VERONICA IS SURPRISED
I yielded, and unlocked her all my heart,
Who, with a grain of manhood well resolved,
Might easily have shook off all her snares.
--MILTON.
Vronsky had reluctantly decided, in spite of the young girl's own
wishes, that it would not be well for Veronica to stay at Savlinsky,
all unchaperoned as she was. The Governor's cordial invitation to
Nicolashof must be accepted.
The girl was sensible of a distinct unwillingness to become the guest
of Nadia Stepanovna. But she could not, of course, voice this
sentiment, and obediently submitted, when she had rested an hour at
Vronsky's house and had tea, to take her place, with him and Felix,
in their own tarantasse, with the devoted Max to drive them, and to
be conveyed to the Governor's house.
To Vronsky the drive was most painful. He felt that it would be
inhuman to allow this girl to arrive with no inkling of the blow that
awaited her when she should meet Denzil Vanston. It was in vain that
he told himself that the girl deserved such a fall to her pride--that
he tried to think of her as a heartless jilt, who had spoiled the
best years of his beloved Felix's life, and then deserted him. There
was that in Veronica's face which disarmed him.
He looked from her to Felix, and back again, continually, with his
restless, keen dark eyes. He thought for the fiftieth time what a
pair they would have made. He wondered that Felix did not seem more
broken, more miserable than he did. But he knew the young man's
strength and pride, and concluded that he intended to put a bold
front upon the matter. He who knew him so well could see that he was
laboring under some kind of suppressed excitement; and he could see,
also, that Rona's emotions were on the very brink of being too much
for her. She avoided the eye of Felix, who sat facing her; but her
varying color and expression, the quivering of her mouth, the absent
manner in which she replied to his mild small talk, convinced the
good man that her anxiety to behold her lover safe and well was
extreme. All the drive he was striving anxiously to give her a hint;
but in vain. She had almost the mien of one being driven to
execution, to whom the things of the world were all past; and Vronsky
ended by thinking it unkind and unmanly of Felix to be so openly
reproachful, almost resentful, in his manner towards her.
When they arrived at Nicolashof the old butler told them that the
Governor was out, and the ladies and Mr. Vanston in the garden. They
were shown into the drawing-room, and Felix went out into the garden,
telling the old man that he would find the ladies and bring them in.
This seemed to give Vronsky his opportunity. Before the defaulting
lover appeared, he must give the girl a hint--he must not let her
meet him entirely unprepared for his defection.
But for a while, although the minutes were few, he could not speak.
His throat felt hot and dry, and as though there were a lump in it.
Rona, all unintentionally, came to his rescue, by going to a table
and taking up a photograph of Nadia that stood upon it. "Is this
Miss--is it the Governor's daughter?" she asked.
"It is. She is attractive, you think--eh? What you call very
pretty?"
His quaint accent made the girl smile. "She is beautiful," she
replied, as if grudgingly.
"Her attraction is of the kind that some men find too much--not to be
resisted," he said, hurriedly. "I know but one who gave not a
thought to her. That was my poor, good Felix. His heart was filled
with another--with the image of you, mademoiselle. But his
brother----" he came and stood before Veronica, almost menacingly,
"His brother--yes, it is right that you should know it. His brother
has fallen--in--love with Nadia Stepanovna. You say that, hein?
_Fall-in-love?_"
Veronica smiled a little sadly. "No such luck," was the thought in
her heart. "Yes, that is what we say; but it cannot be what Mr.
Vanston has done," she said, gently. "He is engaged to me, and he
has loved me for two years and more. Besides, we English are
not--not like that. We have our feelings under control.
Particularly English gentlemen, such as Mr. Vanston."
She was really amused. The girl whose picture she held, beautiful as
she undoubtedly was, was hardly Denzil's style. She gazed upon the
sumptuous face, the pouting, childish mouth, the foreign suggestion
given by the drop earrings, the somewhat extravagant arrangement of
the hair. It was, however, quite likely that, Nadia being the only
girl of her class within a thousand miles, she should seem to Vronsky
to be quite irresistible. "I think you are mistaken, Mr. Vronsky,"
she said, very gently. The absolute incredulity expressed by her
face and her voice staggered him.
"Mademoiselle," he urged, appealingly, "I entreat you to believe what
I say. I wish you well. I bear you no grudge, though you have
ruined my boy's life. Young girls have not always the control of
their hearts. But I tell you that those two--Nadia and the
Englishman--are in love--deep in love, the one with the other. Do I
not know? Have I not sat here night after night and watched them?
Do you think a passion like that can be hid?"
There was in his manner an intensity, an urgency, which carried
weight.
"If I did not know that it was true, do you think I would stand here
to stab you with such cruel words?" he vehemently asked her. "It is
that I wish to prepare you--that you obtain a moment's warning--that
when they come in from the garden you have the key of the situation
in your hands."
Veronica turned towards him. It was growing dusk, and in the
half-light her face was very pale. "If it should be true!" she
murmured, with a catch of the breath; and then the notion of how
ridiculous it all was, came over her. She collected herself, and
laughed lightly. "You do not know Mr. Vanston," she said, with an
air of gentle reproof. "I do. He could never feel any deep
admiration for a young lady of this type. He is--he is--well, he is
himself, and I cannot explain what I mean--only I know that what you
think cannot be true." She thought a moment as to how she could best
convince him. "Our ways in England are so different," she kindly
told him. "Our intercourse is so much more free. Mr. Vanston is
accustomed to be as natural in his manner to ladies as he is to his
own sex. That is what makes you think----" she broke off. Felix was
approaching the window across the lawns.
He was walking rapidly, and his face, visible in the fading light,
which was stronger out of doors, showed signs of great agitation.
Veronica, urged by some nameless impulse, went to the window.
Vronsky was in the shadow, and Felix either did not see him or forgot
his existence. He entered precipitately:--
"Rona! Rona! We are free!" he cried, in a transported voice.
"What do you say?" she faltered, suddenly dizzy, and putting both
hands upon his arm to steady herself.
"Denzil has played you false," he broke out, as if the news could not
be withheld. "I found him and her in the garden. He held her in his
arms--he was kissing her! After that--after that--whose is your
allegiance, my beloved?" He caught her two hands, and drew them up
to encircle his own neck, folding her in his arms.
"Felix!" she uttered; and, after a moment's whirling pause, during
which she looked into his kindled eyes, she pleaded, "Let me sit
down. I am faint!"
He supported her with his arms to a chair, in which he placed her;
and was about to kneel upon the floor at her side, when she faintly
said, "Felix! You forget Mr. Vronsky."
"By Jove!" said Felix, wheeling round. "But it doesn't matter. Come
here, old man," he went on, "and hear the good news. Denzil has cut
the knot for us. He has found a way out."
Vronsky, bewildered, said something very volubly in Russian.
"Yes, yes, I know all that," replied Felix, "but we found out the
truth in our five-hundred-mile drive. I was right from the first. I
always knew I was right. But it was natural that Rona should be
bewildered. My brother had been conspicuously good to her, and it is
not uncommon for a very young girl to mistake gratitude for love.
But this is not gratitude--is it, Rona?"
On the last words his voice dropped to a lower key and shook with
intensity. Rona let him take her hand, and with devotion he raised
it to his lips.
"Felix," she urged, almost in a whisper, for she was profoundly
shaken, "we did keep faith, did we not?"
"Thanks to you, not to me, we did," he replied thankfully.
She laughed a little hysterically. "I have just been explaining to
Mr. Vronsky how impossible it all is," she cried. "Of all the women
that I could not imagine Denzil to be in love with.--I always thought
it was you, Felix!"
"It might have been," put in Vronsky. "Felix might have been her
favored suitor, had he so willed."
"That cannot be said, since such a thing was never contemplated by
me," replied Felix, promptly.
"Hush, someone is coming," whispered Rona, suddenly; and Felix rose
with alacrity, as the door was opened, and Miss Forester entered,
followed by two menservants with lamps.
* * * * * * *
She stopped short as soon as the persons present became apparent to
her. "Miss Rawson?" she began, as if bewildered.
Felix stepped forward, to be greeted by her with kind cordiality.
"Miss Rawson has not come. She had an accident--she was ill," he
explained. "This is Miss Leigh, my _fiancée_."
He led Rona across the room, and presented her. "By great good
fortune I found Miss Leigh quite unexpectedly at Gretz, and brought
her on," he said. "The journey was one which she should never have
attempted alone. But she thought my brother was dying."
Rona had recovered her wonted control by now. "Mr. Denzil Vanston
has been like an elder brother to me ever since Felix was obliged to
go away," she explained. "When he telegraphed for us to come to him,
it did not seem to me possible to disregard the message. But I fear
that I have inadvertently given a great deal of trouble, for there is
no inn at Savlinsky where I could stay. Please forgive me. A
telegram sounds so peremptory. When Denzil telegraphed 'Come,' I
concluded that he must have made arrangements for our reception."
"All arrangements are made for your reception, my dear child," said
Miss Forester, warmly. "I tremble to think of your undertaking such
a journey; but what a good thing that Felix met you! And now that
you are safely here, all is well."
She could afford to say, "All is well."
A short week ago it would have been otherwise. The story of the
broken sixpence about the neck of Felix had then been a thorn in her
memory, for she feared that the girl she loved might have to suffer.
But since the coming of Denzil all was changed. She was able to
welcome Rona without reservations, and to feel thankful that the two
girls were not rivals; for, even in her traveling garb, Veronica was
beautiful enough to strike the eye of any unprejudiced person.
"My friend, I congratulate you," said Miss Forester, turning with a
mischievous smile to Felix.
His eyes were upon the face of the woman so incredibly surrendered to
him, and he smiled gravely. He had not yet had time to realize his
happiness--to appreciate what it all meant. The one supreme fact
that Rona loved him was destroying the proportions of everything else.
Vronsky had not spoken since Miss Forester's entrance. He had a
divided heart. He loved Felix, and he was assured of his happiness;
but also he loved Nadia, and wanted to feel secure of hers. At the
moment the steps of the other pair of lovers sounded in the veranda,
and the Governor's daughter, in her white gown, her eyes full of
light, pushed open the window and stepped inside, followed by Denzil.
The Squire's brow was wet with the dews of apprehension. His heart
was in his mouth. What kind of situation was this? He had played
the traitor, and he stood confronted by the two girls--his old love
and his new.
Blindly he had followed Nadia to the house, unable to utter a word of
warning, unable even to own to her that he had seen Felix. He had a
confused idea that nothing that might now happen could be worse than
the expression of his brother's eyes when lately they had met his own.
And behold, that same brother stood just within the room with the
mien of a conqueror, his head high, his glance confident, his mouth
smiling.
"Ah," said Nadia, drawing a long breath, "I told you that they had
arrived--they must have arrived----" She came slowly forward.
"It is delightful to meet again," said Felix, taking her two hands.
"May I present to you my _fiancée_, Miss Leigh?"
Denzil started visibly. It was upon his tongue to cry "No!"
Even as the impulse arose it was smothered. In his dazed condition
he yet took in one point, namely, that apparently the dilemma from
which he shrank existed no longer. He was free to avow himself the
suitor of the Russian girl.
Was not this the summit of his desires?
Nadia smiled rapturously. Snatching her hands from Felix, she held
them impulsively to Rona.
"Oh," said she, "I have wanted so long to see an English girl! And
you are--you are--like the girls in story books, just as Mr. Vanston
is exactly like the men!"
"Why," cried Rona in astonishment, "how well you talk English!"
Over the heads of the two girls the glance of the brothers met.
There was no malice in Felix's steady gaze. He went to Denzil and
took his hand. "It is long since we met," he said, kindly. "Am I to
congratulate you, Denzil?"
The Squire made an effort to speak, but no words came. He licked his
dry lips. Was this some device of his younger brother to torture him?
"Where is Aunt Bee?" he asked, that being the sole non-contentious
remark that occurred to him at the moment.
"Lying up, lame, at St. Petersburg," said Felix. "But you need not
be anxious. I met Veronica at Gretz, and have taken care of her.
She has not felt the journey at all."
Denzil stammered, "That--that was good of you. I--er--feel that I
was inconsiderate to suggest it. Of course, I did not contemplate
her coming alone."
"Naturally," was the calm reply. "If it was an indiscretion on your
part, it was a blessed one for me. I was able to renew my
acquaintance with Miss Leigh, which had been of the briefest, in the
favorable circumstances of a five-hundred-mile _tête-à-tête_; and now
we understand each other perfectly."
As he spoke Nadia and Rona turned to them.
"Look at him," said Nadia, prettily. "He is quite convalescent,
don't you think? Miss Forester and I have done our poor little best
for him."
"He will be all right now," said Rona, extending her hand with a
smile that certainly was unmixed with any resentment, "now that he
knows that Felix is safe and well and--and happy--won't you, Denzil?"
He could not speak. He wrung her hand and turned away, crimson.
Miss Forester was a little surprised, but Nadia thought tenderly of
the Englishman's proverbial taciturnity under pressure of emotion.
These people were heroes and heroines of romance to her.
She flung her arm caressingly about Rona's shoulders and led her from
the room. Miss Forester followed, and the three men were left in a
gulf of silence.
* * * * * * *
It was as though Felix, like some champion of old entering an
enchanted castle, had cut with his sword clean through the many-hued
curtain which shut out the world. The moment his eye and that of his
brother met scales fell from Denzil's sight--the spell was broken: he
emerged, as it were, once more into a life in which men were
responsible for their actions, and wherein gentlemen did not break
faith, however strong the temptation.
What was this magic which had held him chained? Was it love, or
sorcery? He had never asked himself. He only knew that it was too
strong for him. It had blinded him to constancy, to honor, to his
plighted word. He stood aghast at the power of it.
It is one thing to feel; it is quite another to be carried away by
the strength of one's feelings. He still thrilled with the memory of
the scene in the twilight garden; and yet underlying his joy there
was a profound misgiving.
The passion which possessed him was real enough; but he was no boy,
and even as he felt it he knew it could not last. What was worse, he
knew that he did not even wish it to last. He was a steady-going
prosaic person, and he foresaw that he could not dwell continuously
upon the heights to which his infatuation had drawn him.
His present ecstasy was not real life. It was illusion. The moment
he saw Felix he realized this.
What was he to say? And then, in the midst of his confusion, light
leapt to his mind. He had broken plight; but then, so had Rona!
The notion went far to restore his self-respect to him.
"Well," he said, hurriedly, addressing Felix, who stood regarding him
critically, "so Rona changed her mind upon the journey here?"
"As you did upon your arrival," was the instant retort.
Denzil looked crestfallen.
"Rona discovered," went on Felix, "upon the way here, that she had
done what many a very young girl does--she had mistaken gratitude for
love. But, having made this mistake, she was determined to abide by
it, and at all costs to keep her faith to you. She is, however,
absolved from her allegiance I think, by the scene I witnessed just
now in the garden."
There was a pause. "Come, Denzil," said Felix, composedly, "do you
suppose that I want to quarrel with you for a slip which gives me my
happiness? Let us never speak of this again. And let me assure you
that never, in all the future, shall you hear a word from either of
us of what has happened. Nobody but Vronsky, Rona, and I know that
any engagement existed between you; and we shall never speak of it to
anybody. I wish you happiness with all my heart."
* * * * * * *
The Governor had, as we know, previously received a hint from
Vronsky. But, in his satisfaction at the engagement, he willingly
accepted the Russian's assurance that he had been completely mistaken.
To Aunt Bee, at St. Petersburg, the news came as a shock.
Upon the previous day she had received a letter, forwarded from
Normansgrave, and written by no less a person than Rankin Leigh
himself. He wrote to say that he felt sure, judging by Miss Rawson's
action in removing his great-niece from the vicinity directly she
found that he was there, that his hopes of an old age soothed by her
care and affection were destined to remain unrealized. As it might,
however, be important to the family, in view of the deep interest
they seemed to take in the girl, to know more of her antecedents, he
offered to go into the matter thoroughly, if his expenses were
guaranteed, and a certain sum over and above paid to him.
At the time of receiving this letter Aunt Bee was fully persuaded
that Denzil would marry Rona; and it seemed to her most desirable
that all that could be ascertained about her should come to light
before things were irrevocable. She considered that Rankin Leigh had
most probably means of coming at the truth, or sources of
information, which they had not; and she wrote empowering him to make
inquiries, and mentioning the sum she was prepared to pay for his
services.
Hardly had she done this, when she received the startling news of
Denzil's faithlessness and the double engagement.
It was an occasion upon which the good lady became vividly sensible
of the mixture of motives which exists in the best of us.
She was really attached to Rona; yet it was impossible to deny that
there was a certain sensation of pleasure or gratified family pride
that the new mistress of Normansgrave would bring a suitable dower,
and that she boasted a noble pedigree, instead of being, however
attractive, a Girl from Nowhere.
It was arranged that the two couples, with Miss Forester as chaperon,
should all come to St. Petersburg together. There Felix and Rona
would be married, and Nadia and Miss Forester accompany Denzil and
his aunt to England, that the Russian girl might have a sight of her
new home before returning to Russia in the winter for her own wedding.
Before they arrived Miss Rawson was in possession of all that could
ever be known of Veronica's origin.
Rankin Leigh succeeded in ascertaining that her mother had been
secretly married to John Mauleverer. The young man had taken this
step, as is frequently done by the weak, hoping against hope that
some chance of avowing his marriage without incurring the displeasure
of his parents might arise. He was a delicate, timid young man. The
strain of the position, the anguish of knowing that the unconscious
parents were arranging another match for their son, was too much for
the unacknowledged wife, who fretted herself ill in her solitude, and
died when her baby was six months old.
The young father, thus released, married almost immediately the lady
chosen by his parents. He placed his daughter in the Convent School,
keeping her existence a secret to the last. He probably intended to
provide for the child, but took no steps to do so. He was still a
young man when his death occurred, very unexpectedly. He left two
sons by his second wife.
The discovery of the marriage certificate putting it beyond doubt
that Rona was legally his daughter, Rankin Leigh thought that the
Mauleverers, if approached, must be willing, if not to acknowledge
her, at least to make her some allowance.
Over this information Miss Rawson pondered much in the solitude which
she had to endure before the young people joined her.
The Girl from Nowhere was then, as she had always felt, of good
blood. The race instinct had not deceived Aunt Bee, and she felt a
pardonable pride in realizing this.
She wondered how far Denzil had, unconsciously, been influenced by
the obscurity of origin of the girl he had befriended. His aunt,
reflecting as we have seen upon the mixed nature of human motive,
thought it possible that the fact might have turned the scale for him
without his being conscious of its weight.
She laid side by side the photo of Nadia and the photo of Rona, and
marveled as she reflected that Denzil had chosen the alien type.
She could not tell whether Rona was happy. She was haunted by the
idea that she must have stood aside upon finding that Denzil had
changed his mind, and that it had not been possible for her to evade
an engagement with the younger brother.
Altogether, in her lonely sojourn in the Russian capital the maiden
aunt went through a good deal.
It was with more agitation than she remembered to have experienced in
her sixty years that she awaited the arrival of the party from
Savlinsky.
A very brief survey, however, sufficed to convince her of the
happiness of Felix and Rona. There was no mistaking the light in the
girl's eyes, nor the significance of her added bloom and sweetness.
With regard to Denzil she was not so sure. When she actually saw the
lady upon whom he had fixed his mature affections, she was invaded
with a wonder as to what they would make of a life together in
England in the provinces.
Nadia was lovely, and in her presence he was evidently so moved out
of himself that he could not reason, he could only feel. But his
temperament was wholly unromantic, because unimaginative. As time
went on, would he be able to sustain the standard of feeling which
the highly-wrought, emotional girl demanded?
Aunt Bee fell back upon the comforting thought that such girls, when
touched by marriage and motherhood, often settle down into quite
humdrum persons. Meanwhile, the troubling of his whole being which
the Squire was undergoing was no doubt an excellent thing for him.
Had he married Rona, he would--nay, he must--have remained King
Cophetua to the end of the chapter, horribly pleased with himself.
If anything would ennoble his character, the experience of being
Nadia's husband would be likely to do it. It was better so.
Before their marriage Miss Rawson took an opportunity privately to
tell Felix and Rona all that she had learned from Rankin Leigh.
They listened with interest, and Rona was evidently gratified to
ascertain that she had no need to be ashamed of her mother.
Aunt Bee suggested that it might be well to announce her existence,
or in some way approach her father's family, since there was no doubt
at all of her being the eldest daughter of John Mauleverer.
Rona turned to Felix, as usual; he to her. Their eyes met, and they
smiled.
"As Rona likes, of course," said Felix, "but I hardly see any reason
for our troubling them. The present Mrs. Mauleverer apparently knows
nothing at all of her late husband's former marriage. Would not the
disclosure wound her, cruelly and unnecessarily? We have nothing to
ask from them. Affection they are not likely to bestow, money we do
not want. Were Rona's father living, it might be her duty to go to
him. As it is, there does not seem to be a question of duty.
Moreover, if they are such a high and mighty set of people, how would
they like to know that she was married to a man of my record?"
Rona turned to him, her face alive with championship.
"I want nothing," said she, "from my father's people. My name is
neither Leigh nor Mauleverer: it is Vanston. But, for all that, one
day I shall go and see them, and let them know who I am, simply in
order that they may have the privilege of knowing--_my husband_."
THE END