CHAPTER XXIII

THE ESCAPE OF AUNT BEE

I should have cleaved to her who did not dwell In splendor, was not hostess unto kings, But lived contented among simple things, And had a heart, and loved me long and well. --WILLIAM WATSON.

The victoria fled swiftly along the pretty country road for some moments without either occupant saying a word. Rona sat as if the falling of the long-expected blow had stunned her. Aunt Bee, watching her set lips and tragic eyes, felt vaguely alarmed.

"Rona," she said, in low tones, almost a whisper, "had you any sort of idea that he was in the neighborhood--before we set out for church?"

The girl hesitated. At last--"I thought I saw him," she said, reluctantly, "at the station the other day, when we went to see Denzil off. A race train came in from Virginia Water, and I turned, glancing idly along the carriage windows, and felt almost sure that I saw his face. I had the idea that he had suddenly risen from his seat, and was looking at me. But at that moment the train moved, and I--I could not be sure. But he must have been sure, and he must have spent all these days searching the neighborhood for me. It was a clever idea to go to church, wasn't it?"

Aunt Bee remained silent for a swift moment or two. Then she turned suddenly, stooping, her lips close to the girl's ear. "Rona--how long shall you take to pack?"

The girl started, a light came into her eyes and color into her cheeks. "For how long?" she rejoined, with bated breath.

"For a journey,--one hardly knows how long. One trunk, a hat-box, a hand-bag."

"Two hours, if there is time. Twenty minutes if there isn't."

"Good girl. I expect we can have our two hours. But I must study a time-table. I see nothing for it but flight, and before he can suspect us of anything of the sort. I cannot deal with him in Denzil's absence."

"No," said Rona, her eyes glowing. "You are simply splendid! Oh, what a relief! I have been so sick with fear. I am not a coward, really, but my nerves cannot bear the sight of him. If you could know the things he recalls! I feel like a thrashed slave when you show her the whip."

Miss Rawson caught her hand and held it tight. "Courage, darling! You know Denzil does not think he can really do much. Of course, it depends a great deal upon the exact terms of your father's will. But even if he is legally your guardian, I don't think he can actually force you to live with him. If he is not, Denzil says we can snap our fingers. But, for all that, I dare not tackle him alone. We must be off, and at once. And nobody must know, not even the servants, that we are going beyond London. I have about fifteen pounds in the house here, and I will write to my bankers, with a check, instructing them to cable out more money to me to Paris, or Brussels, or wherever it is we start from--I'll look out the route."

"Where are we going?"

"_To St. Petersburg_, I think--don't you?"

Rona gasped. She repeated the words mechanically. "To St. Petersburg! Oh, Aunt Bee!"

"It seems to me the safest course. The man looked to me as if he were prepared to be very disagreeable. If we simply go to Paris, he might follow us. But I should judge that the state of his exchequer would render Russia quite out of the question----"

"Oh, how wonderful you are! But we shall want a passport for Russia, shall we not?"

"I could get that anywhere where there is an English Embassy. Let me see, we had better take Gorham, I think."

Gorham was Miss Rawson's maid, a middle-aged, superior woman, attached to her mistress, and fond of Rona. "We will not tell anyone our destination until we are safely off," went on Miss Rawson; "Gorham must be told that we shall be away for a month, at least, but the servants here must be left under the impression that we return without fail on Tuesday evening. I will even order the dinner for that night before I go, and tell cook that I expect a gentleman to dine with us. Then if he does hear that we are away, and makes inquiries, his suspicions will be lulled."

Upon consulting the time-table, they found that all Was easy. By driving to Weybridge they could catch a 5.56 train, reaching Waterloo at 6.49, in plenty of time to dine comfortably and catch the 9 p.m. boat train, by which means they would arrive in Paris at five o'clock next morning.

Miss Rawson had a cousin--one Mrs. Townsend, known in the family as Cousin Sophy--who lived in Kensington and was in feeble health. Aunt Bee unblushingly told her household that she had news that this good lady was suddenly taken worse, and that she must go at once. As she did not like to leave Miss Rona at home alone, she should take her; and as they must put up at an hotel, she should also take Gorham. As they should probably stay only a night, or perhaps two, she wished nothing said in the village of their absence; and, as the Squire was known to dislike Sunday traveling, she wished Jones to drive the luggage cart out by the back way and go along the lane, and not by the high road, that the village might not be scandalized.

"I don't think," said the newly fledged conspirator, "that he will suspect us of bolting, after my asking him to dinner like that. Was it not a good thought of mine to say we were engaged to-day and Monday? Conspiracy comes terribly easy when once one tries it! Cheer up, darling, we shall get off with no trouble at all. And on Tuesday afternoon I will dispatch a telegram to him, saying that I am sorry to have been suddenly called away. Mercifully, I have a balance of several hundred pounds in the bank just now, which I have been saving up to buy furniture with when Denzil and you turn me out! We shall do admirably."

Rona flung her arms about her neck. "I think it is too much," she said, in a choked voice. "Let me go--let me disappear! Why should you lavish money, time, health, on me? Who am I? Nobody knows. And I have done nothing but harm. I have made them both unhappy. Give me ten pounds and let me go away and hide, and earn my own living--ah, let me!"

Her mouth was stopped with a kiss, and an injunction not to be a little fool. "I enjoy it," said Aunt Bee, with an air of evident sincerity. "I never got a chance to do a desperate thing like this before. Who would think of staid old Miss Rawson, the mainstay of the Girls' Friendly Society and the Clothing Club, telling tarradiddles to her servants, and rushing off across Europe, in defense of a helpless beauty with villains in pursuit! I feel as if I were in a book by Stanley Weyman!"

In fact, her capacity and energy carried all before them, and triumphed even over Gorham's consternation when, upon arriving in London, she found that, so far from having reached their goal, they were but at the starting-point of their journey.

The obtaining of their passport and waiting for their money delayed them in Paris for four-and-twenty hours. But they felt fairly safe, and made up their minds not to worry. They arrived at St. Petersburg absolutely without adventure, and found themselves in a spacious, well-appointed hotel, where English was spoken, and in a capital which did not seem to differ much from other foreign capitals, except in the totally unknown character of the language, and a curious Oriental feeling which seemed to hover in the air rather than to express itself in any form of which me could take note.

Miss Rawson was much inclined to plume herself upon her successful disappearance. They had written to Denzil to inform him of the step they had taken, and why. On reaching St. Petersburg, they telegraphed to him their arrival and address. If all had gone well with his journey, he should have been almost a week at Savlinsky by now, and might have important news for them.

A telegram arrived the following morning. "No news Felix. Please await letter--Denzil."

That was all. They could not tell, from its necessary brevity, whether he was displeased at their daring dash or no. But there was nothing for it but to stay on in their hotel for a week or two, until the arrival of the letter alluded to.

And in truth there was plenty to see, plenty to interest them. It disappointed Rona that the ice and snow which she had associated with the idea of Russia were absent--that the weather was fine, and, if anything, too hot to be comfortable. But this enabled them to go about and to enjoy the sights of the place.

And then their first misfortune suddenly befell them. Miss Rawson, in stepping out of a droshky, wrenched the knee which had been troubling her that summer, displacing the bone in its socket, and tearing and bruising the ligaments, so as to produce acute inflammation.

It was the kind of accident which happens one hardly knows how or why. One may get out of a cab every morning for five-and-twenty years, and the following day injure oneself seriously in so doing. The doctor called in--an English doctor was at once forthcoming--thought very gravely of it. It was a far worse matter than a simple fracture, he said. Absolute rest was the only thing possible. He used every effort to reduce the inflammation. But the pain was so great and so continuous that the patient could not obtain any sleep; and the day after the accident she was so ill that Rona was very anxious about her.

That same day came a letter from Denzil. He said he was very glad to hear that they had come out, though he could hardly have advised so extreme a course had he known it to be in contemplation. As they were there, he hoped they were fairly comfortable, and would not mind staying on until he had some idea as to what was best to be done. He said that the place where he was was far from civilization, and though the Russian, Vronsky, did all he could for his comfort, he found himself very unwell, as a result, he supposed, of his long journey, or the difference in climate, or way of living, or anxiety. There was no news of Felix. He related the circumstances of his disappearance, and of the pursuit of Cravatz. He said that Vronsky was far from hopeless, for the Governor suggested that Felix was perhaps keeping out of harm's way until he heard that the Nihilist was laid by the heels. He himself could not but think that had Felix intended to go into hiding, he would have informed Vronsky, and not left him to fret and distress himself. Vronsky's devotion to his brother was touching. He meant to leave him everything of which he died possessed. He was in a large way of business. He had confided to Denzil that he believed Nadia Stepanovna, the Governor's daughter, was interested in Felix----

("Dear me, what a good way out of our difficulty that would be!" sighed Aunt Bee.)

They had every hope of hearing of the arrest of Cravatz in a few days. The police had been put on his track by a wandering Kirgiz. ("What on earth is a Kirgiz?" said Aunt Bee.) When his arrest was a known fact, they might hope to ascertain where Felix was, unless he had been the victim of foul play. But an exhaustive search all along the route between Nicolashof and the mines had resulted in no discovery; and his attached servant, Max, was missing also. He concluded by remarking how fortunate it was that, owing to the proximity of the Governor's summer residence, they had a line of telegraph in so remote a spot. He recounted his own journey there, and added that he would write more, but that he felt increasingly unwell, and was afraid he should have to go and lie down.

It was a disquieting letter. They did not like to think of Denzil being ill, so far from them, or from a doctor, or from any friends. He could not speak a word of Russian; and though Vronsky had improved in his English under the tuition of Felix, he had had of late little use for that tongue, and it had grown rusty.

Aunt Bee almost forgot her pain in discussing the hard case in which Denzil must find himself. They talked of little else all day.

Next morning, when poor Miss Rawson awoke from the only nap she had been able to snatch during a night of agony, it was to hear that another telegram had arrived.

"Vanston very ill, wishes you to come.--Vronsky."

Miss Rawson buried her face in the pillow and sobbed. What was to be done? It was an impossibility for her to think of traveling. Yet the idea of Denzil alone and ill in that awful place was torment to her. Rona made up her mind.

If she could not offer to the man who loved her the devotion which he craved, she could at least offer service. She remembered his extreme kindness when she, the frightened, penniless little fugitive, had lain ill at the Cottage Hospital.

The least she could do would be to hasten to him, ill as he was, and lonely among aliens.

"I shall go, Aunt Bee," she said, quietly. "It is of no use your trying to stop me. I can manage quite well. I have Denzil's letter here, giving a full account of his journey. I have only got to get into the right train at Moscow, get out of it at Gretz, and hire a carriage to take me on. You have Gorham here to stay with you, and I shall be all right, I have plenty of common sense."

"Rona, it is impossible--impossible, and you know it! A girl of your age and appearance to go a drive of five hundred miles, alone, with these savages--what would Denzil say?"

"Denzil will not know until it is over," was the quiet answer. "Now, dear, it is of no use to fuss. What have the two Vanstons done for me? What have I ever done in return? Here is a thing I can do. Why, women do such things every day. I know a girl who went back to her husband from England to Japan, right along this trans-Siberian line, by herself. You must not hinder me, for I am going, dearest."

It was in vain to argue with her. Her mind was quite made up. She went out to Cook's Office, took her ticket, made her passport arrangements, and came back triumphant to pack her trunks. The doctor, when called into consultation, thought the plan a little daring, but by no means beyond the bounds of possibility. He had, as it chanced, a patient, a lady who lived farther along the line, and who was, by a fortunate coincidence, going that way, so that she could travel with Rona as far as Gretz. "As for the drive," he said, "it is a main road almost all the way; there are posting-stations and good horses. I think the drivers are an honest set of men; and I do not see why she should not be safe."

In short, the girl's determination carried the day. "Do not let us think of Mrs. Grundy," said she; "let us only think that Denzil is ill, and wants me. He has every right to have me, if I can get to him by any means in my power."