walked rapidly away.
Vera, uttering an exclamation of surprise or alarm,--which it was Icould not tell--seized my arm with a convulsive energy that caused me nosmall pleasure at the feeling of dependence it implied, and drew a deepbreath.
"Do you know him?" I asked.
"No, no; not at all," she quickly replied. "He might have heard us; butnever mind."
I endeavoured to learn the cause of her alarm thinking that so muchagitation could not be created by such a trivial circumstance; butwhether my knowledge of feminine nature was imperfect, or whether sheknew who the listener was, and concealed his identity, I could notlearn, her answers being of the most evasive kind.
It was plain that the fact of our being discovered together had causedher the greatest consternation, and I was considerably puzzled to assignto this a reason.
I did not broach the subject again, however, but walked straight to thehotel, where we bade each other _buona notte_.
We met daily, and I, most prosaic of bachelors, found myself thinking ofher every moment.
Though in a dejected, perplexed mood, I felt utterly happy when at herside; for had she not given me words of hope for the future, and inthese was a certain amount of consolation, however slight. Ourclandestine meetings were so skilfully arranged as to keep theever-grumbling Hertzen in entire ignorance, and Vera admitted suchexpeditions were her happiest hours.
One evening, a fortnight afterwards, we had driven to Pegli, a quaintold fishing village four miles from Genoa. It was a gorgeous sunset,the sea a glittering expanse of blue and gold stretching out toward thedescending sky, with nothing to fleck its surface but the gleam of awhite sail or two; and as we walked together, close to the lappingwaves, I fancied she looked a trifle wan and anxious.
At first I took no heed of it, but presently her agitation became soapparent that I asked whether she were well.
"Yes, well enough in health," she sighed, "but very unhappy."
"Why, how is that?" I asked in concern.
"Ah! Frank," she said, with her eyes fixed sorrowfully upon the ground,"I must not tell you all, so you cannot understand but I am one of thoseborn to unhappiness."
"Tell me something of this sorrow, that I may sympathise with you," Isaid, looking into her eyes. "If it is in my power to help you I willdo so willingly."
"Ah! if you would?" she exclaimed wistfully, her face brightening at asuggestion which appeared to flash across her mind. "There is indeedone way by which you might render me a service, but it is impossible. Iam afraid the commission is too great for you to undertake."
"I am ready to serve you in any way, Vera. If a test of my devotion isrequired, I'm prepared for the ordeal," I replied seriously.
She halted, and gazing into my face with eyes brimming with tears, said:"Believe me, I am in sore need of a friend. I will tell you somethingof my trouble, but do not ask for further explanations now, as I cannotgive them. The man whom you know as my uncle holds me in his power. Heis harsh, cruel, and--and--"
"_He is your husband_!" I interrupted in a low voice, for somehow Ifelt convinced that such was the case.
"No! no!" she cried hoarsely; "no, I swear that is not so. He isneither husband, nor even friend. Though my uncle, he is unworthy thename of relation. I am unfortunately in his thrall, and dare notdisobey his will. To do so would mean--"
"What?--tell me."
"Impossible. The longer I live the more I learn to hate his presence.Ah, if you could but know!"
There was an intensity of bitterness in that utterance, a flash in herclear dark eyes that spoke of a fierce passion. Could it be hatred?
"Vera; why not trust me?" I implored, taking her hand, and seeking topenetrate the indomitable reserve in which her words were shrouded.
"Once and for all, Frank, it cannot be."
Her answer came short, sharp, decisive, firm, yet with ineffablesadness.
"Heaven knows! I would willingly share your burden, Vera."
She paused, as if in doubt.
The silence grew painful, and I watched the mobile features which soplainly indexed the passing emotions of her mind. A blush, like that ofshame, tinged her cheek and pallid brow as she lifted her face to mine,although her eyes were downcast.
"Frank," she said, slowly, "will you help me?"
"With heart and soul, dearest."
"Then you _can_ do so." And she drew a deep breath.
"How?"
She hesitated, wavering even then, as it seemed; and the colour left hercheeks as suddenly as it had appeared.
In a low voice, speaking rapidly and impetuously, she replied:--
"Briefly, you may learn this. My uncle is my guardian. He has, Ibelieve, appropriated a large sum of money which is mine by right. Ah!I know what you would say. But I dare not prosecute or expose him, forthe consequences would be almost beyond conception, and would affectmyself more even than him. I am powerless!"
"But I can help you?"
"I'm afraid you will not consent to what I ask."
"What is it? You know I cannot refuse a behest of yours."
"A further annoyance, in fact a great danger, threatens me now. My deadmother's jewels--on which I place great store, for they are the onlysouvenir remaining of she whom I dearly loved--are now coveted by him.In vain I have besought him to let me keep them, but he is inexorable.To place them with a friend in whom I have confidence is the only courseremaining; that friend lives--"
"Yes, where?"
"At St Petersburg."
"St Petersburg!" I exclaimed, in surprise. "Oh! but, of course, it isyour home?"
"It is; or rather was. Had I the opportunity I would convey them theremyself, braving the displeasure of my harsh relative and the punishmentthat would follow. Unhappily I am debarred. To trust the jewels to thepost would be too great a risk, and it is only to--to sucha--_confidant_ as you that I can look for assistance."
"And this is all?" I asked. "You merely want me to take them to StPetersburg?"
"That is all."
"The commission is a slight one, Vera; you know how willingly I wouldundertake, for your sake, a thousand such--"
"How can I ever thank you enough?" she interrupted, her face assuming abrighter expression. "I really thought it too much to ask of you."
"Nothing could be too much, dearest. When shall I start?"
"As soon as possible. By delay all may be lost. It is imperative youshould be in Russia three weeks from to-day."
"Three weeks from to-day," I echoed.
"Yes, within that time, or it will be useless--my friend will havedeparted."
"Then I am ready to set out to-morrow. Have you any message? What mustI do?"
"To-morrow morning I will give you the case. Go to the Hotel Michaeli,on the Galernoi Oulitza, at St Petersburg, and remain there until atall, fair gentleman presents my card and asks for them. He will givehis name as Paul Volkhovski."
"Very well," I said, "I shall leave to-morrow night."
Then we retraced our steps, and entering the carriage, drove back toGenoa in the fading twilight.
Next morning we met alone in the drawing-room, and she placed in myhands a leather jewel-case about nine inches square and three deep,securely sealed, saying,--
"I trust to you for their safety. Do not let this out of your sight foran instant, and on no account allow the seals to be broken, for it willbe easy enough to pass so small a box through the _douane_."
I bade her rest assured the diamonds would be safe in my hands, and thatI would carry out her instructions regarding the preservation of theseals.
"I trust you implicitly," she repeated. "And now--as to funds?"producing her purse.
"No," I said firmly, "I should not think of taking your money. Thisjourney will be a pleasure, and you must allow me to defray its cost."
"Thank you, a thousand times," she replied, her lips quivering withemotion. "Our movements are very uncertain, but I have your Londonaddress, and will write
and inform you of our wanderings from time totime."
"After I have accomplished this mission, I shall return to youimmediately, when I hope you will be convinced that my love is no merepassing fancy, but a--"
"Hark!" she interrupted, "my uncle's cough. Go!--Farewell!"
I bent and kissed her, then snatching up the box, hurriedly left theroom.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
POST-HASTE ACROSS EUROPE.
One circumstance puzzled me greatly.
My baggage had already been placed in the carriage which was to take meto the station, and in descending the stairs to depart I passed thesitting-room occupied by Vera. The door was ajar, and I was suddenlyprompted to
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