had this not been so he
could have drawn upon a Berlin banker whom he knew.
A couple of days later we presented ourselves, somewhat travel-worn, but
otherwise in good health, at the house of Prince Michaelow, in
Kensington, and I shall never forget the delighted astonishment with
which he and Nina welcomed us “home” again.
“Thank God!” said the former. “We never expected to see either of you
alive again.”
“You see, I fetched him home,” I said to Nina, and I hardly know whether
smiles or tears most prevailed as I received my friend’s enraptured
caresses.
“I can’t think how you have managed so beautifully,” said Nina; “unless,
indeed, you only went part of the way.”
“We went all the way, and Dora has gone through all sorts of terrible
adventures with no end of pluck,” asserted Sergius.
“It’s just wonderful! After the news of that horrible assassination
reached England, I felt sure you were both doomed,” said Nina, with a
shudder, accompanied by another hug. “But how did you escape so easily?”
“Perhaps we had better defer explicit particulars for a little while,”
interposed Prince Michaelow. “I am thinking that one never knows what
may happen, and that it will be as well not to betray the fact of your
having been in Russia again to any one. I suppose you were in St.
Petersburg?”
This was said so significantly that I knew what awful thing he was
hinting at, and at once exclaimed: “No, thank Heaven! Sergius has been
no further than Moscow. _That_ was done without him.”
“I am so thankful!” chimed in Nina. “Of course, I feel for the people.
But it is an immense relief to me to know that none of my friends have
killed the poor, misguided man.”
“You see,” said the prince, “we shall never be able to make true
patriots of our wives. They are too English for that. But how will this
affect your future?”
“I am just as much absolved from further duty as if mine had been the
hand which threw the bomb. Our Society is disbanded, and will never be
reorganized on the same lines. While still a member of it, I was
resolved to fulfill the terms of my oath to the letter. But that sort of
work does not suit me, and though I long for the regeneration of my
country, I am now convinced that violence on the part of secret
societies can never cure the evils we deplore.”
“Then you are not likely to join another secret society?”
“Never! My political career is over. I cannot sympathize with the
government. I may not work openly in the interests of the people. And I
will not lend myself again to secret plotting. This much I have already
told Dora. But she does not know yet that I have resolved never to
return to Russia. Henceforth my life is devoted to her happiness and
comfort.”
This was indeed glorious news, which helped me to throw off the last
talon of the incubus of dread, and speedily recover the happiest spirits
imaginable. We decided to adopt the prince’s advice, and to say nothing
to any one about having been elsewhere than on our originally projected
wedding-tour. We had returned within the time expected, and I for one
would not have put it in Belle’s power to betray the fact that Sergius
was in Russia when the czar was assassinated.
So we duly took possession of our own beautiful house; and then, as I
really longed to see Lady Elizabeth and Jerry, we went down to the
Grange, to pay a visit which my father had strongly urged us to pay.
And how different this journey to Moorbye was to the last one! Then I
was lonely, unloved, miserable and homeless. Now I was the possessor of
everything that goes to make life happy. And yet only a few months had
elapsed between the two visits. Early summer had but given way to late
autumn. Certainly, many events had been crowded into a short space of
time. Nevertheless, it was nothing short of wonderful that such results
should have sprung so rapidly from the ashes of what I had deemed an
almost incurable grief.
I could not complain of my reception, for all but Belle greeted me with
warmth, and I was positively thankful that she held aloof from me. I was
also glad that no one witnessed our meeting. She had kept her room, when
we first arrived, on the plea of a headache, to which I inwardly gave
the name of envy. For, knowing the superiority of Sergius to the Earl of
Greatlands, and thoroughly understanding Belle’s envious nature, I knew
that my good fortune could but be a very bitter pill for her to swallow.
We encountered each other in the corridor, when I was on my way to the
dressing-room assigned me, and it was characteristic of the nature of us
both that we merely bowed when we saw each other. There was no sisterly
kiss. Not even a handshake. Apparently there was to be an armed truce
between us, and Belle’s first words prepared me to understand that she
hated me as much as ever.
“So,” she said, drawing her superb figure up to its full height, and
looking scornfully at me, “you have managed to secure a title, after
all! Had you lived in the middle ages you would have been burned as a
witch, for nobody would have believed that you used aught but magic arts
to ensnare your victims. And you have not shown much decency, either, or
you would not have married so soon after—”
Here Belle, callous and hardened as she was, paused for a moment, and I
finished the sentence for her in a manner she little expected.
“Since the death of _your_ victim,” I said, now feeling as relentless as
she was herself. “Take care how you goad me, or I may be tempted to
betray your secrets. For I know everything, and one word from me could
shatter your castle of cards. While I am at it I will tell you something
else. Not long ago you deliberately meditated my removal by the same
means which made your fiancé an earl. Take care how you attempt to
repeat such experiments. I am not the only one in the secret. But it
will be safely kept, if you behave yourself, for the sake of others, who
would suffer by your downfall. I hardly need hint that you would
precipitate that downfall by any attack upon my life, since I am less
likely to die unavenged than the poor old earl. And now I have only one
stipulation to enforce. You must henceforth be civil and polite to me
and mine. In return I will refrain from ever alluding to this wicked
business again. The possessors of your secret are as anxious to guard it
as if they were alike guilty with you.”
Had Belle been struck into stone she could not have been more rigid than
she was. Her face petrified with horror, and her eyes betrayed the
consciousness of guilt. She made no attempt to interrupt me. But the
look of relief which overspread her face when I reassured her that her
secret was safe showed me that she thoroughly understood the meaning of
every word I said, and convinced me that I need fear no further insults
from her in future. I had not meant thus openly to confront her with her
own wickedness. But her insults stung me to it, and my words certainly
had the effect I desired.
When, shortly afterward, I joined the others in the dining-room, there
was ample balm for my wounded feelings. My father, having got over the
pique which he had first felt on discovering that I was capable of
carving my own fortunes, and that I was not inclined to eat humble pie,
was becoming quite cordial with me, and had evidently come to the
conclusion that there must be something in me, after all, since others
seemed to appreciate me so highly. As for Sergius, it was impossible to
resist him, and there was every evidence that Mr. Courtney was already
feeling very proud of his new son-in-law.
Lady Elizabeth was looking much better, and plied me with a great many
questions relative to my early Russian adventures. “I have missed you
very much,” she said. “But I have not felt so anxious about you as might
have been the case had you been less energetic and self-reliant.
Besides, you knew that I loved you, and I expected you would apply to me
at once, if you were in need of money. I also thought that, as the
friction was connected with Belle, you would return to us as soon as she
was married. But I never dreamed that you would be the possessor of a
wealthy husband and a title. Certainly, in your case, it has been proved
that it is better to be born lucky than rich. I wonder what Belle thinks
of it. She has never said anything to me. She knows I would not listen
to a word against you. But I hope she does not mean to be rude, or that
her headache is not a mere pretext to avoid you.”
“You need have no fear,” I replied confidently. “I met Belle in the
corridor, and received her congratulations. I think she means to let
bygones be bygones as much as possible now. I daresay she felt that she
had sufficient cause to be ill-natured before. And, you know, she must
have been awfully disappointed when she found she was not to live at the
castle.”
“You said some strange words that morning,” said Lady Elizabeth, sinking
her voice to a whisper. “The thought of what they implied has almost
killed me. The whole affair was so dreadful that I did not know what to
think. Do you still—”
“Mother,” I interrupted hastily, “for Heaven’s sake, pay no more heed to
the ravings of a grief stricken girl. It was unfortunate for us all that
your brother should have gained his title under such tragic
circumstances. But pray do not think that anything but nature interfered
with my wedding. It served me right. I was selfish and headstrong, and
ought to have remembered how cruelly Belle was disappointed. It was a
shame to say wicked things of her besides.”
“Oh, Dorrie! how thankful you make me. I have of late begun to think it
impossible that either Cyril or Belle would stoop to criminality. It was
too awful to believe. Now that you are also convinced, I feel thoroughly
happy. And how nice you are looking, too! You have such pretty hair, and
such a fine complexion. Your figure, too, since you have become less
thin, is as good as Belle’s own. Your father remarked a little while ago
that it was wonderful what an amount of good looks you were developing.”
“I believe I am too happy and well-cared for ever to recover my former
perfection of ugliness.”
“Now, Dorrie,” chimed in another voice, “it’s really too bad of you. You
don’t seem to be able to spare me a minute. I don’t believe you are half
so jolly as you used to be.”
“Why, Jerry!” I said, kissing him affectionately. “Didn’t I talk with
you nearly all the way from the station? And didn’t I discover what a
little fraud you are, for you couldn’t answer my most simple French
questions? And haven’t you taken possession of Sergius ever since?”
“Yes, to be sure. I forgot that. But, oh my! isn’t he a brick? He’s
given me a sovereign, and he’s going to buy me the jolliest pony he can
get, so that I can have plenty of riding in the holidays.”
Just at this juncture Mr. and Mrs. Garth, who, it seems, had been
invited to dine with us, arrived on the scene, and there was a
considerable amount of congratulating and handshaking. Then Belle came
down, looking as quietly elegant and beautiful as ever, though perhaps a
shade paler. She was very gracious when introduced to Sergius, and
impressed every one very favorably by her brilliant conversation and
ready wit.
Both my father and Lady Elizabeth looked very happy and contented, and
the evening was spent sociably and harmoniously. There was only one
cankerous secret hidden beneath the smiling surface of family unity. But
that was to be buried forever, I devoutly hoped.
“What a pity Greatlands isn’t here,” said my father, some time after we
had all adjourned to the drawing-room. “I’m sorry business kept him in
town this week. You see, Volkhoffsky, he is doing the thing in style,
and is very busy making all necessary preparations for next week’s grand
event. Yes, one week more, and then Belle, too, will have passed the
portals of matrimony.”
Yes, one week more, and the final scene in this life-drama will have
been played. One turn more of Fortune’s wheel, and we will ring the
curtain down upon these reminiscences of an ugly girl’s life.
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