DORA’S SURPRISE.
Midnight found the night calm, quiet, lovely.
The roaring winds had ceased, and the clouds had been suddenly swept
aside by a master-hand, and the blue-vaulted heavens, studded with their
sparkling gems, looked serenely down upon earth and sea. Our weary
travelers lay wholly unconscious of the change without, their eyelids
heavy with the weight of sleep, and their bodies cumbered with its
powerful influence.
But see! Suddenly their white-draped couch begins to move! Slowly,
silently, steadily, it commences to descend!
Heavens! Will not some one warn those unconscious sleepers? Will not
some one bid them awake, arise, and flee?
Ah! but what could two such defenseless women do against the powers at
work.
They could not escape even should they awake, for the entrance to that
innocent looking white cottage was closely guarded, and none could enter
or retreat without the knowledge and consent of that rough, stern
sentinel!
Reader, you doubtless recognize the place as the same to which Robert
Ellerton was so adroitly enticed and made a prisoner.
The villain who had knocked madam’s faithful driver senseless from his
seat had driven the unsuspecting women back, though by an unfrequented
road, to the German settlement which they had but just left. And now
they were in the power of a band of heartless villains, sleeping as
calmly and sweetly as if no such thing as danger or treachery inhabited
the earth!
Softly, gently as a tender mother would bear her slumbering infant upon
her bosom, their bed descended through the floor, down, down—twenty,
yes, thirty feet, when it was received by four muffled figures and
carefully wheeled to one side of a most gorgeous apartment, which
contained every comfort and luxury that the most fastidious could
desire; after which the trap noiselessly ascended to its place, leaving
no crack or crevice by which its existence could possibly be detected!
Immediately after the four muffled forms silently glided from the room,
leaving our friends to pass the remainder of the night unmolested.
* * * * *
Late the next morning Dora opened her deep blue eyes, and with one fair
hand swept aside the spotless curtain, and gazed out into the room.
An expression of wondering admiration shone in her lovely orbs as she
beheld the splendor, lighted by the many-jetted chandelier, which
surrounded her, and she raised her hand as if to brush away some
imaginary vision; but when she looked again the fair scene remained.
With a breathless voice, and a quickly beating heart, she shook her
aunt, and cried out:
“Auntie, auntie, wake up, and tell me what this means!”
“What, child—what is it?” exclaimed the old lady, in a fright, sitting
bolt upright in bed, and unable to get her eyes open.
“Why, this lovely room!—all these beautiful things! Everything around us
is gorgeous. This is not the room we came into last night. That was
plain and homely, although neat and clean. And—why—but this is the same
bed!”
“Sure enough,” said Madame Alroyd, staring about with an amazed
expression on her face. “We are either bewitched,” she continued, “or
our room has been entered during the night, and we borne off, bed and
all, to another.”
“Oh, auntie, see what lovely pictures and statuettes—and just look at
this lovely toilet set—was there ever anything so exquisite!” exclaimed
the impulsive girl, who had sprung from her couch, and was pattering
about in her little bare feet upon an exploring expedition, and filled
with admiration at everything she saw.
But madam was in a brown study. The change was as unaccountable as it
was lovely, and she was deeply troubled and perplexed. What could be the
motive for this complete transformation?
The design could not have been robbery, for there lay all their luggage
right before them, while her watch and money were snugly tucked beneath
her pillow, just where she had placed them before retiring.
The more she strove to solve the mystery, the more puzzled she became.
But she wisely resolved not to excite Dora’s fears, until she saw
something actually alarming.
At this moment a servant swept aside the heavy curtain which covered the
entrance to the room, and approached. But she suddenly stopped upon
seeing that little white-robed fairy who was flitting about the room,
and a look of honest admiration settled over her face.
Presently she went forward, and said, in a low, sweet voice:
“Can I assist mademoiselle about her toilet?”
Dora gave a little scream of startled surprise, for she had not heard
the girl’s light steps behind her. But seeing that it was not the same
maid who had attended them the previous night, she recovered her
self-possession, and said:
“How you startled me, my good girl! But never mind. Where did you drop
from and what is your name?”
“Nina, at your service; and I came in at the door,” was the reply.
“Well, then, Nina, if that is so—for I did not know but that you had
woke up and found yourself here, like ourselves—please tell me where we
are, for I believe my head is nearly turned with so much beauty and
elegance.”
“I am happy to know that mademoiselle is pleased with her apartments,”
returned Nina, evading Dora’s query.
“Apartments? Is there more than one?” questioned Dora, in surprise.
The girl stepped hastily forward, and seizing a heavy tassel, gave it a
vigorous pull, and instantly two huge curtains slid apart, disclosing an
elegant boudoir.
“See!” she said. “This is for your accommodation, too.”
“Oh-o-oh! Auntie, do come and see!” exclaimed the gratified girl, with a
radiant face. Her features clouded again instantly, as she said: “But
you have not yet answered my question; you have not told me where I am.”
She tapped her foot impatiently, while she went on:
“It is all very nice to have these beautiful things at my command. But I
want to know whose hospitality I am enjoying, all unasked. We were not
in this place last night. Whose residence is this?”
There was no retreat. The little maiden’s tone was very imperative, and
there was an indignant sparkle in her blue eyes.
“You are in the palace of his lordship, the Baron Weichel,” answered
Nina, dropping her eyes, while a guilty flush mounted to her brow,
beneath the penetrating gaze of Miss Dupont.
“But how came we here?” interrupted Madame Alroyd, with a sharp glance
at her, as she noted her evident confusion.
“You were brought here by the baron’s own orders, madam.”
“And what authority has he to order us here, I should like to know?”
said the old lady, indignantly. “And another thing I want to have you
explain to me; and that is, how were we brought here during the night
without our knowledge?”
“His lordship arranged all that,” said Nina.
“Well, then, I must say that his lordship is no gentleman, to allow
people to enter a room and remove its sleeping occupants,” returned
madam, with a good deal of asperity.
“No one entered your room to remove you, madam——”
“No one entered our room!” repeated the now angry woman, with hands
upraised in absolute astonishment. “Do you suppose you can make me
believe such an unlikely story as that?”
“No, madam, unless you choose,” was the humble reply.
“I am all out of patience with you. Do, Dora, try and make her explain
this mystery,” urged Madame Alroyd, with a look of perplexity upon her
face.
And Dora, with a charming expression of good nature, which won the
servant’s heart at once, went up to her and said, sweetly:
“Now, Nina, please to dress my hair; and, in the meantime, tell us all
you know about this singular transportation during the night. You must
realize that it is a very trying situation to us.”
Dora seated herself, and the girl went to work, with nimble and willing
fingers, to bind up and arrange her abundant golden tresses; and after a
few moments’ hesitation, replied:
“Mademoiselle must excuse me, for I cannot answer her question.”
“Why not?” asked Miss Dupont, with a pout upon her red lips.
“Because—because the chief—I mean his lordship—will do that,” stammered
Nina, in confusion.
Dora was startled from her seat by a sharp shriek from her aunt, who
sprang frantically from the bed, wringing her hands, and exclaiming:
“The chief! the chief! Do you hear, Dora?—the chief! Oh, heavens! we are
in the hands of a band of robbers—in the hands of those awful smugglers
that we heard about at the hotel! I see it all now—the trouble with the
horses, their plunging and rearing; that dreadful noise as of some one
falling; the unnatural tones of the driver, which was not Thomas at all!
All—all is as plain as day to me now. Oh, Dora, Dora, my darling, we are
lost!”
Dora, with a pale face, turned to Nina, and demanded sternly:
“Girl, what have you to say? Is what my aunt suspects the truth?”
“Ah! pardon, pardon, mademoiselle, but I dare not tell!” cried the poor
girl, with streaming eyes and clasped hands, for she was touched to the
heart with their cruel distress.
“It is enough!” answered our heroine, her very lips becoming white as
marble, and her heart sinking with despair at what she imagined their
fate would be. Then suddenly assuming a haughty, defiant air, she added,
“Go at once and tell your chief that I desire his presence immediately!”
“Oh, my lady, do not blame poor Nina, for she would gladly serve you if
she could. But my lot is that of a slave here, and I dare not disobey,
lest my life pay the forfeit. Were it not for my own dear mistress, I
would gladly die.”
“What!” almost shrieked Dora, “are there others here, in the same
situation with ourselves?”
“Ah, mademoiselle, there are seven as lovely ladies here as ever the sun
shone upon.”
“Oh, heavens! and how long have they been held captive in such a place?”
“Some have been here three or four years; some not as long, but one has
lived here many years. But I must not tell you more, lest I be
overheard; only do not blame me for what you suffer,” she entreated,
heaving a deep sigh.
“My poor child!” said Madame Alroyd, soothingly, while a shudder
quivered through her frame. “We cannot regard you with any other feeling
than that of pity. And rest assured, should kind Providence send friends
to our rescue, we will not forget you and your poor mistress.”
The grateful girl seized her hand and kissed it passionately, and
immediately glided from the room.
The two terror-stricken ladies then made a hasty toilet, and sat down
with fear and trembling, to await the appearance of the much dreaded
chief.
Presently Nina returned and said:
“The chief desires that you will partake of your breakfast, which is
waiting; after which your request shall be attended to.”
She parted another set of curtains, and revealed beyond an elegant
breakfast-room, in which a table was daintily spread for two.
Dora walked proudly within, without uttering a word in reply. Madam
timidly followed, and they seated themselves, going through the ceremony
of eating, being attentively waited on by the faithful girl.
When the repast was ended, Nina seized a tiny silver whistle that lay
upon the table and blew it, and instantly a page entered and removed the
service, followed by the girl.
Not many minutes elapsed, and Dora saw the drapery which hid the
entrance move; then there was a sound, as of persons whispering.
She held her breath—she felt that the decisive moment had arrived.
A fair, white, shapely hand parted the curtains; a trim, finely formed
foot was upon the threshold, and for an instant our heroine’s head grew
dizzy, while a mist vailed her eyes; but with a mighty effort she
conquered the faintness, and drew her queenly little form to its fullest
height, and waited for the appearance of her dreaded visitor.
The drapery was swept entirely aside, and a cry of indignant surprise
parted her lips as she fixed her eyes upon the figure before her.