Though I had been in London nearly two months I had heard nothing of
Vera, and her explanation of my imprisonment, as promised by the
Cossack, had not been made.
I had some misgivings, it is true, for I could not help feeling that,
having used me to execute her strange commission, she would trouble me
no further; and as the days went by, and I received neither letter nor
visit, my conviction was strengthened that such was the case.
A wet, cheerless night, one of those soaking rains with which dwellers
in the metropolis are too well acquainted. Business London had brought
a day's work to a close, the 'buses were filled to overflowing, the
shops were putting up their shutters, and the strings of dripping
humanity waiting at pit doors of theatres were anathematising the
management of places of amusement for not opening earlier, as a hansom
deposited Nugent and myself before the Gaiety Theatre, where a new
burlesque was that night to be produced.
A contrast to the rain and mud outside was the interior of the theatre.
Warm, bright, and comfortable, were stalls and boxes, filled with "fair
women and brave men," the bright dresses and glittering jewels of the
former contrasting well with the dull red shade with which the place was
decorated and adding a brilliancy and luxury to the whole. The
production of the piece had long been talked of, and the event had the
effect of bringing together a number of professional first-nighters and
leading lights of the literary and musical world, not forgetting the
fair sprinkling of Bohemians who are always the welcome guests of the
management on such occasions.
Soon after we had found our stalls the conductor's _baton_ waved, the
overture was played, and the curtain rose.
The first act had concluded when I stood up to nod to several people
present whom I knew, and in casting my eyes around the boxes I was
attracted to one in which sat a young and handsomely dressed lady,
alone. As I looked, our eyes met.
It was Vera!
Apparently she had been watching me, for with a pleasant smile of
recognition, she beckoned me with her fan.
At that moment Bob noticed her, and nodding towards her, whispered, "By
Jove! old fellow, who'd have thought of meeting the fair Russian? The
world isn't so large, after all. Shall you go up and speak?"
I glanced upwards in hesitation. She was leaning from the box, the
diamonds in her hair flashing under the gaslight, and she beckoned
anxiously. This decided me, and I went in search of her, with a
feeling--half of the old love, and half of a newly-born distrust.
I was not long in finding her box, and as I entered, her maid, who was
her only companion, went out.
Retiring into the shadow, so as not to be observed by the people below,
she stretched forth her hand and, with a glad smile, exclaimed, "At
last, Frank--_quel plaisir_!"
I drew back, and was ungallant enough not to take the proffered hand,
for had I not been duped by her and nearly lost my liberty and life?
"Ah!" she said in a hoarse whisper, "it is as I expected, Frank--we are
no longer friends."
"Why should we be?"
"I know I am unworthy a thought, having acted as basely as I did; but it
was not my fault. It could not be avoided," she said, casting her eyes
to the floor.
"And that is the way you reciprocate my affection! You send me upon an
errand so dangerous that it nearly costs me my life!" I remarked,
bitterly.
"No, no! Do not judge me harshly," she pleaded, laying her hand upon my
coat-sleeve, and looking into my face imploringly. "Wait until I can
explain before you condemn me. I know you think me a scheming,
cold-hearted adventuress; perhaps I was when I met you; but now--it is
different."
"Vera," I said, endeavouring to be firm, "it pains me, but I must put an
end to this interview. I was foolish to seek you thus, but it was only
to confront you for the last time that I obeyed. I have loved you
fondly, madly, but you have--there--I could never trust you again; so,
for the future, we must be as strangers."
"You are cruel, Frank," she said, the tears welling in her eyes. "It is
merciless of you not to hear my version of the matter, although I own
appearances are much against me. The vilest criminal is allowed to make
a defence; surely you will not debar me from it!"
She looked beseechingly at me, her face blanched and betraying the
struggle going on within.
"But you cannot tell me here," I said, somewhat softened by her
repentance.
"No; my uncle will be out to-morrow evening, come to me then," she
replied, producing a visiting card, upon which she scribbled an address.
"We are living at Richmond. If you cannot come, may I meet you?"
Taking the card, I said, "Very well, you shall explain matters if you
wish. I will call to-morrow."
"_Do_," she implored; "I am sure I shall be able to satisfy you that I
am not so very much to blame."
We then shook hands and parted, for the orchestra having finished
playing, the curtain had risen, and the theatre was too quiet to allow
further conversation.
I returned to my seat, but on glancing up five minutes afterwards, saw
that Vera was not in her box, and concluded that the burlesque had no
longer any attraction for her.
Nugent's inquiries after her health and well-being I answered
satisfactorily, though I, myself, could not sit out the play, and
returned home long before it was over.
I need not dwell upon the fearful suspense and mental torture in which
that night was spent. Suffice it to say it was a period that seemed
interminable, for my heart was racked by an intensity of emotion which
can scarcely be conceived. The sight of Vera, in all her bewitching
loveliness of old when we passed those happy days at Genoa, had
awakened, with a thousand-fold energy, my love. Deceived as I imagined
myself to have been, the one absorbing passion of my existence had still
lived, in spite of all attempts to smother and subdue it by reason's
aid. One word from Vera, one look from those eyes into my own, had
again laid me a captive at her feet, although I despised--hated--myself
for what seemed mere weakness.
I knew it was a farce to seek an explanation, for, whatever it might be,
I was ready to accept it. My heart could not be hardened against Vera.
And then, should she in verity explain the mystery which hung around us
both, that would mean the dawn of better days and brighter hopes.