endeavouring to be firm, "it pains me, but I must put anend to this interview. I was foolish to seek you thus, but it was onlyto confront you for the last time that I obeyed. I have loved youfondly, 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 ismerciless of you not to hear my version of the matter, although I ownappearances are much against me. The vilest criminal is allowed to makea defence; surely you will not debar me from it!"
She looked beseechingly at me, her face blanched and betraying thestruggle going on within.
"But you cannot tell me here," I said, somewhat softened by herrepentance.
"No; my uncle will be out to-morrow evening, come to me then," shereplied, 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 youwish. I will call to-morrow."
"_Do_," she implored; "I am sure I shall be able to satisfy you that Iam not so very much to blame."
We then shook hands and parted, for the orchestra having finishedplaying, the curtain had risen, and the theatre was too quiet to allowfurther conversation.
I returned to my seat, but on glancing up five minutes afterwards, sawthat Vera was not in her box, and concluded that the burlesque had nolonger any attraction for her.
Nugent's inquiries after her health and well-being I answeredsatisfactorily, though I, myself, could not sit out the play, andreturned home long before it was over.
I need not dwell upon the fearful suspense and mental torture in whichthat night was spent. Suffice it to say it was a period that seemedinterminable, for my heart was racked by an intensity of emotion whichcan scarcely be conceived. The sight of Vera, in all her bewitchingloveliness of old when we passed those happy days at Genoa, hadawakened, with a thousand-fold energy, my love. Deceived as I imaginedmyself to have been, the one absorbing passion of my existence had stilllived, in spite of all attempts to smother and subdue it by reason'said. One word from Vera, one look from those eyes into my own, hadagain laid me a captive at her feet, although I despised--hated--myselffor 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 usboth, that would mean the dawn of better days and brighter hopes.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
THE TERRACE, RICHMOND.
With a beating heart and a firm determination to be strong, I wasushered on the following afternoon into the drawing-room of one of thatterrace of large houses that stand on the summit of Richmond Hill,overlooking what was at that time the grounds of Buccleuch House, butwhich have lately been thrown open as public gardens.
It was a pleasant room, the windows of which commanded a fine view ofthe picturesque valley, where, deep down, the river, like a silverystreak, winds in and out the mass of foliage. Undoubtedly it is theprettiest scene within many miles of London, and that day Father Thameswas looking his best in the glories of a setting sun, whose rays nowgilded the sail of a tiny craft dropping down with the tide, and anonlighted up some snorting tug or shrieking pleasure-launch.
Scarcely had I time to glance round when the door opened and Veraentered.
She looked even more lovely than I had ever before seen her, dressed ina tea-gown of cream lace over _vieux rose_ satin, with a loose front andtrain, showing the pale rose satin lining, her waist being encircled bya curious girdle. It suited her admirably, and as she walked across theroom with a smile of glad welcome upon her lips and her handoutstretched, I confess my heart was softened towards her.
There was an indefinable air--it might be of anxiety about her, however,as if she were afraid that what she had to say would not be convincingto me; and it was plainly to be seen that she, too, had spent a night ofsleeplessness.
"Well, Frank, we have met again--you did not forget your promise," shesaid, in those soft tones I loved to hear, speaking slowly, perhapstimidly.
We seated ourselves in silence. I dared not yet trust myself to speak.
"Last night I said I would give you the reason of my apparent_fourberie_."
She paused, and toyed with her rings. She was waiting for me to answer.
"Yes," I said; "I am listening."
She looked up hastily; my voice was not encouraging.
"It was imperative Frank, that you should be sent to Petersburg--and--itwas for your own sake--"
"For my sake!" I exclaimed.
"Yes, Frank," she replied; "and it was only for that and for your futurehappiness and our--" she paused, while a vivid blush mantled herhandsome features.
"Our what?" I demanded, almost rudely.
"I must not say, dearest; but this you might know--that no harm wasintended for you in any proceeding in which I had a hand."
"That is no answer, Vera," I said, somewhat sternly. "You say this wasfor `our' something, and for my future happiness! What does it allmean, and why this mystery? I'm tired of it. If you cannot explain,why ask me to call upon you?"
"Because, Frank--because I feel sure you would forgive me everything,could you know all."
"Is there a reason, then, that you will make no explanation?"
"Yes, a most important one. If I could, I would tell you--but Icannot," she said.
"Yet you were aware of my arrest, my imprisonment without trial, andtransportation?"
"True. I knew of your arrest an hour after it had taken place."
"And it was you who planned my escape?"
"It was. Had I not been successful, you would now be working in theKara silver mines, enduring that living death which is a worsepunishment than the gallows," she replied, shuddering.
"For your timely assistance in that matter I must thank you," I said."Yet it is only fair that I should know the nature of my unknownoffence, and the reason of my arrest I presume you are aware of it?"
"No, do not thank me, Frank. It was in my power to help you, and I didso. It was but my duty."
"But why was I imprisoned?" I asked.
"That I cannot tell you."
"Surely I have a right to demand an explanation, and if you do not tellme I shall place the matter before the English Consul, who will,perhaps, be able to fathom it," I observed.
"No, no!" she replied, starting up. "No, Frank, don't do that, for mysake. It would implicate me and I should be in deadly peril. Let thesubject rest, and request no further explanation, promise me that?" sheurged earnestly.
"I cannot. There is a mystery about the whole affair which I confess Idon't like. I came here to-day expecting to hear it explained, but Ifind you indisposed to tell me anything," I replied angrily.
"Not indisposed, Frank--unable."
"Unable! Why, you admit you are fully cognisant of the facts!"
"I do, but unfortunately circumstances will not permit me to disclosethe secret."
"There _is_ a secret, then?" I ejaculated.
"Yes, one that must be kept at all hazards, alas! Therefore promise notto cause inquiries to be made, or it will be myself who will be thesufferer. Do promise me this?" she implored.
"If what you say is true," I replied, "you may rely upon my silence,though I think, in the interests of our friendship, you should tell mewhat you know."
"I wish I could. I know I am not _hors de blame_, for I deceived youwhen I said I was under my uncle's thrall. It is true he holds powerover me, but not in the way I suggested."
"How, then?"
"Ah, it is part of the secret. Some day, perhaps, you may know--notnow. I had a set purpose in asking you to go to Russia to perform thatcommission you so kindly undertook, yet it was in desperation that Iasked you--the man who was to have been my husband."
"And I shall bitterly remember the experience until my dying day,
" Iremarked.
"Yes! it is only natural that you should feel disgusted at what youconceive is my treachery. It is but another result of the fatal step--Imean of the cursed circumstances in which I am placed. I cannot hopefor your forgiveness, for I dare not explain. On every side," sheexclaimed disconsolately, with a vehement gesture of the hands, "I amwatched and surrounded, hemmed in with difficulties, absolutelyprevented from--"
"From telling me the object for which you sent me to Russia, when youknew it was a dangerous errand, likely to cost me my life? How can youexpect that I should love you as I did with this terrible enigmaunsolved?"
She remained silent.
For a moment I thought she was on the point of telling
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